Do you know why I love baskets so much? I wish I could tell you it was because they’re made from natural materials and reuse found items or come from a renewable resource.
No, I like baskets because they’re a pretty way to store junk you don’t exactly know what to do with.
As I’ve told you before, my home is more chaos than order. And as a working mom, there are many piles of things I had meant to do something with but just never got around to it. The bigger baskets are wonderful to keep in each room so you can throw things in them for years at a time and then forget you even owned these items. So my goal this past month was to purge the junk and find as many ways to repurpose it as possible so as not to have it all end up in a landfill.
There is a basket on my dining room floor that originally was meant to hold decorative cloth napkins so that you could see the pretty colors even when the table wasn’t set. Last week I put the basket up on the table to see what was in it now. Here’s what I found:
3 DVD’s (two of which had no cases)
14 pens
6 pencils
1 Tiger Beat magazine from 2007
1 yo-yo
1 unwrapped Tootsie Roll (at least I hope that’s what it was)
1 deck of cards minus the king of spades.
Oh, and at the bottom, the unseen, dust covered, cloth napkins
Unload any of the dozens of baskets in my house and you’ll find a multitude of carnival prizes, birthday goodie bag treats, missing puzzle pieces, and unfinished crafts. Most of it, just junk.
My husband, bless his heart, suggested having a garage sale. I can’t think of a darker place in hell to be than sitting in my garage taking the time to dust off and mark a bud vase for 25 cents that no one will buy because they have 18 of them sitting in their own baskets around their own house. Nope, for me garage sales are a lot of work for very little pay off. But hey, if it works for you? Have at it!
Here’s how I tackled the Gang Green junk monster. First step is to send the kids with my hubby to the pool for the day so they don’t know I’m ridding them of the burden of Happy Meal toys they never played with in the first place.
Next I grabbed all the grocery bags from my own personal plastic vortex in my laundry room which is one big shopping bag stuffed full of hundreds of small bags. The Kroger bags were for paper recycling. That included the 51 card deck I found and the 3 Christmas cards left in the box, and puzzles with missing pieces, et cetera.
The Wal-Mart bags were for the Salvation Army donations. Home dec items I never put up. Picture frames I didn’t fill. One ceramic goose (don’t ask).
The Target bags were for all the small toys that were never that loved. This would make a sad Disney/Pixar movie but honestly, it’s them or me. Broken went in the trash. Then, I filled up my sink with soap and hot water and soaked all the usable toys so I wouldn’t stay awake at night wondering if germs from the last bout of bronchitis ended up on a Slinky somewhere.
Then it was time for distribution. The seven Kroger bags went into my own recycling bin. Then I headed for the Salvation Army drop-off with 5 Wal-Mart bags. Don’t forget the receipt for tax time! Then I stopped at my dentist office and donated a bag of toys for the “Treasure Chest”. Next, I headed to the doctor’s office with more treasures for the waiting room. Then I took the rest to the elementary school where teachers give them as rewards.
When I returned home, there was a big “Yay Me!” welling up inside of me and since everyone was still at the pool I high-fived the dog. He wasn’t nearly as excited as I was. But with the junk purged I had a new lease on life so I rearranged the living room furniture just for fun. When I moved the couch, I looked down to find the king of spades looking up at me. So I threw him in the nearest basket. Don’t worry, I’ll get to him soon.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Saturday, September 19, 2009
The Guinea Pig Report: Classic Pickle
As a wannabe publishee, my dream, like many others, is to write the next classic. The book that defines our era, that stands the test of time and (of equal importance), sells millions of copies worldwide! And why not? So many great authors before us have done so. Just like my 9 year-old son who plays Rock Band and imagines himself the next Steven Tyler, I fall prey to thinking I'm the next Jane Austen or Augusten Burroughs.
I try to balance my writing with my reading. With each book I read, I attempt to analyze each little nugget of goodness, dissecting the sentence structure, and contemplating the timelines the author chose, even examining how she moves from scene to scene. It is the author's choices in writing a book that intrigue me. I want to know what was edited out as much as I want to read what was kept in.
In my book club, we take turns hosting and the host chooses the book. Last month, we all agreed, the next book should be a classic. I attempted to send out telepathic signals to the chooser by repeating the mantra "Please not Wuthering Heights. Please not Wuthering Heights. Please not Wuthering Heights...” I think I had a short in my signal transmission however, because all she must have heard was the "Please" and the "Wuthering Heights" portions.
"How about Wuthering Heights?"
“Oh, God!” I accidently blurted out. “I mean… Oh, God! I’ve always wanted to read Wuthering Heights!”
That statement was true up until about 5 years ago when I actually attempted to read Wuthering Heights. I got about halfway through and packed it in. Now, I know there are many of you out there thinking “What? Wuthering Heights is a classic! One of the greatest romances of all times!”
To that I can only say this. Write your own damn blog about it then.
Let me start by saying that as far as structure, timing, editing, I can attest to the fact that this is a sound story with a beginning, middle, and end. My problem with Emily Bronte’s famed, no… REVERED novel is that I hate everyone in it.
But I was younger 5 years ago, and maybe I could approach it with more optimism this time. I opened the book with an open mind knowing that my friends were off enjoying their experience with Bronte. Surely, I could find some redeeming qualities about these two people.
Nope. I made it to chapter 21. I couldn’t take it anymore.
On the back cover of my copy, the last sentence of the description reads: “Heathcliff and Catherine remain in the mind long after the last page has been turned.” Yep. That’s true. Heathcliff and Catherine remain in the mind the way a popcorn hull remains wedged between your teeth, or the way the smell of skunk lingers on miles down the road after you pass it’s bloody, mangled carcass.
I’ll give Emily credit. She wrote a novel in her 20’s. I’m in my 40’s and just now getting to page 78 on mine. She grew up the fifth child in a poor family in the early 1800’s and was self-educated. She only lived to be 30 years old. This is a woman who made the most of her short time here on earth. But let’s approach this without the sympathetic props, shall we?
I ask you, are there two more unsavory, nasty, self-absorbed characters in all of literary history? How is one supposed to root for their hero when your hero is a pair of bleedin’ asses?? Here’s the ending I propose instead that would be a little more fitting for these characters:
Heathcliff is buried up to his neck by Joseph who pours honey all over him and lets him get eaten to death by ants. All the while, Catherine’s ghost searches the moors for the rest of his rotting body.
And what about “the moors”?
Exactly. What about ‘em? Oy! Nothing like two people who tick me off to the point that I don’t care if they end up at the bottom of the English Channel, living in what the dictionary describes as “a tract of open, peaty, wasteland”.
This book left me with a sort of “good riddance” attitude. I can only imagine that what the author chose not to put in might have been moments of niceties between Heathcliff and Catherine. Moments I would have considered a nice relief from all the foul behavior we were bombarded with.
Have at it Emily Bronte fans. I think I’ll pick up a nice Austen next time.
I try to balance my writing with my reading. With each book I read, I attempt to analyze each little nugget of goodness, dissecting the sentence structure, and contemplating the timelines the author chose, even examining how she moves from scene to scene. It is the author's choices in writing a book that intrigue me. I want to know what was edited out as much as I want to read what was kept in.
In my book club, we take turns hosting and the host chooses the book. Last month, we all agreed, the next book should be a classic. I attempted to send out telepathic signals to the chooser by repeating the mantra "Please not Wuthering Heights. Please not Wuthering Heights. Please not Wuthering Heights...” I think I had a short in my signal transmission however, because all she must have heard was the "Please" and the "Wuthering Heights" portions.
"How about Wuthering Heights?"
“Oh, God!” I accidently blurted out. “I mean… Oh, God! I’ve always wanted to read Wuthering Heights!”
That statement was true up until about 5 years ago when I actually attempted to read Wuthering Heights. I got about halfway through and packed it in. Now, I know there are many of you out there thinking “What? Wuthering Heights is a classic! One of the greatest romances of all times!”
To that I can only say this. Write your own damn blog about it then.
Let me start by saying that as far as structure, timing, editing, I can attest to the fact that this is a sound story with a beginning, middle, and end. My problem with Emily Bronte’s famed, no… REVERED novel is that I hate everyone in it.
But I was younger 5 years ago, and maybe I could approach it with more optimism this time. I opened the book with an open mind knowing that my friends were off enjoying their experience with Bronte. Surely, I could find some redeeming qualities about these two people.
Nope. I made it to chapter 21. I couldn’t take it anymore.
On the back cover of my copy, the last sentence of the description reads: “Heathcliff and Catherine remain in the mind long after the last page has been turned.” Yep. That’s true. Heathcliff and Catherine remain in the mind the way a popcorn hull remains wedged between your teeth, or the way the smell of skunk lingers on miles down the road after you pass it’s bloody, mangled carcass.
I’ll give Emily credit. She wrote a novel in her 20’s. I’m in my 40’s and just now getting to page 78 on mine. She grew up the fifth child in a poor family in the early 1800’s and was self-educated. She only lived to be 30 years old. This is a woman who made the most of her short time here on earth. But let’s approach this without the sympathetic props, shall we?
I ask you, are there two more unsavory, nasty, self-absorbed characters in all of literary history? How is one supposed to root for their hero when your hero is a pair of bleedin’ asses?? Here’s the ending I propose instead that would be a little more fitting for these characters:
Heathcliff is buried up to his neck by Joseph who pours honey all over him and lets him get eaten to death by ants. All the while, Catherine’s ghost searches the moors for the rest of his rotting body.
And what about “the moors”?
Exactly. What about ‘em? Oy! Nothing like two people who tick me off to the point that I don’t care if they end up at the bottom of the English Channel, living in what the dictionary describes as “a tract of open, peaty, wasteland”.
This book left me with a sort of “good riddance” attitude. I can only imagine that what the author chose not to put in might have been moments of niceties between Heathcliff and Catherine. Moments I would have considered a nice relief from all the foul behavior we were bombarded with.
Have at it Emily Bronte fans. I think I’ll pick up a nice Austen next time.
Monday, May 4, 2009
The Guinea Pig Report: Jill the GPS
I'm going to lay my cards on the table. Here it is. We don't like each other. There. I've said it.
I'm not talking about my husband and me. I'm talking about the GPS. The Garmen Nuvi comes with a wide variety of voices you can choose to give you directions as you drive. Since this device belongs to my husband Chris, he got to pick. Each voice has a name assigned to it and he chose "Jill". There are several others with a myriad of accents, male and female. I voted for the Australian guy named Biff, but Chris held strong and so Jill it is.
The thing about Jill is, she loves Chris. She's there to help him at every turn. When he comes to a crossroads, Jill sees him through it. (Please tell me these puns aren't wasted on you)
But let me tell you. She's a control freak. When I'm driving, I like to decide the route. Oh sure, we start off okay. She tells me which way to go coming out of the driveway and I think "How cute. She thinks I don't know."
By the time I'm leaving the subdivision she starts getting a little pushy. "In point 2 miles, turn right."
And occasionally I like to go off the beaten path. And that's when the gloves come off. She says turn right. I decide that the steering wheel is in my hands so I turn left. And then she says it:
"Recalculating"
Remember that snotty girl in high school that you despised? The one who knew she was soooo better than you because she had the cool jeans and yours were Walmart brand? Apparantly she's now doing voice overs for Garmen. She doesn't just say the word. She says it with a six pack of attitude. Yep, she's all nicey nice as long as you do things her way.
Now if Biff and I were driving? I'd be enjoying the open road with a friendly pal and the confidence that I'll get where I need to go.
Cool factors about the Garmen Nuvi is that you can load music and pictures into it. You can also choose your vehicle icon which includes a motorcycle, fighter jet, or alien spaceship. And it's super easy to navigate (last pun, I promise).
I really love that you can download new maps and even use it in another country. That would have come in handy on our honeymoon in Italy. Ever try to ask for directions in another language when all you know is "how much does this cost" and "do you accept visa?"
Would I buy another one? Heck yeah! But if I see Jill at the class reunion, I'm not telling her that.
I'm not talking about my husband and me. I'm talking about the GPS. The Garmen Nuvi comes with a wide variety of voices you can choose to give you directions as you drive. Since this device belongs to my husband Chris, he got to pick. Each voice has a name assigned to it and he chose "Jill". There are several others with a myriad of accents, male and female. I voted for the Australian guy named Biff, but Chris held strong and so Jill it is.
The thing about Jill is, she loves Chris. She's there to help him at every turn. When he comes to a crossroads, Jill sees him through it. (Please tell me these puns aren't wasted on you)
But let me tell you. She's a control freak. When I'm driving, I like to decide the route. Oh sure, we start off okay. She tells me which way to go coming out of the driveway and I think "How cute. She thinks I don't know."
By the time I'm leaving the subdivision she starts getting a little pushy. "In point 2 miles, turn right."
And occasionally I like to go off the beaten path. And that's when the gloves come off. She says turn right. I decide that the steering wheel is in my hands so I turn left. And then she says it:
"Recalculating"
Remember that snotty girl in high school that you despised? The one who knew she was soooo better than you because she had the cool jeans and yours were Walmart brand? Apparantly she's now doing voice overs for Garmen. She doesn't just say the word. She says it with a six pack of attitude. Yep, she's all nicey nice as long as you do things her way.
Now if Biff and I were driving? I'd be enjoying the open road with a friendly pal and the confidence that I'll get where I need to go.
Cool factors about the Garmen Nuvi is that you can load music and pictures into it. You can also choose your vehicle icon which includes a motorcycle, fighter jet, or alien spaceship. And it's super easy to navigate (last pun, I promise).
I really love that you can download new maps and even use it in another country. That would have come in handy on our honeymoon in Italy. Ever try to ask for directions in another language when all you know is "how much does this cost" and "do you accept visa?"
Would I buy another one? Heck yeah! But if I see Jill at the class reunion, I'm not telling her that.
Friday, May 1, 2009
New Guinea Pig Reports
I've created a new page just for The Guinea Pig Reports. Check out the latest entry at http://guineapigreport.blogspot.com/
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
The Guinea Pig Report: iPhone, uPhone, weallPhone 4iPhones
The third anniversary is the leather anniversary. I got him a leather jacket, wallet, and belt. Honestly, what else would there be to give? Unless we were into some unmentionable activities… which we’re not just for the record.
My hubby splurged on 2 iPhones (with leather cases). One for him, of course. Now, not being an electronic guru, I just didn’t know if I even cared about owning one of these things. I had always been fascinated by people who owned one and could stretch an image of their dog with just their fingertips. But I figured the fascination ended there.
Not so. Once I downloaded my first “app”. We iPhone people call them “apps” instead of “applications”. It’s our little jargon. What’s that? Your cell phone doesn’t have apps? Pity.
And it’s just that that gets you. You start with a free taste. I could stay up all night searching for new app freebees. For Christmas, I told everyone to give me iTunes gift cards so I could get another fix. I was hooked. More than hooked. I was on a gadget high so big I thought I’d never come down. I’d exhausted all the cool free ones. Shazam being my favorite. You can hold up your iPhone in a noisy Chili’s restaurant and it can still tell you what song is playing over the speakers, even if you can’t make it out yourself. Friggin’ amazing!!!
I’ve got GPS, restaurant critics, a carpenter’s level, a guitar, cute kittens with stupid misspelled captions, even an app that locates my husband right at my fingertips! Heck, I think there’s even one that controls the weather if I can just find where I put it. Yes, folks this was a love affair that would last a lifetime.
Until…
“Oh [expletive]!” says my husband from the other room. He dropped my iPhone moving it to the charger one day and shattered the glass front.
“No problem” I’m thinking. No doubt this is a 2-dollar part and is the last thing to go on and the first thing to come off in a repair. What could this possibly cost?
We take my shattered iPhone to the Apple Store with as much care as if we were bringing a wounded puppy to the vet.
“I’m sorry” says Eric, the 17 year old kid with the grommet in his earlobe. “You’ll have to make an appointment with one of our geniuses” as he checks out another teen customer who’s taking her own picture with a MAC.
Now folks, when entering a store in the mall, one doesn’t expect to hear the words ‘you’ll have to make an appointment’ but hey, they have geniuses! Fantastic! “Which ones are the geniuses?” I ask. I kept looking for someone with a pipe and a sweater vest and Einstein-esque hair but they all pretty much looked like Eric.
We make an appointment for the next day. They just couldn’t squeeze us in today. We come back and check in at our appointment time and still wait another 30 minutes to be seen by a ‘genius’.
He took one look at my shattered little friend and told us it would cost 350 dollars. 350 DOLLARS!!! I chuckled back with an old sit-com line. “I’m sorry. For a minute there I thought you said it would cost 350 dollars.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Yessiree! No matter what logic I laid at his feet about this being a cheap part and easy to repair, he wouldn’t budge. Not even the fact that we only paid $300 for the device itself moved him. “Apple policy” he cites.
I thought “Fine. I can live with the shattered glass front. Now it has character!” The fact was it did still operate perfectly well. So what if I had to extract tiny shards of glass out of my ear after each phone call?
After a week, we found a plan B. It was an unauthorized repair site where they could fix it for a mere 100 dollars. However the warranty would be officially voided. But in my opinion, if something else happens to this baby, I’m still not going to spend the $350 to get it fixed. The risk is only if a factory defect shows up suddenly. But so far, the gamble has paid off.
After this experience, I still love my iPhone but I handle it as if it were a test tube of plutonium. Oh, and for the record? I don’t think they’re really geniuses. I don’t even think they could make it onto Jeopardy.
My hubby splurged on 2 iPhones (with leather cases). One for him, of course. Now, not being an electronic guru, I just didn’t know if I even cared about owning one of these things. I had always been fascinated by people who owned one and could stretch an image of their dog with just their fingertips. But I figured the fascination ended there.
Not so. Once I downloaded my first “app”. We iPhone people call them “apps” instead of “applications”. It’s our little jargon. What’s that? Your cell phone doesn’t have apps? Pity.
And it’s just that that gets you. You start with a free taste. I could stay up all night searching for new app freebees. For Christmas, I told everyone to give me iTunes gift cards so I could get another fix. I was hooked. More than hooked. I was on a gadget high so big I thought I’d never come down. I’d exhausted all the cool free ones. Shazam being my favorite. You can hold up your iPhone in a noisy Chili’s restaurant and it can still tell you what song is playing over the speakers, even if you can’t make it out yourself. Friggin’ amazing!!!
I’ve got GPS, restaurant critics, a carpenter’s level, a guitar, cute kittens with stupid misspelled captions, even an app that locates my husband right at my fingertips! Heck, I think there’s even one that controls the weather if I can just find where I put it. Yes, folks this was a love affair that would last a lifetime.
Until…
“Oh [expletive]!” says my husband from the other room. He dropped my iPhone moving it to the charger one day and shattered the glass front.
“No problem” I’m thinking. No doubt this is a 2-dollar part and is the last thing to go on and the first thing to come off in a repair. What could this possibly cost?
We take my shattered iPhone to the Apple Store with as much care as if we were bringing a wounded puppy to the vet.
“I’m sorry” says Eric, the 17 year old kid with the grommet in his earlobe. “You’ll have to make an appointment with one of our geniuses” as he checks out another teen customer who’s taking her own picture with a MAC.
Now folks, when entering a store in the mall, one doesn’t expect to hear the words ‘you’ll have to make an appointment’ but hey, they have geniuses! Fantastic! “Which ones are the geniuses?” I ask. I kept looking for someone with a pipe and a sweater vest and Einstein-esque hair but they all pretty much looked like Eric.
We make an appointment for the next day. They just couldn’t squeeze us in today. We come back and check in at our appointment time and still wait another 30 minutes to be seen by a ‘genius’.
He took one look at my shattered little friend and told us it would cost 350 dollars. 350 DOLLARS!!! I chuckled back with an old sit-com line. “I’m sorry. For a minute there I thought you said it would cost 350 dollars.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Yessiree! No matter what logic I laid at his feet about this being a cheap part and easy to repair, he wouldn’t budge. Not even the fact that we only paid $300 for the device itself moved him. “Apple policy” he cites.
I thought “Fine. I can live with the shattered glass front. Now it has character!” The fact was it did still operate perfectly well. So what if I had to extract tiny shards of glass out of my ear after each phone call?
After a week, we found a plan B. It was an unauthorized repair site where they could fix it for a mere 100 dollars. However the warranty would be officially voided. But in my opinion, if something else happens to this baby, I’m still not going to spend the $350 to get it fixed. The risk is only if a factory defect shows up suddenly. But so far, the gamble has paid off.
After this experience, I still love my iPhone but I handle it as if it were a test tube of plutonium. Oh, and for the record? I don’t think they’re really geniuses. I don’t even think they could make it onto Jeopardy.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Property of HGTV: If Kilowatts Were Raindrops
My 2nd installment on www.hgtv.com/changetheworld
My challenge to my family this last month: Lower the electric bill. This was actually more of a task than I had bargained for as our electric company raised its rates in the middle of our challenge.
Here’s how the conversation went at the dinner table last month…
“Okay, I have our first “Green Challenge” for my blog.”
“What blog?” says my daughter.
“You know, the blog I told you I was writing for HGTV’s Change the World?”
“I don’t remember you telling us about a blog” says my son.
“It was just last night.”
…silence… then not silence….
“What am I hearing in the other room?” I asked.
My son “The TV”.
“Let’s start there shall we?” (My family is not short on irony)
“Anyway… we’re going to be better about turning off lights, not leaving the curling iron plugged in, not leaving the tv on and see if we can lower the electric bill.”
After a few eye rolls I had what I thought was the team spirit. My husband’s task was to change out the old money-sucking lightbulbs to CFL’s, the squiggly-more-expensive-but-less-in-the-long-run-bulbs.
That weekend, the bulbs were replaced. And I began a campaign of interrogation just this side of the Spanish Inquisition. When someone entered the room, I would ask. “Where were you? Did you turn the lights off? Did you make sure the fridge was closed? Is that a radio I hear? Did you shut down the computer?”
Soon my test subjects became conditioned to my badgering and I was only able to eke out half of a question before their response.
“Did you turn off…”
“Yessss” (more eye rolling)
Then it was “Did you t-…”
And soon “Di-…”
And then just a raised eyebrow would do the trick. By George, I think they’ve got it! I had them trained! I was General Patton in front of the American Flag and these were my frightened soldiers heading for the front lines to do battle with the electric bill. Did we win, you ask?
We saved 38 dollars!! God Bless America!
Last night after opening the mail, I gloriously carried the electric bill into the living room for all to celebrate. This was a moment to cherish until my husband asked “Did you leave the light on in the kitchen?”
My challenge to my family this last month: Lower the electric bill. This was actually more of a task than I had bargained for as our electric company raised its rates in the middle of our challenge.
Here’s how the conversation went at the dinner table last month…
“Okay, I have our first “Green Challenge” for my blog.”
“What blog?” says my daughter.
“You know, the blog I told you I was writing for HGTV’s Change the World?”
“I don’t remember you telling us about a blog” says my son.
“It was just last night.”
…silence… then not silence….
“What am I hearing in the other room?” I asked.
My son “The TV”.
“Let’s start there shall we?” (My family is not short on irony)
“Anyway… we’re going to be better about turning off lights, not leaving the curling iron plugged in, not leaving the tv on and see if we can lower the electric bill.”
After a few eye rolls I had what I thought was the team spirit. My husband’s task was to change out the old money-sucking lightbulbs to CFL’s, the squiggly-more-expensive-but-less-in-the-long-run-bulbs.
That weekend, the bulbs were replaced. And I began a campaign of interrogation just this side of the Spanish Inquisition. When someone entered the room, I would ask. “Where were you? Did you turn the lights off? Did you make sure the fridge was closed? Is that a radio I hear? Did you shut down the computer?”
Soon my test subjects became conditioned to my badgering and I was only able to eke out half of a question before their response.
“Did you turn off…”
“Yessss” (more eye rolling)
Then it was “Did you t-…”
And soon “Di-…”
And then just a raised eyebrow would do the trick. By George, I think they’ve got it! I had them trained! I was General Patton in front of the American Flag and these were my frightened soldiers heading for the front lines to do battle with the electric bill. Did we win, you ask?
We saved 38 dollars!! God Bless America!
Last night after opening the mail, I gloriously carried the electric bill into the living room for all to celebrate. This was a moment to cherish until my husband asked “Did you leave the light on in the kitchen?”
Property of HGTV: Lovable Chaos
This post is actually from www.hgtv.com/changetheworld I am blogging for my own company (it's like giving it away... yeesh!) My assignment is to document my family's attempts at living green for a year. My call sign? "Gang Green". Here's the first post:
In my home, there is no clutter. The counters are kept clean. The paperwork never piles up. The laundry is immediately folded and put away while still warm. I have a beautifully manicured lawn with flowers that bloom each season. My two children are fed healthy dinners each night and then we read from classic novels before promptly going to bed.
Okay, you’re not buying this are you?
If I really had to describe life in my home in two words or less it would be “lovable chaos”. I have a husband with a home-based business, a 14 year old girl, an 8 year old boy, a large dog, and what seems like an even larger cat.
I am big on preservation and living green. I love this earth and don’t want to leave a big ugly footprint. However, the difficulty of leading that kind of life increases proportionally with the amount of living creatures in your home. So I would say I’m not earning too many green points compared to others.
Each day doors are left ajar, lights are left on, TV’s are left blaring, someone stands staring into the fridge for minutes at a time, my daughter takes 30 minute showers, and I sometimes dry a laundry load twice to fluff it up because I had left it in there so long.
My goal this year is to make my home and my family more earth friendly. This blog will be my witness and confession to the progress I am making as a working mother with her hands overly full who’s trying to “go green”.
For the record, I do have one can for garbage and one can for recycling. That’s about as “earth-conscious” as it gets in my house. However, I once considered switching to cloth napkins. But when the paper napkin package got down to three left, I panicked and drove my SUV to the store for more. Does that count?
In my home, there is no clutter. The counters are kept clean. The paperwork never piles up. The laundry is immediately folded and put away while still warm. I have a beautifully manicured lawn with flowers that bloom each season. My two children are fed healthy dinners each night and then we read from classic novels before promptly going to bed.
Okay, you’re not buying this are you?
If I really had to describe life in my home in two words or less it would be “lovable chaos”. I have a husband with a home-based business, a 14 year old girl, an 8 year old boy, a large dog, and what seems like an even larger cat.
I am big on preservation and living green. I love this earth and don’t want to leave a big ugly footprint. However, the difficulty of leading that kind of life increases proportionally with the amount of living creatures in your home. So I would say I’m not earning too many green points compared to others.
Each day doors are left ajar, lights are left on, TV’s are left blaring, someone stands staring into the fridge for minutes at a time, my daughter takes 30 minute showers, and I sometimes dry a laundry load twice to fluff it up because I had left it in there so long.
My goal this year is to make my home and my family more earth friendly. This blog will be my witness and confession to the progress I am making as a working mother with her hands overly full who’s trying to “go green”.
For the record, I do have one can for garbage and one can for recycling. That’s about as “earth-conscious” as it gets in my house. However, I once considered switching to cloth napkins. But when the paper napkin package got down to three left, I panicked and drove my SUV to the store for more. Does that count?
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