Author Archives: Melissa | Growing Green Nutrition

Retribution

The month of July continued to be unseasonably cool right up until the end.  I did not feel at all sorry for the people who complained it was too cold to go to the pool.  The biking was wonderful.  August, however, has other ideas.

My bike to work yesterday was nice and cool, but by the time I headed home, the mercury had climbed to 91, with a heat index of 99.  To make it extra special, there was a 15-20mph wind from the south.  To get home, I have to go east and south.  By the time I approached the big uphill climb (into the wind), my energy was already flagging.

Before I get to climb the hill, I must cross two sets of train tracks which are less than a block apart from each other.  All of the roads that go OVER the train tracks are heavily trafficked and not very safe for biking, so bikers have to deal with the tracks and the trains.

Anyway, I was approaching the tracks, and lo and behold, a train starts on the far tracks.  Picture an industrial area with train tracks, some low warehouse type buildings, and nothing else.  Felt like 99 degrees and not a drop of shade to be found.  Is there no mercy?  No, apparently there is not.  The train alternated between moving slowly and not moving at all.  Finally, after 15 minutes that felt like an eternity in the hot scorching sun, contemplating how much I did not want to climb the hill on the other side of the tracks, the train passed and I continued on my way.

I biked into the back yard only to be confronted with our cabbage, cauliflower, and broccoli seedlings who were enjoying the heat about as much as me.  Which is to say, not at all.  As soon as I got off my bike and leaned it against the building, I started emergency resuscitation measures of the seedlings.  I am happy to report that most of them survived the ordeal.

I am no too upset about the heat wave because I possess psychic capabilities, and I foresee that half of my August will be much cooler!

Signature sandwich

“Are you going to take a picture of that for your blog?”

“Um, I wasn’t going to, I was just going to eat it.”

“Oh, it just looks like it’s ready for a photo.”

Tomato, basil, mozarella sandwich with a side of corn
Tomato, basil, mozzarella sandwich with a side of corn

Maybe we should open this box outside

On my last trip to visit my parents, my dear mother confronted me with a couple of boxes of my stuff that were taking up space in my old bedroom.  Apparently, that situation was no longer acceptable.  Fortunately, I was able to wade through it rather quickly.  The boxes consisted largely of books, including textbooks that I really should have gotten rid of a few years ago, when they were actually worth something and someone could have used them.  But they were science textbooks, and I still thought medical school and studying for the MCAT might be in my future.  Not so much.

I could have taken the easy route and trashed the textbooks, but I wanted to investigate a greener alternative, so I carted the books back home with me.  I could not find a local outlet for them, but after a little digging, I found Better World Books.  They were willing to accept all but two of my books, and since I donated them, the shipping was free.  I packed them all up in a decently sturdy box with lots of packing tape — it was very heavy — and dropped it off at the post office on July 17.

Yesterday afternoon (July 29), my husband opened our front door and found a large box sitting on the porch.  Neither of us was expecting a package.  It was addressed ambiguously, with just the initial for the first name (which is M for both of us) and then the last name.  No return address.  We debated whether or not to open it out on the porch, just to be safe.  At this point, I had not seen the package, but apparently had some sort of premonition that it might involve those books I had tried to donate.  I asked if it was heavy, and he said yes.

He brought the package into the apartment, opened it up, and out came lots of white powder.  And then we caught anthrax and died.  The end.

Oh wait, I am still alive writing this.  Where was I?  We opened the box (not my original shipping box, by the way) and found my original packing list and a letter from the USPS saying my box had been damaged and some contents had been lost.  In fact, of the 8 books that I had been trying to donate, only 3 were in the box.  But that was not all.

Apparently, the USPS also damaged someone else’s package and had thrown some of his belongings in the box they returned to me.  No word on any of my other books.  We are now the proud owners of a very large map of the United States, some guy’s drawings of scantily clad women, and a book of short stories, the contents of which would qualify as soft core porn, in case you were wondering.  All because I was donating textbooks for reuse.  You can’t make this stuff up.

It wasn’t the candle

Mom: I started painting the den.

Me: Cool.  Did you use low VOC paint?

Mom: Um, sure . . . .  What it low VOC paint?  [Translates as, “probably not.”]

Sometimes, I take my environmental knowledge for granted.  VOC stands for volatile organic compound.  These chemicals occur in paint, among other things.  If you are painting, especially indoors, you will inhale VOCs.  Breathing VOCs is bad.  Immediate health risks include breathing problems, headache, and eye irritation.  Over time, some VOCs are also linked to cancer risk.

The levels of VOCs are highest immediately after painting, but your newly painted walls continue to off-gas VOCs long after the paint is dry.  The good news is that low- or no-VOC paint is readily available.  Look or ask for it for your next indoor painting project.

In addition to the random knowledge already in my head, I found information on VOCs here and here.  If you want more details, click one of those links.

Misadventures

Looking for an alternative to biking to my father-in-law’s for brunch yesterday, I opted for the bus.  Given our post brunch plans, we normally would have driven to this brunch together, but somebody had pre-brunch plans involving the car (ahem).  I absolutely refused to drive a second car and was not looking forward to the seven mile, midday sun pounding down on my poor vulnerable skin bike ride, so the bus seemed like a good solution (although it meant missing MY pre-brunch plans).  Anyhow.

I consulted my print copy of the bus schedules (updated March 30, 2009) and planned my route.  Seven block (half mile) walk to first bus, 5 minute ride, arrive at transfer station, 6 minute wait, 5 minute ride, <2 block walk.  Looks good, right?

Well, to get things started, I left the apartment without my bus pass.  I realized my mistake about 3.5 blocks into the walk, and decided I would [just barely] have enough time to go back for it.  I ran back to the apartment, in my not-so-good for running sandals, grabbed my bus pass, changed into better-for-running sandals, and left again.  If I missed this bus, my only option for arriving at brunch on time would be driving  — THE HORROR!  With that in mind, I did my best to run the half mile to the bus stop.  I arrived with two minutes to spare, which means I would not have made it if I walked.

We reached the transfer station, and I went to check which bay I needed to wait at for the second bus (the #56).  I noticed the posted bus schedules there, and decided to double check the departure time for the #56.  Unlike the other five bus schedules, the schedule for the #56 did not show ANY TIMES for Sunday.  What?  Then I noticed that, also unlike all of the other posted schedules, the #56 schedule said, “Updated June 8, 2009,” at the bottom.  Lovely little change they made to the March 30, 2009 guide that I consulted when planning my trip.

For a moment, I refused to believe the updated schedule, thinking maybe they just meant the Sunday schedule would be the same as Saturday and had left off the word “Sunday.”  I also knew that if I left right then, and did not wait around to see if the bus showed up, I would probably have time to walk to my father-in-law’s house, but if I waited and then had to walk, I would be late for brunch, so I set out on my little suburban hike.  I estimated (correctly) that it would be about 2 miles.

It was quite hot, and sunny, but I was wearing my sun hat and sun shirt, so the only exposed skin was the bottom half of my calves and the tops of my feet.  That is, until my tank top crept up, leaving a gap between the bottom of my shirt and the top of my pants.  I am not one to walk around in public baring my stomach (not that I have any issues with my stomach, it is quite nice, thanks), but at that point it was so hot, and the breeze on my stomach felt so good, that after one attempt to pull the shirt down, I decided that I just didn’t care.

I kept a brisk pace, and, although I felt slightly sorry for myself, I was mostly amused and glad that I was healthy and had strong legs to carry me and would be arriving without resorting to driving.  I arrived right on time, pulled down my shirt, and enjoyed a lovely brunch.