Green beginnings

I can thank my parents for giving me a green beginning.  They wrapped my cute little baby bottom in cloth diapers back in the day when that meant pins and pack-a-leaks (perhaps more commonly known as “plastic pants”).  My mom made most of my “baby food.”  I have photo documentation of an early introduction to gardening and remember hot August days snapping green beans in the kitchen to prepare for canning (in the pressure canner, which I always thought would explode).

We dried a lot of our laundry on an outside line in the summer and a line in the basement in the winter.  Not only does this decrease energy use, it makes your clothes last a lot longer, another green benefit.

In our house it was standard to turn out lights and set the thermostat conservatively.  We were early adopters for fluorescent light bulbs and programmable thermostats.

Perhaps because of our state’s bottle deposit, we always saved bottles and cans and returned them to the store for recycling.  Once our town started a recycling program, we were there.  I often assume that others my age were raised similarly and am surprised when that is not the case.  I spent a year transferring one roommate’s recyclable trash from the trash can to the recycling bin, and I was particularly perplexed because she was from California.  I mean, California, isn’t the state just full of green people?  How do you grow up in California and not know about recycling?

For one reason or another, I’ve been interested in “green” before the word was anything other than a color.  I don’t know if this still happens in elementary schools, but do you remember the little book sales they used to do in school?  I would go home with a little colorful handout with paperback book titles.  Sometimes they also sold posters — posters with kittens on them.  But I digress.  We were big fans of the library, so getting to buy a book was a rare treat, and I still remember that one of my selections in third grade was, “50 Simple Things You Can do to Save the Earth.”  I was struggling to remember the exact title of the book, but I’m pretty sure that’s it, and it’s still around — now with a website!  At the bottom of this page you can download a PDF of the original book for free.

her green life is one month old

Lotus
In bloom

After last week’s suffocating heat, this week has been a pleasure.  We enjoyed a vegetarian potluck and outdoor music at the botanical garden last night, and I snapped some shots of the blooming lotuses.  (I really wanted to call them “loti.”)  We made a roasted beet*, cucumber**, and sweet onion** salad for the event.  My favorite dish of the evening was the potato salad sandwiches.  It sounds odd, but it tasted delicious, and I was craving a sandwich.  Many of the dishes contained local ingredients, either from personal gardens, CSAs, or farmer’s markets — way to go!

* Food we grew.

** Food grown locally that we purchased from the farmer’s market or farmer.

Resident sweater

A few weeks ago, when it was hot, but not yet unbearably hot, I was getting ready to leave work for the day.  I started to take off the sweater that lives in my office, and paused, thinking that I didn’t have anything warm to put on for going outside.  And then my brain started functioning again, and I remembered, “Oh, it’s 80 degrees outside, you don’t need a sweater or jacket outside, only inside.”

Many work places and indoor public spaces could reduce their electricity use, thereby saving themselves a lot of dollars on cooling costs AND reducing the their carbon footprint, by setting the thermostat a little higher in the summer.  Until that happens, here is the tale of the resident sweater.

A navy blue zip-up sweater permanently resides in my office to help me survive frigid office temperatures that occur in the middle of the summer.  When it is 100 million degrees outside, but the office feels like the inside of a meat locker.  By permanently resides in my office, I mean this.  In the summer of 2005 I started grad school and worked as a research assistant in the same building.  At some point during that summer, I decided I needed a permanent source of warmth that I could wear over almost anything, something I wouldn’t mind leaving at the office, and this sweater that I never really wore for anything else seemed like the perfect solution.  And because I always wore it over other clothes, and not directly against my skin, and somehow got lucky and never spilled any food on it, I never took it home to wash it.  Ever.

See?  Not dirty at all.
See? Not dirty at all.

Fast forward two years to the summer of 2007.  Degree in hand, I landed a full time job that just happened to be in the same building.  So instead of packing up my cubicle and taking everything home, I just moved everything down the hall into my new pseudo-office (i.e., a cubicle in disguise).  Including the sweater.  Because why take it home and wash it, if it clearly wasn’t dirty?

Then, during the summer of 2008, I moved with my employer to a new building.  I packed most of my office contents in boxes for the moving service (which had to be done while we still had a week left in the old building), but there were some things I wanted to move myself.  I put the sweater in this category so it would be available right up to the last minute in that frigid place.

So it happened that, at the end of the last day in the old building, my trusty sweater saw daylight for the first time in three years.  And then I took it back to my house, and, are you ready for this?  I washed it.  For the first time in 3 years.

It survived that washing and just finished its 11th month in it’s new residence.  That means it has 2 years and 1 month to go until the next washing.

Electronic “stuff”

A few thoughts on this article about recycling electronics:

1. Recycling or no, the amount of waste we produce is appalling.  Reduce, with some reuse, should be our focus.

2. As the article mentions, not everything can be recycled: ” . . . and the plastics, which have no reuse market, are often shipped overseas to developing countries for disposal.”  Lovely, let’s just send all of our crap to developing countries.  Can you say injustice?

3. The fact that we produce this much electronic waste is no accident: ” . . . manufacturers build obsolescence into many of their designs, causing outdated electronics to become the bane of the waste system.”  And the bane of the environment.

4. If you haven’t already seen “The Story of Stuff,” it is very relevant and well worth your time.

Nonviolence

In this post, I described an all-too-frequent close encounter with a car.  What I really want in situations like that is the chance to talk — words not weapons.  I am continually denied this outlet because the cars, they certainly cannot be bothered to stop.  Rather than missiles, my ideal bike accessory would deliver a paralyzing pulse that would force the offending vehicle to pull over and stop at the next safe place allowing me to catch up to them.  And then?  Then we would have a little chat about safety and respect and bicycle rights.

I did have this opportunity on one occasion (minus the shooting a paralyzing pulse part — that did not happen).  I was biking home from work after one of my late evenings (~8pm) at a time of year when it was pretty much dark by that time.  Here’s how it went down.

I stop at a stoplight, waiting to turn left onto a busy, multi-lane street.  I am the first person waiting to turn in the left turn lane; there is a “straight” lane to my right.  As I wait, several cars join the line behind me in the left turn lane and a limo pulls up next to me in the straight lane.  The light turns green, and I begin my turn, only to see the limo next to me, the limo in the STRAIGHT lane, also turning left.  From the straight lane, the driver turns in front of me, completely cutting me off.  After making the turn, we immediately stop next to each other due to another red light.  I am, oh, what’s a good adjective?  Incensed?  Hopping mad?  Breathing fire?  I am [insert adjective of choice] at this point, trying to communicate through the limo windows.  The driver rolls down the passenger side window and says, “Are you trying to say something to me?”  I fail to come up with just the right words in the five seconds I have before the light changes and he speeds off.

I continue on my ride, annoyed that I did not get the chance to respond to his snide little question.  I’m close to home, having turned onto a smaller side street, when what do I see, but the very limo parked outside a neighborhood pizza place.  What are the odds?  I pull up to it, and seeing that no one is inside, pull out a paper and pen so I can write down the license plate number and other car information and report it to the limo company.  I collect the information I need and prepare to leave, when a man exits the pizza place and approaches the car.  I confirm that he is the jerk who almost killed me driver and a conversation ensues.

He defends his illegal left turn from the straight lane, saying that cars were SO backed up behind me in the left turn lane, backed up ALL the way to the interstate exit ramp because of this BICYCLE, and so the logical thing to do was zip up in the straight lane and make the turn from there.  Which is complete crap because, um, I had looked behind me while turning, and there were maybe five cars behind me, with over 100 feet of empty street between the last car in the left turn lane and the interstate exit ramp.  So clearly he is full of it, but since I am positioned between him and his limo, and thus have his undivided attention, I use the opportunity to inform him that bicycles have the right to operate as motor vehicles, which includes using the turn lanes, and that his behavior, in addition to being illegal, could have killed me and shows a clear lack of respect for bicyclists.

Was this conversation effective?  I don’t know, but at least it was a start.  At least I did not stay silent.

And now I will perform some deep breathing exercises because reliving it here is causing a distinct spike in blood pressure.