|
This
issue is dedicated to my new friends in Galveston at UTMB (University
of Texas Medical Branch) who I've thought about continually this week.
Reading email is probably not at the top of their lists, but if you're
out there, hang in there! These are very special people to me
because they were instrumental in helping me develop my green concept
with their outstanding green conference last May. Now, here they are,
recycling their lives, and those of their patients, and possessions to
an extent most of us will never understand.
UTMB participated in my recycle pageant in ways we'd never witnessed!
- The gal with wedding rings (recycled from divorce!)
- A purse made of weeds
- The guy with the tie (and perfect Windsor knot) made from a large breed dog food bag!
On
this, my first visit to Galveston Beach, I found a spot to enjoy the
Gulf for a short time. The breeze had stirred up the sand
however, making it difficult to read, so I opted for a power nap.
I woke up to the continual beat of a boy on a bike atop of the seawall
yelling at me, "Wake up, Grandma! Wake up, Grandma! Wake up,
Grandma!" I sat up and looked around. Obviously, I was the target
of his remarks. This tends to happen when you're the only one
with a 1-piece bathing suit and white hair. Another
reminder to have a sense of humor about ourselves. I hope that
Galveston will find joy and humor sometime again soon, as well.
|
|
Composting for Dummies
|
I
thought composting was what you did with your coffee grinds
to fertilize your flowers. Seems there's a little more art to it,
as I found out from my next-door neighbor. Our dog, Lily, is a
digger. She digs dirt. Literally and figuratively. If
it's hot out, she digs herself a pit and lays in the cool dirt.
If she wants a bunny outside of her fence, she digs to China. All
summer, she dug along our neighbor's privacy fence. I'll call them
the Murphy's. I use that term loosely, because the way they
yell at each other, privacy's one thing their fence does not
provide. WOW! But I digress. We found out
why Lily dug at the Murphy's fence one morning when she got
loose. It was about 8:00am and I was ready for work,
wearing a long, straight khaki skirt. (Keep this detail in
mind.) Lily started to romp with glee. She thinks it's great
fun. I think it's a cruel trick. Everyone else was either
gone or asleep in my house, so I would have to chase the dog
alone. Lily took a left turn into the Murphy's garden.
Fortunately, they were outside and we attempted to corral the dog,
which was a lot like forcing Mike Tyson into a corner.
Lily leapt out around me, right into the flowering Hasta. She
surfaced with a hunk of bread. Didn't people only throw
bread outside in winter? She darted around me. As I
dove for her collar, she dove into the daisies, and emerged with a hunk
of cantalope.
"Where is she getting all this food?" I panted.
Meryl Lu Murphy said proudly, "We compost!"
The
fence digging finally made sense, but I didn't think composting meant
throwing hunks of bread and fruit into the marigolds. But what
did I know? Nevermind, I still had a dog to catch. I hoped
the Murphy's had not had beef stew last night or we'd be here all
day. I got down in a crouch with a dog biscuit in my hand.
"Does she like lettuce?" (No, just dog biscuits.)
"Does she like eggs?" (No, just dog biscuits.)
"Does she like tuna?"
I
stopped in my tracks. "Excuse me?" Did she say,
"tuna?" This was the most ridiculous question asked of a dog that I'd
ever heard!
"Oh, yes! Tuna, does Lily like tuna?"
"Yes,
no, maybe, I don't know." Composted tuna? Wouldn't that attract
cats? Was it canned? Blackened? Rare? I've heard
it should always be prepared rare, in which case, Lily would like
it.
The dog darted near me and I executed a tackle of which
any NFL player would have been envious. The fiasco was
finished. I dragged the dog back to the house and Meryl Lu
hollered after me, "YOUR SKIRT IS RIPPED IN BACK!"
I
kenneled the dog and inspected the skirt. The entire back seam,
from waist to hem, had ripped like a zipper. I wondered
if skirts can be composted? It appears that there aren't
near as many rules as I'd thought. Perhaps I'll toss it in the
Murphy's yard. They'll never notice.
|
| Recycling Bin |
|
"Laughter is like the human body wagging its tail."
-Anne Wilson Schaef
|
| Book Bin |
|
Suggested Reading: Letters from a Nut by Ted L. Nancy
This
is Jerry Seinfeld recycled under the pen name of Ted L. Nancy. It
is ridiculously delightful! Excerpt from the back cover: "Dear
Star Magazine, I have a corn on my foot that resembles Shelley
Fabares....Can be mistaken for Ellen DeGeneres if looked at fast. How
can I get it submitted to your magazine..." Totally Jerry,
unsalted!
|
|
|
|
| About Bobbe White |
 |
|
Yes, that's me- inside a Recycling Bin. Perhaps I've finally lost it, but I prefer to look at it another way... by thinking green. As
so much emphasis is being placed on recycling, reducing, and
repurposing to save our environment, I propose we incorporate those
same ideas into our daily lives to save our sanity!
If
you've found yourself caught in the perpetual, work/life tug-of war
that has become your life; a job, home, spouse, kids, dog, aging
parents, aging self, aging food in the fridge... I invite you to join
me in recycling that stress into humor, reducing the negativity and
repurposing your life. In this and future issues of Bin There, Recycling That, I plan to share tips and tools to ease up, lighten up and green up your life.
As Kermit said, "It's Not Easy Being Green," but I believe it's well worth the effort.
|
|
Tips for Becoming A Green Being To
be greener means to find logical, healthy ways to refresh your mind,
reframe your humor, and refocus your stress.
Speaking of white hair... (Mine is not this week!)
After
I finished spray painting a marketing project for the bank, I realized
the yellow paint mist had landed in my hair. So much for
standing downwind. The paint store sold me something that smelled like
an orange grove for my hands. "Sure you can TRY it in your hair,
but, there're no guarantees." Then I stopped at Sally
Beauty Supply for a remedy. Yes, I know, I should call my
hair guy. He was off that day. I purchased the powder and
applicator and applied it before reading the fine print.
"NOT RECOMMENDED FOR GREY OR WHITE HAIR." Well, isn't that just
special? I quickly applied clarifying shampoo and donned a
shower cappy thing to hold in the heat source, which I got from a
heating pad. I strapped the pad to the top of my head. The really
sad part here, is not whether the yellow came out. (Did I mention it
was farm implement yellow? Can you say, "Tractor
Head?") The most disturbing part of this is that my husband did
not even notice I had a heating pad strapped to my
head. Wouldn't that seem a little odd to you? Not a
word. Not one comment. Finally, more than an hour later, he said,
"Why in the hell do you have a heating pad tied to your head?" He left
the room before waiting for an answer. Then, my sister-in-law, Laurie,
called to say she'd read somewhere that ketchup was a natural
remedy for "swimmer's hair." (i.e. hair that turns green.) And
since I'm all about green, it was worth a try. I washed out the
shampoo and squirted on the Hunts Ketchup, hoping that the
red would neutralize the yellow, like it promised to do with green
hair. I'll tell you, I was quite a dish! I suppose
this hair color will fade with time and frequent shampooing. I've
heard Dawn dish soap works too. Tried it. Or
Goo-gone. Ditto. I'm still yellow.
If
you've any remedies to help me get to the root of the problem (sorry,
bad pun) we'll publish the results in our next
issue. And to think I almost painted with blue spray paint.
Eeek!
Bobbe White
Try Laughter! Inc.
|
|
|
