The Eco-Savvy Adventures of Fern Greene

Resistance is Futile: Greene Eating

2008-12-22T12:21:00.000-08:00

I've gotten a jump start on my 2009 Resolutions here at Greene HQ. Turns out that the simplest, easiest, most obvious thing is the one thing I wasn't doing. In fact, I was opposed to doing it.

What's that, you ask?

Menu planning.

It just seemed, oh I dunno - boring. Confining. Planning menus meant admitting that I was the only person responsible for feeding myself and three other people every day, day in and day out, except when Franklin stepped up to guest chef on the weekends.

But since I've started planning, my life is better. And so, here's my list of Ten Reasons to Love Menu Planning:

Without any real effort, we've cut our grocery spending by about $25/week. Our bills were inching up, slowly and steadily, to $125/week and often more, not counting Franklin's forays to pick up the paper and a few necessaries on the weekend. And not counting the $12 spent on locally delivered milk, cheese and eggs. My weekly bill now averages closer to $90 - including holiday indulgences.
Our bills will continue to shrink. The first week I spent a mere $65 - because I planned around what was in the pantry and freezer. I've always stocked up on some things at sale prices - mostly granola bars and cereal - but now I'm using the same principles for menu staples.
My weeknights are far less stressful. Instead of standing in the kitchen in a panic every night around six, I know what to do. And it's easy to think to defrost something the night before when I'm looking at my weekly list of menus - no more coming up with a Plan B because the chicken is frozen.
We're eating more varied meals. In a pinch, I reach for whole wheat pasta. Freddie won't eat it, and Franklin would rather not eat it every night. But a little bit of thought has turned up more meals that the whole family enjoys.
Shopping is faster. This is huge. I started menu planning when my daughter was about six weeks old. Shopping while wearing my daughter in her carrier is enough of a challenge. If I had to think about what we needed? Forget it. We'd be eating take out every night.
We're eating healthier ... errr ... we will be. One of my biggest challenges is getting veggies into our diet. We all voluntarily eat fruit, and we're not opposed to vegetables. But when you're a novice cook, it can take some doing to plan balanced meals. Over time, I think I can easily push our veggie consumption way up.
I don't even think of eating out. Okay, that's not entirely true. But I used to long to just walk down the street to a restaurant, where they'd have variety and someone else to do the dishes. By planning everything in advance, I rarely get the urge to eat out. In fact, eating out seems harder than eating in - the opposite of my old thinking.
Freddie is learning to cook. Cooking with a four year old has its challenges, but I'm amazed at how much he can do. This is the best part of the process. B.M.P. (before menu planning), he was playing alone in his room, out of my sight - or maybe parked in front of the TV or maybe begging for Goldfish crackers and string cheese under foot - while I cooked. Now? He's stirring something and telling me that he's "bein' a Top Cef." Menu planning allows me to think about how he can help and plan accordingly. As a bonus, he seems to always eat what he cooks - not true of meals that I prepare without his involvement.
I'm learning to cook. Yes, I cooked before this. But I didn't really know how to do much. By planning, I can evaluate what I know and what new challenges I can take on, slowly expanding my skill set.
It's green! Okay we're still not subsisting entirely on a diet of locally grown veggies and probably never will. And we'd already reduced our reliance on take-out dramatically. But now I'm learning how to reduce our reliance on convenience foods, choosing less processed options. And that is a huge step for me - a step towards healthier, less chemically intense products and meals.

In a month, there have been just two nights this completely fell apart. One night, I had picked out a new recipe that required putting the skillet in the oven to finish the dish. Our skillet isn't oven-safe. D'oh! I tossed together something else and Franklin used the ingredients from the abandoned dinner over the weekend. (He really is quite the cook.)

Another night we were off to have our family picture taken for the church directory and honestly? I fed the toddler, nursed the infant and decided that the adults would have to fend for themselves.

I'm pretty amazed that it's gone this well. In addition to meal planning, we've turned out homemade cupcakes for Freddie's birthday (the cupcakes were a mix, but the frosting was from scratch); chocolate chip cookies from scratch and banana bread from scratch.

Resistance is futile. Menu planning has changed my life.

Now what else have I been refusing to do?

Fern Versus The Families

2008-12-05T09:00:00.000-08:00

I could write about how Franklin and I are sometimes at odds on green matters, but the truth is that we're more or less in accord. (Yes, I think Franklin is a bit generous with the indoor heating and he's baffled by my reliance on pre-packaged convenience foods. But we're pretty much in sync overall.)

The people who challenge us are our extended families, in equal measure. While my brother-in-law is excited to be receiving a Sigg, my little sisters - women I love beyond measure - are hopeless shop-a-holics, doing their part to keep the consumer economy afloat. They scoffed at the idea of alternative gifts and much prefer their coffee in paper cups and purchases in store-issued bags, thanks very much. About their only eco-savvy activity is trading paperbacks back and forth.

As for my husband's family, that's not so much a case of wanton waste, but of a cultural emphasis on gifting. It's unthinkable to show up to someone's home without piles of presents, regardless of whether they're needed or desired. And they have set ideas about the right amounts of money to spend. A few days ago it hit me like a bullet - his aunt had spent a fortune on wedding silver for us (no, we didn't ask for it; yes, it's lovely; no, we never use it) at a time when her husband was scraping together freelance work and they couldn't afford to replace their only car. This is a sense of obligation that runs deep and defies logic.

The outcome of all of this is as follows:

1. Gift giving is frequently catalog ordering, one-step removed. If we're trading Amazon links for our desired gifts, we're not quite in the spirit of things. Why don't we just buy ourselves new coffee mugs and let my sister pay for her own sweater?

2. Most creative gifts end up at Goodwill. My sisters often choose things that I find charming, but they're rarely functional items that I keep forever. We loved our daffy, hand-painted margarita glasses - but faced with paying to store our belongings during a long distance move a few years back, they got the boot. The real beneficiary of their generosity is the local thrift shop - and that's too bad. I suspect my efforts meet the same fate.

3. We're just swapping gift cards. This is almost worse than #1, though it's less wasteful than #2. In recent months, we've bought some cool place mats from Crate & Barrel and a small television set from Circuit City thanks to gift cards. But we still have $500 or more of unredeemed gift cards in the desk. Franklin argues that it's wrong to use them for gifts for others, though last year I did just that. (We had $15 left on a Pottery Barn card that went towards books for Freddie.)

4. We're ignoring what's really meaningful. The only gifts my mother has kept through the years are the ornaments her children made in elementary school. When my grandmother died, I was amazed to learn that she still had some felt-and-bead monstrosities I'd sewn with my inexpert little hands decades back. I believe they went on her tree every year, in places of honor.

My mother has finally declared that all of this is silly, and that we ought to be jointly supporting a charity. She started out by dispatching my super-shopper sisters to find gifts for a few residents of a local nursing home.

I have hopes that my husband might be able to reach a similar deal with his brother. My husband's parents find this idea ridiculous; again, it's cultural and therefore we're hesitant to push too hard.

I'm happy to exempt children from this, mostly because each year I've been able to find unusual and clever creations from museum gift shops and local artists. My red-headed niece received a purple tutu last year; this year she's getting her name embroidered on a pink cupcake apron, both courtesy of small businesses. It takes some pre-planning, but I feel like those gifts are worth giving.

In our own little home, our Christmas has gone quite green, with an emphasis on celebration and seasonal activities rather than on mindless gift giving. But it's sometimes tough to get beyond your four walls.

With each passing year, Franklin and I have simply pulled back. We're spending less on gifts and we're trying to put as much thought as possible into them. But I often feel like a miser at this time of year.

Lots of green bloggers seem unfazed by their family's reactions, but to be perfectly honest, it still represents a struggle for me. Do we just keep on violating our values and judgment - or do we rock the boat? So far we're going with incremental change - but we might be at the logical limits of how much we can do without Having The Talk.

Three Pantless Years for F. Greene

2008-11-13T19:25:00.000-08:00

Franklin looked at me over dinner last night. "I think I need to buy some pants."

After some reflection, we concluded that it has been about three years since Franklin last purchased a pair of trousers. While his current job isn't super dressy, his collection of khakis is getting a bit less than workplace appropriate.

While this sounds praiseworthy on some level, it actually reflects how very wasteful we once were. On Saturdays, we woke up and went shopping. Not every Saturday - but often enough. The result was troves of clothing, vast reserves that we've yet to run through. Did we have the money? Not really. Did we need it? Obviously not. We just bought the stuff anyhow.

Franklin's trousers are probably wearing out in part because he now commutes on mass transit and foot. It's rougher on clothing than our previous car-based travels. If we were still driving to work, maybe our conversation wouldn't have taken place.

For us, the wake-up call came when we moved four hours away. Franklin went first, to a small sublet, while I stayed behind to sell our old house and pack up our worldly goods. Seeing just how many worldly goods we'd amassed - and having to pack, ship and store those goods while we waited for our new house to be completed - served as good incentive to have less stuff.

It's amazing when you stop buying things how very long you can go without needing a replacement. In fact, I suspect Franklin will go a few more weeks - probably months - before he actually buys those pants. Once you break the habit of shopping, it's actually hard to start again.

A Very Little Greene

2008-11-04T06:41:00.000-08:00

Little Miss Fiona Greene is here, and she's adorable. Franklin, Freddie and I are all smitten.

But with the arrival of the littlest Greene, I'll confess that our household has become less green. Here's a quick rundown of our challenges - and triumphs!

Diapers: We agreed to use BumGenius sized diapers starting with size one, meaning that we'd need to rely on disposables for the few first weeks. I bought Seventh Generation size newborn diapers to start us off. They were a huge disappointment - Fiona kicked them off! The shape is less contoured than many conventional diapers, and it's tough to fold them to avoid the belly button and cover the bum. On the upside, they do wonders for diaper rash - all of the conventional diapers we tried left her red and rashy. She's finally filling out her size one BumGenius collection, though, so we're feeling a little less trashtastic.
Breastfeeding: Triumph! I bought one book and one pack of gel pads for those first few (painful) days, plus a tube of lanolin and we're in business. It's amazing how much easier it is to leave the house and handle midnight feedings when all of the equipment is, er, attached.
Driving: I knew we'd drive more with baby on board, but I hadn't accounted for the following: my daughter hates the stroller. Hates it. She loves her sling and her Baby Bjorn, but if I'm carrying her, I can't carry a bag of groceries, much less all of the gear required to take a baby out for a few hours. (And, of course, if I'm on foot, I'm more likely to be out for more than an hour - it's a twenty minute walk to the store.) I've yet to track our travel, and I'm hoping we'll adjust back to our 25 miles/week pattern within the next month.
Clothing: We've been showered with little pink togs! That's great for our bank account, but not so nice for Mother Earth - especially since they all came wrapped in pretty pink paper. Still, about half of her wardrobe is hand-me-downs or thrift/consignment shop finds. It's so easy to do with newborns that it's just crazy that more people don't trade clothing or at least buy it second hand.
Laundry: We're back to using the dryer. Franklin is doing more of the wash, and he's not about to fuss with the drying rack. In any case, our eight pounds of baby girl generates a lot of wash - even I'll admit that it would be a strain to rely on the rack for everything, especially with the grey, overcast fall we've been having. But I must say, I'm really uncertain about the impact of all that water used washing cloth diapers!

Still, we've made some positive changes. We're now getting all of our milk and eggs locally, from a dairy that delivers. We share a box with a neighbor, keeping our delivery fees lower. And returning glass bottles? It's the best thing.

And we're working on replacing more of our cleaning products with the basics. We cleared a clogged drain with baking soda, vinegar and boiling water. Cheap, clean and guess what? More effective than Drano.

So it hasn't all been two steps backwards. But it does make me very aware that if you're not thinking green, baby's ecofootprint is far, far bigger than those little bitsy feet could ever suggest.

Love is the Drug

2008-10-14T12:38:00.001-07:00

When breastfeeding goes wrong, it can go wrong fast. As a clueless first time mother, I failed hard. By the time I figured out that we had a problem, our son was being admitted to Children's Hospital, dehydrated and jaundiced.

Freddie is laughably, blessedly healthy now, but I'll never forget those horrible first few days of confusion and uncertainty, followed by that endless night in the hospital. I pumped breast milk and supplemented with formula whenever I fell short. By the time he was a few months old, it was over - Freddie was on Enfamil full-time.

Fiona is a few weeks old now, and I'm relieved to report that breastfeeding is going just fine. Here's what's different this time:

I took a fabulous breastfeeding class before I delivered.
My delivery nurse was a certified lactation consultant who made sure we got off on the right foot.
Our hospital encouraged rooming in, meaning that Fiona and I fell into a rhythm from the first.
The maternity ward was filled with lactation consultants who were helpful and available.
I came prepared with the best book ever - Breastfeeding Made Simple.

And despite all this, the most important difference was me. I was fiercely determined not so much to breastfeed, but to follow my instincts. With Freddie, I knew something was wrong but kept thinking it was just new parent nerves. With Fiona, I knew things were going right from the first.

Which makes some parts of my experience baffling. While our hospital was, overall, pro-breastfeeding and very helpful, a number of nurses clearly were biased in favor of formula. The second night, after my daughter had lost a lot of weight, one nurse bullied me into feeding her some formula. I'm strong-willed and mule-stubborn, but she managed to put me into a full-scale panic. Since she came on duty at 11 p.m., it wasn't as if I had access to a second opinion. I gave Fiona a taste, but as soon as I had, it hit me. This is wrong.

So I checked with a lactation consultant in the morning, and our pediatrician when he visited and even though two more nurses tried valiantly to convince me to supplement, I politely ignored them. "She's lost 7% of her birth weight. Maybe you can give her some formula?"

"I think we're fine."

"We don't want her to lose too much weight."

"I think we're fine. Thanks so much." Cue big smile.

And don't get me started on the nurse who compared formula to dessert. Would she tell me to feed my 4 y.o. a hot fudge sundae after he eats his waffles and OJ every morning?

Because we live in a big city, our nurses were from every corner of the Earth. I wonder if some of that had something to do with it. The lactation consultants were women like me - white, educated, vaguely hippie-ish if you looked beyond the scrubs. Some of the nurses looked at me like I was a crazy, vaguely hippie-ish privileged white woman.

They're probably right.

Except that they're SO clearly wrong about breastfeeding. Because my daughter is thriving. She gained back her birth weight plus five ounces by her two week doctor's appointment, and now ranks in the 75th percentile for weight.

And we're managing without any special gear or equipment. Well, I did send Franklin out for those gel packs. But after the first few days, I haven't even needed them.

Don't get me wrong - I'm grateful that formula exists, because feeding Freddie was a challenge. Between having no maternity leave and a disastrous start to breastfeeding, if not for formula, he might have been truly sick - or worse.

But I wish every mother would have the chance to breastfeed successfully. Because I am so in love with my darling daughter, and this feels like the ultimate expression.

Save the World Decisions

2008-09-30T12:35:00.000-07:00

A few years ago, when the economy was booming and gas cost less than Pepsi, a colleague of mine commented on reports of a hybrid Hummer:

That's not a save-the-world decision.

He was right, of course. And it turned out that the Hummer Hybrid was just a rumor. (Never fear - the 2009 Cadillac Escalade is available with the, ahem, green technology.)

But at the time, I remember thinking to myself: What is our responsibility to make save-the-world decisions?

We've reduced our footprint dramatically, and on the occasions where I do opt for the less green, sometimes even wasteful choice, should I feel guilty?

Or should making a certain number of save-the-world decisions - sacrifices, really - allow us to choose places to be wasteful?

Here's my dilemma: I've decided to boycott conventional chocolate candy. Diane's Big Green Purse had me fairly alarmed about the ills of conventional chocolate - mostly that child labor is involved in cocoa production, but also a host of environmental considerations. I couldn't imagine handing out Hershey bars at trick'or'treat, knowing that kids the same age as our revelers had slaved to make it possible.

Instead, I decided we'd hand out little toys - Matchbox cars - and something other than chocolate. Our neighborhood is small; we know most of the toddlers who will trick'or'treat on our street before retiring to the community center. If we do get a bunch of older kids, we've got a few dozen Hershey bars left over from Freddie's last school fundraiser that will almost certainly suffice. (Yes, I know - I just said I couldn't imagine. But they're in our pantry, and really, it's even less reasonable to toss them in the trash.)

Instead, I bought animal cracker packs, stickers and Chinese paper yo-yos, plus little cellophane bags to put them in. I spent about $18. And I argued with myself the whole time.

Is this really any better than $10 worth of candy? Well ... the kids will have the Matchboxes forever; I'm planning to raid Freddie's excess of Play-Doh minis for the few girls in our 'hood. So it's not disposable. And the Chinese yo-yos can be recycled.

Speaking of the yo-yos, Fern - Chinese! It's all made in China. True. I'm part of the problem. But if I can't splurge now and then, I'll go crazy! We rarely drive, we recycle like mad, I'm super careful about our energy use and do my best to make green choices in our regular consumer habits. Can't we have a holiday?

At what cost, Fern? What if those yo-yos were put together by prison labor in China? $3.99 for 30 yo-yos? No economy of scale makes consumer goods that cheap without adverse impact. Yes. You're right, inner voice. They're wasteful and possibly dangerous. But I want them, I want them, I want them! I want to be the cool mom this Halloween, not the one handing out one tiny pack of spelt pretzels. I'm already the mom who wraps presents in the comics and sends whole wheat everything in Freddie's lunchbox.

And anyhow, Inner Voice, THERE WAS NO GREEN ALTERNATIVE! I suppose I could've bought Annie's Cheddar Bunnies in individual packages, but they're not enough of a treat to meet my criteria - 'round here, most kids eat those on a daily basis. Animal crackers work because our under five crowd is easy to please.

I suppose I might have Franklin scoop up a handful of Dum Dum pops from the corner store. They're manufactured about eight hours away - not local, but not Cote d'Ivoire, either. And the Spangler Candy Company is family-owned, which makes me feel a smidge better about this overindulgence.

It's not a save-the-world decision. It's the opposite, and I made it knowingly.

File this under "Green Guilt," while I renew my commitment to cloth diapering, second-hand finery and trying to source more of our food locally.

I have a lot of packaging to make up for.

Are You Okay with Hand-Me-Downs?

2008-09-29T07:04:00.000-07:00

My neighbors, a group of people for whom I am deeply grateful, recently threw us a surprise baby shower for Fiona.

We live in an interesting place - there's a fair amount of job security, given that many of our neighbors work for the federal government or are active duty military. (The latter group has a job security that is downright terrifying.) But our incomes are relatively modest when you consider the cost of living in the nation's capital. And so while most of us are two-income, professional families that appear to earn quite a bit, our lifestyles are by no means lavish.

This isn't the kind of 'hood that attracts people longing for the Glamorous Life, either. I suppose some of our neighbors could've stretched and a fancier 'burb, but it would've meant living outside the beltway.

Most of us are at least a little bit green, though it's inconsistent. The only family of hardcore vegetarians includes a shopaholic mom; the only family that really eats local also commutes via car.

But in recent days, a number of neighbors have asked how I feel about hand-me-downs.

My attitude? Bring 'em on!

Could we afford to kit out our kid? Of course! But why? If there are perfectly good kid clothes sitting in someone else's closet, I'm more than willing to dress Fiona in secondhand finery. Much of her baby clothing has come second-hand already, through the local thrift store and my favorite consignment shop.

But here's what puzzles me - if they're asking it must mean either:

1. They admire and respect my personal style and approach to dressing Freddie and don't want to interfere with our sartorial decision-making.

With a glance down at my well-worn, $3 clearance rack maternity khakis from pregnancy #1, I can safely conclude that's not it.

2. Some people consider hand-me-downs inappropriate or even insulting. Or something.

Looking back, I remember my mother disliking the hand-me-downs we received from a pair of cousins. But then, my cousins were allowed to adopt trendy, more adult styles a few grade levels earlier than we were. When we were all still in little girl sundresses, I seem to recall wearing quite a few of Hester and Hattie's things.

Other than issues of appropriateness, I can't fathom a reason to say no to 2T tee shirts. Should some of the tees declare Fiona a diva, princess or spoiled brat, I'll simply tuck those in the back of the box to be returned.

So ... I don't get it. Why would someone object to gently used kids' clothing? I'll probably still splurge on a few special occasion outfits and the like, but that's easier to do if most of her gear comes free of charge.

Why would anyone turn down such painless generosity?

Greene Housekeeping

2008-09-28T08:25:00.000-07:00

I've been reading Ellen Sandbeck's Green Housekeeping with a cautious eye. While I've been happy to switch to Method and Seventh Generation substitutes, I'm hesitant to ditch all of my green cleaning products in favor of white vinegar and baking soda.

Call me cautious, but the bottom line is that I'm new to running a household, and often feel overwhelmed. This is what makes me easy prey for the big consumer product companies and their over-processed, over-packaged chemical fiestas in the cleaning aisle.

There is something about Green Housekeeping's tone that can make you crazy - at least if you're a novice like me, prone to feeling guilty. But I'm happy to report that I got up the courage to try one of her suggestions, and it worked like a charm.

While our dishwasher is just a year old, I've never been sure how to clean it. Other than wiping it out a few times, I've pretty much just put in dirty dishes and hoped for the best. But after 14 months of hard service, it was undeniable that our clean machine needed some TLC.

So I grabbed Ellen's book and looked up her suggestions. Here it is:

Fill a bowl with two cups of distilled white vinegar. Place it on the bottom rack of the dishwasher and run a regular cycle.

Success! It was easy, fast, cheap and impeccably green.

She has another suggestion for cleaning out a garbage disposal using vinegar and baking soda. I'm going to try this one next week. (I used up the last of my white vinegar on the dishwasher.)

I'll also be taking a quick glance at the products I didn't buy to do these jobs - my local grocery store sells a $4 bottle of something designed to clean garbage disposals and a similar product for dishwashers. Can I count those towards our financial savings?

Hmmm ... not sure about that. But we can certainly count them towards a greener planet.

Ditching the Disposables

2008-09-26T07:44:00.000-07:00

Crunchy Domestic Goddess issued a "ditch the disposables" challenge for September and October.

I was initially at a loss as to what to ditch. While we haven't gone paper-towel free, we've cut down our use dramatically. (And switched to sustainable, paper-from-paper for what we do use.) But just thinking about the DtD challenge has me thinking differently.

Officially, we're ditching purse-pack tissues in favor of handkerchiefs. Franklin asked me to buy some; my brother-in-law carries them faithfully. And since Freddie's requests for a tissue are often, er, non-productive, I figured it would be an easy switch, and one that reduced our reliance on a heavily packaged product.

So far? Easiest green thing we've ever done.

But here are a few other disposables on which we've reduced our use:

I was an early adopter of Lysol wipes for quick cleaning; while I've switched over to rags, I've been in the habit of keeping the wipes on hand. I realized the other day that I've all-but-stopped using them and wouldn't miss them if they were gone.
Ding, dong the Clorox ToiletWand system is dead!
After weeks of the Diaper Debate, we've ordered three cloth diapers to test out. Assuming they work, we'll buy more.
I'm keeping a handkerchief in our bathroom, reaching for it instead of a tissue almost every time.

Combined with our other ditched disposables - over the last year, we've taken to using refillable Sigg canteens and travel coffee mugs, reusable shopping bags and (mostly) refillable containers instead of plastic baggies and wrap - it feels like we're really cutting down on our garbage generation.

There's always more to do, but for the moment, it feels like we keep managing to find simple, straightforward and logical things to do to make a difference.

One Small Step for the Potty, One Giant Leap for the Greenes

2008-09-25T06:18:00.000-07:00

When I first embarked on the greening of the Greenes, I agonized over costs. Seventh Generation dishwashing liquid is nearly three times as much as Ajax; don't get me started on Burt's Bees shampoo or Tom's of Maine toothpaste.

I was willing to do it, regardless. My family has given up so much recreational shopping that spending a little bit of extra cash to protect the Earth for our children is a sound investment.

But thanks to a bunch of other blogs and Diane's Big Green Purse, the light bulb finally switched on. (Must've been a CFL.)

For the past few years, I've been cleaning our toilets with the Clorox Toilet Wand system. I had an irrational fear of dirty toilet brushes. And cleaning the toilet seemed like this huge job of work - hours of scrubbing, surely. This nifty system made it so easy - just pop on a new head, swish and then toss the head into the trash.

Except.

The chemicals! The waste! And, as Franklin pointed out the other day, we've cut down on our trash so dramatically that the used heads lingered in our bathroom wastebaskets for at least a week, often more. Not really an improvement on a dirty toilet brush.

And then I did the math. It costs $5 for a box of six replacement heads. (Let's not even consider what I spent for the wands initially.) That's effectively 83 cents per cleaning.

Yesterday, I nipped out to Ikea and spent 99 cents on a toilet brush. (Was there a greener, recycled plastic option? Dunno. I'll wrestle with that in a few years when we replace the brushes.) That brush, plus a sprinkle of Bon Ami, will get the job done for a fraction of the cost. Let's say I use the brush for two years, or about 100 toilet cleanings. I suspect I'll go through about $3 worth of Bon Ami in the same period.

That is FOUR CENTS per cleaning - or a savings of 79 cents every week.

Over the course of year, that's $40. Multiplied by our four bathrooms? $160. No wonder Clorox advertised their ToiletWand system so aggressively. They talked me into parting with a lot of cash!

I'm starting to get it. I knew we couldn't afford to NOT go green, but I'm delighted to realize that we can save money, along with the planet.

Hallogreen

2008-09-24T08:22:00.000-07:00

Somehow, the good people at Grandin Road decided I was a likely prospect to purchase items such as a $200 inflatable haunted house to go on our lawn, and so they sent me a catalog.

We don't have a lawn. We have a sidewalk in front of our rowhouse.

Anyway, while I'm not about to buy something so dramatic - where we interested in decorating, it would be all cardboard cut-out tombstones and $5 worth of reusable cobweb - it did make me think that we haven't wrestled with what to do about my favorite holiday of the year.

Since I've been reading Diane's Big Green Purse, I'm well aware of the problems presented by major chocolate manufacturers. In brief, beyond the obvious packaging, there's the real environmental impact of deforestation and the problems of child labor on cocoa farms.

All of a sudden, I can live without my Reese's peanut butter cups, thanks.

But what do I do about Trick'or'Treat? Veggie Mom, my neighbor who tends to be so health-obsessed I fear her boy is going to rebel by sneaking out to McDonald's as a teenager, opts for pretzel packs. I considered hitting Whole Foods to see if I could find fair trade organic chocolate in single-servings, but that clashes with my cheap gene.

The drugstore has bouncy balls that look like eyes and plastic spider rings - but is that stuff any higher up on the moral ladder than snack-sized Snickers? After all, betcha those gew gaws were all Made in China under, ahem scrupulously monitored working conditions.

I've got a few weeks to wrestle with this one, but it does feel like there's no truly green way out, other than skipping the holiday entirely.

And that is just NOT an option.

Electrify My Life, Please!

2008-09-23T20:23:00.000-07:00

We drive a Jeep. Not very green of the Greenes, right? But we drive our Jeep Liberty all of 25 to 40 miles per week. And since we have outdoorsy habits - notably Franklin's kayaking - and a growing family to haul, we will not be accomplishing these things in a Prius.

Because we're usually on foot, on Metro or on city bus, I don't feel so bad about our gas guzzling behemoth in the garage. And, truth told, our Jeep Liberty isn't exactly a Hummer. But when I was in the dealership over the summer, I was disappointed to hear that there were no plans in the works for anything more eco-friendly. I figure plenty of Jeep drivers are also using them to haul bikes and kayaks and the like, and have an interest in saving the natural world so we can preserve our playspace. Instead, the eager sales associate told me, they'd introduced the higher mileage Compass.

Meh. Mileage is nice, but it was such a modest improvement that it didn't excite me. And the style? A little too soccer mom.

A few weeks ago, I was back at the dealership and noticed that Jeep had introduced Flex Fuel models - but only on their Grand Cherokee and Commander models, otherwise known as Very Big and Obnoxiously Oversized. I'm not sure if the Grand Cherokee would fit into our garage. (My best guess? I could squeeze it in, but would then be forced to shimmy out through the optional sunroof, as the doors would be pressed up against the walls.) As for actually acquiring Flex Fuel, at the moment we'd have to drive more than 20 miles each way to accomplish that task, so it pretty much torpedoes the idea.

As for the Commander? I've been for a ride in a Commander, purchased by a safety-obsessed friend weeks after her firstborn came home in a Grand Cherokee that she decided was too small. I felt like I ought to be invading a sovereign nation in that monster. I'd have to park it in the distant reaches of parking lots, next to RVs and school buses.

The picture seemed bleak. When I considered future car options, I found myself suggesting things like the Ford Escape Hybrid. Franklin, whose dad worked for Chrysler back in the days of foot-powered Flinstone engines, would frown.

But then today, in the midst of misery on Wall Street and Franklin's job in peril, Chrysler announced that they're working on a Jeep EV for release sometime in 2010. (The photo above is nabbed from their site.) Check out all the details here at the Jeep EV site. It's stylish and faithful to the Jeep legacy, and while we'd probably sacrifice some of our cargo room, it is apparently planned as a four-door model - one for each of the Greenes!

We're optimistic that our current Jeep can carry us through to 2010 - it's really only a little more than a year away, and we've got less than 85,000 miles on our current ride. Heck, if we can drive that thing until 2012, I'm happy to do so. But I'm delighted to hear that eco-friendly options are coming from my favorite manufacturer.

Because 400 miles on 8 gallons of gas? That sounds reasonable to me.

Raising Kids, Raising Cash

2008-09-23T01:03:00.001-07:00

I'm all about fundraising. Change in the world takes money, and it's not like there's enough of it for things that matter. We give generously when able. Heck, I've worked as a fundraiser and I know that giving can be transformative - for the donor and the receiver.

And I want to be supportive of Freddie's nursery school. Really, I do. Many of the families that attend the school have less than we do. But I just can't do it.

Here's why:

Actually, that part of my problem comes in the spring, during candy sales. The fall fundraiser that we're opting out of is slightly less problematic. The cakes and pizzas are at least made by a Maryland-based bakery. But they still arrive, over-packaged and with questionable ingredients. I might not always use 100% organic ingredients when I bake, but I'm certain that we're at least generating far less packaging waste.

No Impact Man reported that 40% of municipal waste is packaging. Walking Freddie to school on garbage days, I've little doubt of that. We go to some lengths to recycle cardboard and paper, even the bitsy bits that are easy to overlook. (Franklin, especially, is a champ about this. He's been known to fish things from the garbage can and shoot me looks.) We buy less. And if I see something that is absurdly over-packaged, I'm quite likely to pass it up in favor of something less bundled. Second-hand stuff, of course, comes with virtually no waste. But most of the world isn't listening, and we see garbage galore.

I've considered suggesting alternate fundraisers, but I realize exactly how much work they are. When many of the kids involved are infants, it's tough to argue for a read-a-thon.

So instead of selling cakes and pies and candy bars, we're just going to write a check. It feels a bit lazy. I'd be among the first to volunteer Freddie to hit up his adoring aunts, uncles and grandparents for donations in support of a walk-a-thon, but I'm not inflicting pricey lemon bundt cakes on the extended.

Actually, my Big Plan is to suggest that the elementary school - where Freddie will move next year for pre-kindergarten - do a trash-a-thon. My friend Y's daughters do this, asking others to pledge for every bag of garbage the class fills. They make a nice dent in tidying up their corner of the urban landscape, and betcha that those kids get the Don't Litter message loud and clear, as well as a very real sense of how much waste we generate.

It will take some selling on my part, I'm certain. There's a general attitude of dislike and frustration towards fundraising. Why don't they just raise the tuition? one dad complained to me. And I'm often left blinking, wondering why they'd want me to sell a dozen cheesecakes instead of just asking me for cash.

This year, they're getting the cash. Like it or not.

The Trouble with Toys

2008-09-21T21:04:00.001-07:00

A few days ago, I was shopping for a birthday gift for my cousin. In one of those funny things that happens in families, she's actually just a few months older than Freddie.

So Rachel was turning four, and because I like Rachel and her parents very much, I was attempting to find a gift that would satisfy everyone - my 4 y.o. cousin, her busy parents, my not-so-secret green tendencies.

And what I found was that even toys that appear to foster creativity really do more to straight-jacket it.

I didn't buy the Barbie Sticker Maker - but I almost did. A sticker maker seemed like a good idea - Rachel loves to draw and color and has recently discovered Barbies. But the opportunity to create was so narrow. It was all about coloring in an existing design, adding a few finishing touches. Most of the work came pre-packaged; complete. The verb "to make" seems woefully misplaced here - it was more like a fill-in-the-blank template than an invitation to imagine.

As I started looking at the other toys, I realized how few items were truly intended for open-ended play. Even the race cars that Freddie loves seems programmed to do what they do on TV, imitating races that we see on the Speed Network. It's not the end of the world, I suppose - the inclination with race cars is, of course, to go very fast while making "vroom, vroom" noises, even if you've never seen a race televised.

But in general, there are very few toys that require a heavy input of imagination and a huge number of toys that encourage children to follow directions. Even Play-Doh comes in kits that encourage you to use the provided molds to create a finite set of objects.

I ended up buying Rachel a craft kit consisting of many giant, oversized pipe cleaners, but even that came with directions about how to make a tiara. I hope she knows it's okay to make a lasso or a tree house or a doll cradle with them, too.

After we attended a 3 y.o.'s party, I was beginning to think that maybe I was a nut for thinking that way. Every other guest bought a gift with more direction - LeapFrog learning books and the like - while we gave a relatively modest truck and book about trucks. Was I just missing the point? Were kids more into toys that told them how to have fun? Was I the lame parent without a clue?

Let's leave open the possibility that I'm clueless and lame, but I'm not sure that I'm wrong. On Saturday, Freddie turned down the chance to go to the big park with the train and the carousel to visit the local park. He played catch with Daddy and we all took tree branches and turned a large, fallen branch into a drum of sorts. Freddie ran in circles until he was exhausted, then we took him home, where he ran into some neighborhood friends and decided to run in circles with them for a while, too.

Freddie has toys - as he would say, a lotsa toys. But we're doing our best to keep them creative toys that don't dictate how they are to be used. It's getting tougher with every passing year, but so far, we're not doing so bad.

We'll see what happens closer to Christmas.

O Mop, You Rock!

2008-09-21T20:49:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, I wrote about my disappointments with things that were supposed to last actually falling apart. Top of the list? The snapped handle on my Method o mop.

As it happens, a quick email exchange with the company resulted in one coupon for a brand new o mop being dispatched almost immediately, along with a few consolation coupons for my trouble. I went to Target, calmly explained that yes, the FREE coupon meant that I got the $24.99 Method o mop for $0, and came home to continue my campaign against dirty.

Since then, I've also resolved a problem with my Starbucks refillable mug. This time I just used a toothpick to shove the plastic ring back into place and whaddaya know? Good as new.

Then Franklin trumped both of my modest accomplishments by solving the problem of Freddie's tricycle by writing to Radio Flyer and having them send us two new wheels to replace the damaged ones on Master Greene's beloved ride.

A year ago, I'm fairly certain we'd have just pitched and replaced all three items without any effort at repair and/or replacement from the company. But this is a different day, and here's why:

As a family, we're committed to making what we have last. This means that while it's okay to enjoy our stuff, we also have to take care of our things and recognize that having stuff - bikes and mops and mugs - is a sort of stewardship.
As a family, we've decided that we want things in our life that aren't things. This means that we have to be fiscally responsible, even conservative.
As individuals, we're willing to stop and think about alternate ways to solve problems that don't involve hopping in the car and driving to Target. This means we have to evaluate how urgent the problem is and be willing to go without for a few days while we find a solution.

While the whole "The Greenes are buying less" bit is bad news for corporate America, I can honestly say that it is good news for companies like Method and Radio Flyer. They've earned our loyalty, and the dollars that we do spend in those categories are far more likely to go to them.

So here's to the o mop and the good people at Radio Flyer. And whoever made those toothpicks that saved my coffee cup. While our culture is still too obsessed with throwaway convenience, it's nice to know that it's not always that way.

The Diaper Debate

2008-09-19T13:03:00.000-07:00

Franklin and I tend to agree on parenting issues in the big picture sense, but lock horns on the details.

And with parenting? It's all in the details, baby.

Fiona is due any day now, and I'm still Very Interested in Cloth Diapering. It never crossed my mind with Freddie, but right now it seems logical and practical.

Franklin argues that if I master breastfeeding and he figures out how to make baby food from scratch, we'll be way ahead of the game. (Freddie was on formula after a few months and while we fed him organic, it was all store bought in jars.)

He also contends that using Seventh Generation diapers is several notches up from where we started with Freddie. To my surprise, my new go-to guide, Diane's Big Green Purse, suggests that even if cloth has an edge, they don't necessarily win by a landslide.

So here's my list:

In favor of cloth diapering

Even if it's only slightly better than the alternative, it is better to keep all that waste out of the landfills.
Laundry is something that I really don't mind doing. I'd rather do laundry than almost any other household chore.
We have a high efficiency washing machine and can use our a drying rack on our roof deck to minimize the energy used.
Cloth diapers have come a long way, and look and act like disposables - only you get to keep and re-use them.
None of our local stores sells 7G diapers. That means we'd have to make special trips to stock up, or order them from www.diapers.com.
Even if we buy the Cadillac of cloth diapers, we'll probably save money.

In favor of Seventh Generation diapering

After Franklin's four weeks' paternity leave, I'll be on my own for hours and hours and hours with the baby. And our toddler. Keeping up with laundry might be an issue - even without the added burden of washing cloth diapers.
Cloth diapers have to be washed every two or three days, and can't always get mixed in with other things. Even though our washer is efficient, it doesn't have a setting for smaller loads, so the impact might be greater than I imagine.
Fiona will go to part-time childcare in January so I can start a (real) job search. Our childcare center doesn't accept cloth diapers, so she'd be making the change at least part-time anyway.
Franklin's right - I want to put my energy into breastfeeding. I know that can be a challenge.
We spend a lot of time outside of our home, traveling mostly on foot and mass transit. While some women are brave enough to cloth diaper on the go, I'm not sure I'm her.

You see - it's pretty much even.

This morning, Franklin said, "Would you please just buy a cloth diaper and try it? Otherwise you'll just keep debating it."

He's right, of course. (This is also a clear signal that Franklin Greene has had it up to HERE with my pro and con lists and just wants me to decide.)

So I've decided to order a cloth diaper and take the let's see how it goes approach.

Only trouble?

Which cloth diaper!

The Upside of Being the Greenes

2008-09-18T10:52:00.001-07:00

Even in these days where Franklin's job security is questionable and my own income is non-existent, I take comfort in the little things.

It's a gorgeous early fall day in DC, the kind of day where opening the windows is all the temperature control required. Freddie was charmed by the many squirrels scampering for nuts on our walk to school this morning. The Farmer's Market opens in 30 minutes, and I'm going to buy a dozen eggs so we can have omelets this weekend.

And the amazing thing? It's enough.

While Franklin and I walked to the Metro this morning, we reflected that neither of us has any desire for the Finer Things. I don't want jewelry or sports cars or works of art. Franklin agrees. And while we've both turned it over in our heads, we truly don't want those things - they're not desires we're quashing. They're simply longings that we don't have.

What's valuable in our lives right now is time with each other, time with our children and the fact that we live in a neighborhood where we can walk outside and find pretty much anything we need - a pinch-hitter of a babysitter, a playmate for Freddie, help hanging a mirror, a decent microbrew, a good book to read.

The bottom line? Going green isn't about saving the world. It's about saving ourselves. We want less. We need less. And somehow, that has allowed us to make space for more.

I struggle with the price tag on Seventh Generation laundry detergent and Tom's of Maine toothpaste. But I never doubt our desire to make our ten year old couch last another decade, or to remain a one-car family. (In seven years together, we've never had two!) And I don't long for this season's designer duds or fancier dishes.

And so while I'm still on edge - at nine months pregnant, I certainly can't find a full-time job right now, and Franklin getting the pink slip would jangle our nerves - it's nice to be the Greenes. We like the simple stuff, and I wonder if that's really the linchpin of going green - of wanting things in your life that aren't things and of valuing people over possessions.

We're not saints. We're highly flawed. But I feel like we're on the right path, and even in these turbulent times, there's a lot of security in knowing that a drop in purchasing power is not going to cost us our happiness.

The Wish List

2008-09-17T17:02:00.000-07:00

In our old life, we had a messy house. We barely managed to do our laundry. Many a day started out by running down to the basement, hoping to find clean socks in the dryer.

Not good.

In our new life, I discovered how to run a household. And I found pleasure in the simplest things, like the discovery that Clorox Bleach did indeed whiten whites.

Franklin's undershirts, Freddie's socks, a stack of onesies saved for Fiona ... no challenge was too great.

Then I learned that bleach was bad, and switched to the Seventh Generation substitute.

It's not the same.

Don't get me wrong. I feel much better cleaning Freddie's tub toys with the greener, less toxic variety. But even adding the hot summer sun to the equation doesn't get the job done.

So what's less green - going through more men's undershirts and little socks, because really there's a point where they just can't be worn anymore, or protecting the local waterways?

I guess I'll try a few more old school remedies to bleach out stains, but if all else fails, I'm granting myself an exemption for a very small bottle of the hard stuff. I can't stand the thought of pitching all those clothes when I know how pristine bleach rendered my whites.

Small Grid Living, Part One

2008-09-17T10:26:00.000-07:00

I have a personal rule of thumb: if it can be accomplished within walking distance, behave accordingly.

This was the primary factor motivating my choice of personal physicians. If I hadn't liked them, I'd have switched - even if it meant driving.

At the time I looked for a pediatrician for Freddie, no one within easy walking distance seemed to be available, so I went with a recommendation for a doctor who turned out to be an absolute rock star.

Except then I realized that there was a practice just down the street that I'd somehow managed to overlook. I obsessed. I angsted. I finally convinced myself that proximity trumped bedside manner and logged on to our insurance company website to make the change.

Where I discovered that the closer practice isn't covered under our plan.

Rats!

Frugal Versus Green

2008-09-17T04:41:00.001-07:00

While the Greenes aren't actually feeling the pinch in our pocketbooks just yet, the economic downturn has us on edge. Franklin is stressed at work, and I was talking with a neighbor about the anxieties of being over-reliant on one income in a housing market where even a modest home carries an astronomical mortgage.

Yup, our income might be stable, but our confidence is badly shaken.

It's not a completely bleak picture. Franklin and I sat back the other night and reflected that what we value is life isn't stuff. Not being able to take off for a week in the Greek Isles or drop $1,000 at the mall on Saturday isn't worrisome. Heck, I'm okay if we can't go any farther than the local park. I might be allergic to the mall. It would be great to be able to keep on affording our trips out to the local ice cream place and bagel shop on the weekends, but again, I could give them up and not be heartbroken.

But it does shake my confidence in some of our green choices. Faced with buying gift wrap yesterday, I bought the clearance aisle, non-sustainable version. Okay, there was only one sustainable choice, and it wasn't kid-friendly anyway. But I couldn't bring myself to spend $6 instead of $2.50. (I'd already used the Sunday comics for the other birthday party we went to this week.)

I've been meaning to buy hand soap pumps for ages. Yesterday, I found one at Target made from "recycled glass." But it had no indication of how much recycled glass. And since it was made in China, just like everything else on their shelves, I didn't feel like 20% or even 50% recycled content justified paying $2.50 more. The one I bought cost $7 on clearance.

Then I went to CVS and bought Purex laundry detergent at a rock-bottom sale price. Combined with a coupon, I got it for $1.50/bottle for 39 loads. That's cheap.

In a week where I've discovered that Tom's of Maine deodorant costs twice as much as Secret, and Tom's of Maine toothpaste costs four times what Aim costs, well ... I'm anxious. I know what the right choices are, but I'm not sure that I can justify the price tag attached to every one of those right choices.

It's not a happy place to be.

Is It or Isn't It: GreenRoom Eco

2008-09-15T11:24:00.001-07:00

A few months ago, I went on one of my famous organizing sprees. It involved having shelving installed in our office closet, and then purchasing a variety of binders, folders and other office equipage to hold all of our stuff.

The result is that I am fabulously organized - sort of. But as I did this, I worried about whether or not my solutions were sustainable. I know I could've achieved similar ends by opting for shoeboxes and second-hand file folders. But I wanted it to be organized visually, and that's harder to do second-hand. Plus, the amount of time it would've taken to find appropriately-sized folders at my local Salvation Army store? I have free time, but I don't have that kind of free time. And yes, I wanted my shiny new shelves to look good, too. I am not beyond vanity.

So most of my purchases came from Target's stylish and sustainable GreenRoom Eco collection. I'd forgotten about it until I happened to walk through the store this morning and spot their new designs. They are, in a word, gorgeous. I want them, even though I have nothing to write, wrap or store.

Seeing the designs made me wonder, though - how green was my paper? They claim that they use 100% post-consumer paper (at least on the giftwrap I looked at today) as well as soy-based inks. But their website feels a little thin, and I've never seen them anywhere except for Target.

I'm not questioning their claims - just wondering how deep the company's blood runs green. Are they manufactured using sustainable processes? They seem to be designed by a company called Clementine Paper, headquartered in Venice, California. But there the trail runs dry.

And so I wonder, as I file another month's worth of paid bills and depressing quarterly statements from our investment accounts ... is this GreenRoom Eco line slightly greener than everything else? Significantly greener? Or about the same?

Inquiring minds want to know, but have no more time to Google search.

Knowing Green

2008-09-13T17:36:00.000-07:00

While I've yet to buy her book, I love the site Diane's Big Green Purse. She writes about how we can go greener by effective use of our purchasing power. It's a message that makes a lot of sense to me. It takes years and years and years to change and enforce government regulation, but we can become better educated, more thoughtful consumers almost immediately.

Except that trying to buy green truly makes my eyes cross. In a few categories - paper products, for example - I feel like the guidelines are straightforward and the products readily available. If they're more expensive, we've offset the increase by using rags instead of paper towels and handkerchiefs instead of tissues.

But cleaning products? I'm lost. And while Skin Deep's database makes some decisions easier, I'm often frustrated to discover that companies using organic ingredients and signing the compact against animal testing aren't necessarily producing the safest products.

Diane recently did a post calling for clearer standards so consumers could make intelligent decisions. But what interested me was the summary she posted of an Eco Pulse study on how shoppers think about the green factor of their purchases:

Half said that a company's environmental record is important.
Less than a quarter said that they'd actually chosen one product over another because it was greener.
Only 7% could name the product.

So not great news, but progress, right? At least there's more awareness than there was once upon a time. But there's also a lot of confusion, and having tried to become an educated consumer, I can completely understand.

What's so interesting to me about this is that it's a huge market. If you've heard about Chris Anderson's The Long Tail: Why The Future of Business is Selling Less of More, you've heard about the idea that a niche product can be a big, profitable hit because of the lower costs associated with the changing marketplace. The study was sparked by noticing how many of Amazon's sales were driven by fairly obscure titles. You could never find them on the shelf at Borders, but there's plenty of demand out there to drive sales. The same goes for Netflix. Yes, it's more convenient to have movies come to our mailbox. But more than that, they readily turn up the arthouse foreign flicks that Franklin prefers.

Back the eco part of the story. My family is inclined to be brand loyal. I tend to buy the exact same things, week after week after week, stocking up when they're on sale and making changes only after a lot of thought. In a very few categories, I'll buy one of two or three products, but I'm not the woman standing in the grocery store with a calculator and a coupon file. Okay, I have the coupon file, but I only clip them for brands we routinely buy.

As I become more frustrated by the difficulties of buying green, I'm simply favoring new brands. The staples of our household are no longer Procter & Gamble or Johnson & Johnson, but Seventh Generation, Green Forest, Method, Burt's Bees (even though they're owned by Clorox) and Tom's of Maine, along with a few other alternative brands and products.

Because there's no organic market within walking distance, I buy most of these products at our local Target and Giant. I'm perfectly willing to figure out where to buy the greener product and behave accordingly. But I move slowly - I changed our cleaning products first; I'm just working through our health and beauty products.

But a green certification process? I would change 90% of our shopping decisions immediately. We greened our paper in a matter of weeks thanks to this guide from the National Resources Defense Council.

So here's our household's answer to the study:

A company's environmental record is one of the most important issues for our purchasing decisions. Whenever possible, my dollars go to good corporate citizens.
We routinely choose greener products over others, and sometimes delay purchasing decisions because nothing seems quite green enough. This especially applies to our consumables - paper, cleaning products, healthy & beauty - but increasingly also applies to our clothing and even major purchases.
Can I name them? You betcha! Besides Seventh Generation, Method, Tom's of Maine and Burt's Bees, there's also Simple and Keen footwear, Sigg bottles ... and counting.

The message to corporate America? Get greener. It's the only way into my wallet.

Victory! Except Not.

2008-09-12T09:17:00.000-07:00

Recycling is a bit of a mystery here. Our Home Owners' Association uses a privately contracted garbage service, who in turn subcontracts to a recycling service. When I called to ask what they'd pick up, the Clueless Receptionist at the garbage service replied, "Everything."

FG: Everything? That doesn't make any sense. Aren't there certain numbers or other restrictions?

CR: Ummm ... lemme check.

***Hum to yourself to mimic bland hold music.***

CR: Hello, ma'am? I checked. You can put in anything.

FG: Lightbulbs? Aluminum foil? Yogurt cups?

CR: I think so.

I rolled my eyes and hung up the phone, and have been putting anything in the bin that seems to have a reasonable chance of being recycled.

But I've been angsting lately about yogurt cups. You see, I love Yoplait yogurt. Is it the healthiest thing for me? No.

Is it better than a large wedge of lemon cream pie? Yes.

Would I happily shove my entire head into a lemon cream pie if I thought no one was looking? Umm ... yeah, okay. Some days I'd do it in front of a live, televised audience.

So Yoplait Light has been on my list of foods I buy despite their General Mills, big food background. It helps that I can buy them in virtually every store within walking distance of our home, too. And they run coupons. Did I mention I'm a sucker for coupons?

Freddie has developed an affection for their banana flavor, and I've taken to sometimes sending one in his lunch box. At not quite four, he's getting wise to the fact that other kids have far more tempting treats packed in their sacks. If twice-weekly yogurt will stave off the inevitable requests for choco-sugar-coated-gummi-bombs, bring it on.

Here's the victory part: Yesterday, Freddie gleefully reported that he'd washed out his yogurt cup. When I opened Stripey, his tiger-shaped lunchbox, what did I find? The regular assortment of refillable juice box, plastic dishes and lids, plus one Yoplait yogurt container. He crowed about the same achievement to Franklin at bedtime.

Wahoo! My child has been paying attention! He knows that yogurt containers go to the left of the sink, so they can be rinsed, dried on the mat on the right side of the sink and recycled. He gets it!

VICTORY!

The downside? While I've since confirmed that our recycler probably recycles yogurt containers - they collect for the county next door, a progressive place that instituted extensive plastics recycling a few years back - it appears that Yoplait containers might still be problematic. Some of it is their hazardous-to-animals inverted shape (apparently squirrels and skunks peek in and end up wearing them as hats) and some of it is the type of plastic from which they're made, which some sites suggest is the least desirable type.

It's probably time to suck it up and switch to Stonyfield Farms. They have lemon. And, if I buy the big container, banana, too. Plus, we already buy Recycline toothbrushes, one of several products made from Stonyfield scrap. Only trouble? It would mean driving about 20 miles round trip to fetch them. We're tragically far from a decent organic market. Stocking up on cereal and such is easily done, but yogurt? Yikes!

Our Home Owner's Association is asking our management company to ask the garbage company (who will probably have to ask the recycling company) to clarify what they take. When they finish whispering down the alley, I'll have to make a decision.

Or, you know. Paint the containers and convince Freddie that they're better for stacking than Legos. If my kid is schooling his teachers to segregate garbage from recyclables, he might just go for it.

I'll Have A Green Christmas

2008-09-11T11:38:00.001-07:00

On the heels of my vow to go slow, I find myself musing about the holidays. They're still four months away, but with baby Fiona arriving smack in the middle, I'd like to be a bit ahead of the curve.

Over the past few years, Franklin and I have hit on one of the best ways to quietly go green that I can think of, especially if your families tend to find your views on environmentalism a bit pointless.

We resist buying anything that we need for ourselves or the house until the holidays roll around. Because my family asks for gift ideas - and is delighted when we send them the Amazon link - this means that we manage to acquire high quality items. While it's not truly green - they're still buying, wrapping and sometimes shipping the gifts - it is a few notches above receiving unwanted and unnecessary stuff. So far, this year's list includes:

Decent salt and pepper shakers;
A lemon zester;
Placemats and cloth napkins;
Wine glasses;
A wagon for Freddie.

Could we do without or find second-hand versions of the above? Absolutely! But if you're going to get gifts No Matter What, then this is a reasonable way to limit your personal consumption. Plus you can always work in eco-sneak gifts - cloth napkins, for example. And since my family tends to buy The Good Stuff, I'm comfortable knowing that their purchases are things that we'll have for decades.

With Franklin's family, we've taken a different approach. They tend to buy things that They Believe You Must Want. Franklin's aunt spent a fortune on a complete set of gorgeous, lovely silver place settings that we've used exactly once. It was, in many ways, a terribly thoughtful gift given by a woman who is still flummoxed by the fact that Fern Doesn't Care About China.

I suppose we can consider the silver a family heirloom, but other gifts in the series - the Special Occasion Cake Stand (what, as opposed to my every day one?) springs to mind - have been busts.

Luckily, it turns out that my in-laws are happy enough to buy gift cards. Whenever we contemplate a major purchase - like the 15 y.o. television we've just replaced, or the decent kitchen knives that we hope to someday acquire - the process begins several months or years ahead with gift cards. It's a nice compromise. And if it's not exactly green, well, again, it's slightly better than receiving another set of dessert plates.

While we feel like we've beaten back the worst of the holiday beast, there are a few other tricks up my sleeve for this year:

I'm choosing green gift wrap. We're not at the reusable fabric gift bag stage as a family, but I've noticed how many manufacturers now offer paper-from-paper. We put our gift wrap into the Abiti Paper Retriever bin at Freddie's school, too. I'm also trying to buy gift wrap that is non-seasonal ... solid silver, blue, red, etc. This means that any left over is used in short order.
I'm buying eco-sneak gifts whenever possible. My brother-in-law wants a Sigg. When I see what's on my siblings' lists, I might be able to think of some other creative ways to green up our giving.
Fabric ribbon, baby. My mother-in-law has been using the same bits of fabric ribbon for years now, and it's by far the best idea ever. If I see it heading for trash while visiting my side of the family, I can always take it back. And while we have very limited storage space, my shoebox full of ribbon bits is not a problem. While I don't necessarily have coordinated sets of matching bow and paper, it's amazing how quickly it dresses up a package.
I'm crafting found gift tags. Gift tags are one of those things that never quite work for me. They're expensive, and for some reason, I never have matching tags to coordinate with everything else. My aunt uses prior years' holiday cards as tags. I'm planning to do that and also keep an eye out for other things that come our way - junk mail, etc. - that could easily have a second life.

It's not much, but as I said, I'm dedicated to not taking on any more major initiatives - unless you count cloth diapering and breastfeeding a newborn - between now and year's end.

And who knows? Maybe I'll figure out a few more things to add to this list between now and then.

Slowing Green

2008-09-11T10:24:00.000-07:00

When families set out to go green, I think it's important to think about pace. While it often feels like we don't have the luxury of taking our time, I'm also inclined to argue that transforming our habits will never be achieved overnight.

If we want to make change in our lives and the wider world, we need to allow our new habits and practices to settle in and become not just deliberate, virtuous acts, but the way we go about existing on this Earth.

More importantly, we need to give others in our households and our lives a chance to catch up.

The Greenes have changed so much in the past 16 months that it's easy to think that we can change just as much every year. But if we did that, well, in another few years we'd be living off the grid in a cabin, waking every morning to forage for berries and check our fishing lines.

That's not the goal. At least not for us.

So I'm going to stop looking for new things to do and start looking for ways to do things better. I accidentally tossed a plastic bread bag into the garbage instead of recycling it this morning; when confronted with an invasion of ants, I sent Franklin to Home Depot for traps rather than to Whole Foods for peppermint oil.

This summer has been incredibly fun and relaxing, but as we head into fall - and Fiona's impending arrival - I do feel a need to slow down, evaluate and relax.

We're doing better, and sometimes it feels reflecting on our progress and giving ourselves time to relax into the changes is more important than imagining the next step.

Silent Green

2008-09-11T08:40:00.000-07:00

Here's something that I will never understand: if your product is reasonably eco-friendly, why not shout it from the Top of Someplace Very High?

That Adirondack chair on the left is coming to our home very soon. Okay, not him. Two of his friends are on order, hunter green in color, fruity cocktails not included.

Our lovely chairs started out life as humble milk jugs. Over in Syracuse, Indiana, some smart folks figured out how to make durable plastic lumber from objects destined for landfills. The result is no-maintenance furniture that does some good for the planet.

But they do it very, very quietly.

After tracking down a local dealer and confirming that Poly-Wood chairs are indeed as nice as they look online, and hearing that many customers were pleased with them, I placed our order. I mentioned that I'd stumbled on them while reading about recycled building materials. The store manager looked at me blankly. "They're made from old plastic bottles," I explained.

"Oh. I had no idea," she answered. "People just seem to like them."

So maybe she wasn't the most eco-aware soul on this planet. And hey, she already had my Visa card.

But as she processed the sale, I flipped through the catalogs. Sure enough, there was no mention of Poly-Wood's green cred on any of their promotional materials. It's visible on their website, but it didn't seem to be positioned as the brand's major selling point. (I hustled home worried that perhaps I'd confused Poly-Wood with some other material and had accidentally ordered furniture made from new materials.)

Maybe they don't talk it up much because their manufacturing might not be scrupulously green - I don't know. Extruding pellets of recycled plastic sounds unavoidably toxic. But it's a challenge that any manufacturer of new stuff faces, and plenty of companies - Simple Footwear, for example - do a nice job of admitting that they're flawed but improving.

Of course, Poly-Wood's materials weren't the only thing that drew us to the chairs. We need something durable that can sit outside year-round, in ice and snow and bleaching heat. and because it lives on the fourth floor roof deck of our rowhouse, we wanted something that wouldn't blow away. It proved to be an impossible list to satisfy second-hand. (I considered cast iron except that they were tough to find second-hand, tended to give off more of a delicate-perching-for-tea vibe than a crashing-out-with-a-beer-vibe and utterly failed the maintenance free test.)

But I drove more than fifteen miles - in my part of Metro DC, that's nearly forty minutes - to visit the dealer, by-passing plenty of cheaper, more convenient options. (Target, Home Depot ... you get the idea.) So I'm a bit dazzled that the store manager was completely unaware that the stuff was powerful enough to lure me across the county line into the more polished part of town.

Maybe that's just it. Maybe some people - the kind of people who spend $10,000 and up on Outdoor Dining Room sets and install an extra wine refrigerator next to their Kalamazoo Custom Outdoor Kitchen would prefer not to know that their furniture has a past.

Me? I'm planning on telling everyone who visits about the clever material used for the Adirondacks. Whether they want to know or not.

The Grocery Post

2008-09-06T15:16:00.000-07:00

Our grocery bill has been inching up, but only partially because of the general increase in prices. As we've gotten greener, we've been opting for foods that seem to be healthier, more organic, less processed. Here's what's in our cabinets nowadays:

Kashi cereals - Franklin and I are both fans, and Freddie doesn't even know what a Cheerio is - he calls them "Heart to Heart" after the similar Kashi product
Barbara's Bakery cereals - Freddie loves their Wild Puffs, and I find they offer a reasonable compromise between Fruit Loops and oatmeal
Fantastic World Foods vegan chili mix - Nope, we haven't gone vegan. Heck, we haven't gone vegetarian. But it turns out that in some foods, we don't know the difference and finding a slightly healthier version means we can eat it more often.
Morningstar Farms vegetarian sausage patties - This is a new one. Franklin is a huge fan of breakfast sandwiches, even though he knows they're Not a Good Idea. And so he invented his own savvy substitute, switching out the meat for the meatless. He tells me it's a bit like eating a falafel breakfast sandwich, but not in a bad way.

Add in lots of fresh produce and most weeks, I'm still stunned at the check-out.

Our grocery bill has dipped, however, thanks to the fact that we're eating less meat and much less red meat. We're also buying far less junk food. So the total impact is less than it could be.

And yet, I'm wondering how green many of these foods truly are. While I'm fairly confident that Kashi and Barbara's are good corporate citizens, I was surprised to realize that Morningstar Farms is owned by Kellogg. Why am I surprised that big food has a big reach?

Keeping Baby Greene

2008-09-05T07:57:00.000-07:00

Miss Fiona Greene is scheduled to join our family in a few more weeks, and we're hoping to welcome her in a reasonably eco-savvy fashion.

While I'll admit, I splurged for a $25 goldfish bunting - wasteful, frivolous and insanely cute - for the most part, I've been doing my best to practice sane, Earth-friendly parenting even before baby makes four. Top on my list? Mastering breastfeeding.

When Freddie was born, I was so busy trying to cram prenatal check-ups into my hectic work schedule that taking a breastfeeding class seemed an unthinkable luxury. Silly me. Freddie was a lousy latcher, I was completely clueless and because he was born just days before Christmas, the hospital lactation consultants weren't on their regular schedule.

Add in a pair of in-laws so taken with their first grandchild that they camped out in the hospital making me squeamish about trying, a mild case of jaundice and we were headed for disaster. We spent Christmas Eve Eve in our local children's hospital, watching frail Freddie squirm in an isolette, complete with an IV for yes, he was now badly jaundiced and dehydrated.

The story ends well - Freddie quickly recovered and ended up in the 99th percentile for height and weight just a few months later. He's still there.

But what I learned from my experience is this: when breastfeeding goes wrong, it can go really wrong. If you don't know your resources and options up front, it can be not just difficult, but dangerous.

Luckily, I finally found a good lactation consultant who mopped my hysterical self off the floor and taught me how to use a rented, hospital-grade pump. But this time around, I'm setting out informed and determined.

What I can't decide, though, is how much stuff I need. We have the Boppy and I kept my nursing bras. But should I stock up on Lansinoh now? How about breast shields or pads? I can't imagine investing hundreds of dollars in nursing wear. But what about that $35 Hooter Hider? Is it as frivolous as a wipes warmer, or the best thing since California Baby shampoo?

I'm looking at breastfeeding for all the right reasons - health benefits, mother-baby bonding, convenience - but also because it's gotta be the lowest eco-impact option - even if I buy a bunch of stuff.

But I can't help wonder - should I order some of the gear before I need it, assuming I can always pass it on if it proves unhelpful? Or should I just sit back and be confident that I'm so much more prepared this time, and know when to ask for help?

I'm inclined to do the latter, but there's still about a month to go. I might just buy that Hooter Hider yet.

The Light at the End of the Tunnel May or May Not Be a Train

2008-09-04T13:29:00.000-07:00

We're nearing the end of another dismal week on Wall Street. Our investments are bloodied and bruised. Our home's value isn't falling, but we couldn't sell it if we tried. And the prospect of starting a job search shortly after Fiona's impending arrival fills me with anxiety. Are there any jobs left?

But what's most interesting to me about today's news is that the markets were driven lower in large part due to retailers' reports that more families curtailed spending on non-essentials. In other words, Wal-Mart did okay; all those upscale chain stores at the mall, not so much.

I suspect that many of us who have gone green rarely darken the door of the local MegaMall. It's just not a place that has much that we want or need. My local Target anchors a decidedly modest shopping mall, but unless I'm cutting through to my doctor's office on the other side, I just about never go. And when I did venture into the mall by my mother's house, lured by a coupon, I bought Freddie two things I find tricky to find secondhand - new sneakers and a pair of jeans, all for less than $40.

Apparently, my behavior is bad for America's bottom line.

But the simple truth is that I am so much happier now that our weekends don't revolve around going to stores and acquiring things - a staple of the early days of our marriage and into our first days as parents, complete with lunch out at FatBurger.

We may be shopping less, but I'm confident that we have more. More time, more space, more sanity, more money in the bank and most importantly, more choices because we've defined what's important to us - and a new sofa every three years does not make the list. More years on our life because we're active and eating better and living with fewer chemicals, too.

But if going green puts the economy in the red, then do I really want every family in America do behave as conservatively as the Greenes?

Let me review our retirement portfolio for a minute.

If we go back to a robust economy, where everyone has plenty of discretionary cash, what's the environmental impact? Then again, if we languish in a recession for too long, the Greenes will be living quite close to nature indeed as Franklin's job could be in jeopardy.

I want to see the good in high gas prices, more families choosing to shop second-hand or not shop at all and all the other choices that are getting so much press lately. But I fear that this bust is just the precursor to a boom - a boom that will herald a return to the bad old days, plump up our IRAs and do a little more damage to Mother Earth.

Is a robust economy incompatible with eco-sensitive lifestyles? Say it isn't so.

Greening our HBA: A Job of Work

2008-09-02T08:42:00.001-07:00

Going greener seems to divide into two categories.

First, there are the Biggies - the major, sweeping lifestyle changes that usually require an output of thought, time and cold hard cash. For us, last year's Biggie meant moving to a home served by excellent mass transit where most of our regular needs can be met via foot, bus or train. Future Biggies will probably include adopting some solar technology and possibly replacing our (rarely-driven) Jeep with a lighter-on-the-planet, but still family-and-outdoor-activity-accommodating ride.

Then there are the Dailies - the habits that you can change slowly, that seem like they don't require much thought, that feel like they ought to trouble you none.

But as we begin the process of Greening our HBA, it feels like it would take less effort to install solar panels on the roof. Myself. While eight months pregnant.

Here's the trick: Merely buying a product labeled organic doesn't do it. My sister's favorite moisturizer looks like it's got green cred: Alba Botanica Sea Moss moisturizer. And it's available at my local Target for a mere $15. But it also rates a dismal 7 - or high hazard - at the Cosmetic Safety Database.

While I accept that nothing we ingest or apply is without consequences, it's dazzling - the same company can have products that rate all over the map, and some companies that look greener and safer are actually more hazardous than mainstream brands.

On my next trip past an organic market with a robust health & beauty section, I'm off to read labels. Too bad I don't have a portable CSD to tote along. This is gonna take some doing.

Safer Sun

2008-08-28T05:18:00.000-07:00

Next on our list: greening our HBA.

Health and beauty products are going to be a challenge. My inner cheapskate is adept at sourcing coupons and searching sales to score Pantene, Secret and Suave half-off. Sometimes better. And oh golly, do I stockpile!

Concerns about chemicals are part of my motivation, but I'm also influenced by a few other considerations. The greener the company, the more likely that the packaging is recyclable and/or contains post-consumer materials. (I'm not looking at my sunscreen, but I believe the tube is around 25% post-consumer content.) Spending my dollars on a more eco-friendly product is also my way of voting on what ought to exist in the world - in some ways, my purchasing power is the strongest muscle I've got to flex.

So when we finally worked through our backstock of sunscreen whilst at the beach a few days ago - but still needed some for the last gasp of summer - I spent about ten minutes in Target, debating. The $8 Coppertone or the $15 Burt's Bees?

This time my inner Greene beat out frugal Fern, and we tried it.

The most important thing? Neither Freddie nor I have a tinge of red on our fair skin, even after a long day splashing in the water and doing all the other crazy things that a preschooler gets up to in the late August sun.

It's a little thicker and trickier to spread than our previous products. And it's yellow - something that amused Freddie. The smell is divine, however, and the fact that it's chemical free? I felt perfectly confident slathering it on us both.

While the Cosmetics Safety Database gives the product a 3 out of 10 - moderate hazard - it was by far the best choice available locally. California Baby and Trukid both make slightly safer alternatives that earn a "Recommended" green light.

It's worth noting that not every higher-end product receives a better rating. While the CVS brand that we were using scored a dismal 7 out of 10, as did our Coppertone, a few widely available brands - like Sea & Ski - came out well in the ratings, even though I don't think of them as particularly green.

Maybe best of all? When I was re-applying the "yeltow" sunscreen to Freddie, another mom took note and asked me about my choice.

So while Burt's Bees sunscreen could be a smidge safer - apparently, it's that delightful, added fragrance that raises the danger level - it gets a thumbs up from me. And the fact that I can buy it right down the street? Total bonus.

Now if I could only work through all those bottles of Pantene ...

Seaside Heights ... of Excess

2008-08-21T20:09:00.000-07:00

It's one of the only constants in my life - the annual summer escape to the Atlantic Ocean. And as pleasures go, it's simple. Sand, surf, a little bit of sun if we're lucky and Franklin, Freddie and I are happy as can be.

So happy, in fact, that we break a bunch of rules while away. While we do stay in a hotel that recycles, uses CFLs and takes part in a few other green-minded efforts, we also engage in practices that are banned in our everyday life - most significantly, I buy Freddie juice boxes instead of refilling sippy cups.

The waste worries me, but I figure it's the equivalent of buying those mini boxes of cereal - my mother's concession to staying sane while in a hotel with small children.

But what bugs me - and yes, I'm still tense enough that I can be bothered by these things - are the sundries shops on every corner. Heck, they're on both corners and mid-street, too. You could arrive at the beach with nothing but the clothes on your back, and in a matter of minutes, have an umbrella, beach chair, boogie board, flip-flops, inflatable toys, sand buckets, oversized sand shovel, a swimsuit or three, towels, tee shirts and cover-ups, a henna tattoo and pretty much anything else you could imagine.

Franklin points out that we buy something at one of these shops nearly every year. Sand toys for Freddie in 2007; a beach volleyball in 2008. Like I said, we relax our rules as soon as we can hear the crashing of the surf.

So I'm trying not to judge lest we be blah, blah, blah. But what really crazes me is the highly disposable nature of this stuff. I've seen umbrellas tossed into garbage cans; beach toys forgotten in the sand; broken bits of shovel handles strewn about.

A few years back, Franklin and I owned one of those beach umbrellas. It cost about $8, and the frugal part of my brain thought, well ... we're use it more than two days, and renting an umbrella costs at least $10/day, so we're quite likely to get our money's worth.

Only thing is that the umbrella broke about three uses in. We replaced it, and the new one broke, too.

Now we mostly make do with our old Mexican blanket, whatever towels have been pressed into service and a bunch of other well-worn Greene Family items - our battered Siggs, a collection of sand buckets.

Still, I can't help wonder ... who's buying all of that junk, and how much use are they getting out of it before they need to replace it? And why can't we have durable, practical and safe outdoor toys? Hm? Hmmmm?

I'll be right there when you're ready.

Our Eco-Footprint

2008-08-18T07:09:00.001-07:00

So I took the Ecological Footprint Quiz over at Redefining Progress, and there's good news and bad news.

The good news?

In terms of every category, our lifestyle is well below the national average.

The bad news? Even our reasonably restrained, lighter-on-the-land lifestyle translates to:

3.13 EARTHS!

In other words, if everyone on the planet consumed as we do, we'd be seriously short the resources required to sustain life.

The area where we need to do the most work is our Food Footprint. It looks like we've reduced it the least, but when I consider how often we used to eat out, it may in fact be among our most significant lifestyle changes. More on that in a later post.

For now, take the quiz yourself.

Green: The Color of Imagination

2008-08-17T06:24:00.000-07:00

I may be the only aspiring eco-blogger out there to read the Wall Street Journal. My husband brings a spare copy home from the office because, while I've never worked in anything remotely connected to finance or industry, I find it fascinating.

Anyhow, in Friday's edition, Stephen Moore took on the recycling movement, calling the environmental benefits minimal, noting that we'd never run out of landfill space in the US and predicting that the proposed cap-and-trade anti-global warming system would save a lone polar bear and bring the global economy skittering to a halt. He is not a fan of Lexus liberals, people he suspects are more into green as a means to feel good than saving the planet.

And you know what? Some of his accusations are valid - especially that bit about people who freak out if you fail to recycle your Evian bottle while visiting their 4,000 square foot starter castle with the three-car garage.

But what baffles me is the implication that we should just stop with all this nonsense. Should we fine people for failing to separate their trash? (It's been proposed in San Francisco, and it's what set Moore on his screed.) Maybe. I have worked in local government, and the thought is not dazzling in its absurdity. What's more interesting, though, is the possible world waiting as a result of bigger greening technologies.

There's a fortune to be made, folks.

I've been reading Brian Dumaine's The Plot to Save the Planet and what comes through loud and clear is that creating solar panels or windows that can turn the average home from an energy-consumer to an energy-producer are not far away. Odds are that any company that can take it to market will make money - oodles and sacks full of coin - on a green innovation. After all, even the most die-hard anti-consumption type probably has solar panels on their wish list. That's just one of Dumaine's many examples of how green greed could allow a visionary entrepreneur to make a bundle while doing good.

It's already happening. How many of us regularly trek to Whole Foods with our reusable shopping bags and feel just great about paying top dollar for more responsibly produced products? Odds are that some of us drove a Lexus to the parking lot, sure, but let's not overlook the bottom line: we're buying better and the business model works.

When I think of a greener planet, I think of one that is also healthier, saner and more productive. We might have less stuff, and our stuff might be made of different materials, but that's not the same as saying we'll all be foraging for berries on self-governed communes talking about the bad old days of indoor plumbing.

As Franklin said, plenty of people dismissed electricity as a passing fad. If we could go back far enough, a couple of cavemen probably scoffed at fire. Green technology isn't just the province of a couple of aging hippies dreaming of Woodstock - it's the new world, and it represents a powerful, profitable opportunity that should not be dismissed.

Can This Suit Be Saved?

2008-08-16T07:09:00.000-07:00

As I type, Franklin is off to the other side of our sprawling metropolis, to visit a reputable tailor said to be able to reweave men's suits.

Among those who go green, I often feel like the Greenes are an awkward fit. I'm married to a guy who is a little bit Wall Street; a $1000 suit is not an indulgence, but a staple of his work wardrobe. He bought this particular suit in an end-of-season sale from an upscale local men's shop - by our criteria, it was both frugal and fit our definition of responsible shopping.

Anyhow, this immaculately tailored creation met a sorry fate. Franklin sat down at an event on a folding chair, and when he stood up, discovered that he'd caught - and torn - the jacket.

Some searching turned up a tailor with a reputation for repairing such mishaps. In between identifying the tailor and this morning's trip, an opportunistic moth family snacked on the poor jacket, which we'd stored in our spare closet, which is apparently a smorgasbord for hungry heterocera.

Reweaving is not the kind of thing that most people do. (And it might not be possible, given the damage.) Suit jackets routinely get tossed in garbage bags, I'm sure. But we're willing to give it a try. We have also re-soled shoes and re-lined jackets.

The trick is that in order to make the investment in repair, you have to have made an investment in the first place. You have to believe that the effort to fix something outweighs the ease of replacing it. It's a shift in thinking.

But it reminds me of the mantras repeated in Aldous Huxley's distopian Brave New World. Ending is better than mending. The more stitches, the less riches. Repair was contrary to the happy little consumer culture in which the Alphas, Betas, Gammas, Deltas and Epsilons lived in their biologically pre-determined castes.

It's a little scary to think that repairing your clothing - and that buying classic clothing worthy of repair in the first place - is a subversive act. But it's amazing how often we don't consider it a choice.

At the end of my son's nursery school year, I noticed that his lunch box was much the worse for wear. I contemplated replacing it - but after about 10 minutes with my favorite Seventh Generation dish liquid and a sponge, it looks just about new. What possessed me to consider tossing it in the garbage can? I guarantee it would've taken far longer to get a new one than to clean up the current - and beloved - Stripey the Tiger lunch box.

Let's hope the tailors have good news for Franklin.

A Flaw in the Plan: Should We Buy More?

2008-08-15T13:06:00.000-07:00

On the list of People Likely to Go Green, the Greenes are far down the list. I base this on Franklin's profession - he's a highly compensated attorney who works mostly in financial services for a well-heeled, white-shoe law firm. Statistically speaking, we are probably more likely to own a Hummer than a hybrid.

But that's not the whole story. Franklin has a passion for kayaking. Spend five minutes on the average river in Metro DC, and you'll be an environmentalist, too - excited by how close we can get to the natural world in the midst of a huge urban area, revived by how great it feels to connect with the natural world, but worried about the impact we're having on such vital waterways - and disgusted by the amount of garbage swimming with the fishes.

So the Greenes have been going green - not bright, stark, off-the-grid green. But green. And it turns out that this is a funny balance to strike.

We can buy a flex-fuel vehicle - but we'd have to drive about 15 miles to find a station where we can fill it up. That's about as many miles as we travel by car many weeks. Because so many of us who go green manage to cut our car use to almost nothing, who will drive the desire for alternative fuels?

We don't often buy towels. When we do, we want to get the greenest possible version. But because our not-green counterparts are buying around six bath towels every year, without regard to their eco-credentials, when we do buy our six bath towels for the decade, we'll be harder pressed to find substitutes.

If we want there to be greener products available, should be shopping more?

I always remind myself that even green products take energy to produce and transport and sell, so even the greenest purchase is not without impact. But surely we don't intend to shutter the consumer economy and buy nothing ever again?

Do we?

Okay, I don't.

So how do we get greener products more affordable and more widely available? Hmmm ...

Progress Report, August 2008

2008-08-14T14:56:00.001-07:00

Last month, I wrote about How We've Gone Green. It's nice to look back and realize that we've done quite a bit to reduce our carbon footprint. To recap:

Unless we're headed on a trip, we rarely drive more than 50 miles a week - in fact, we're often right around 20 miles per week;
We clean greener - more rags, mostly eco-safe products;
Everything but our dryer is an EnergyStar appliance;
We cook at home, eating out infrequently instead of daily and consuming lower on the food chain than before;
We recycle diligently and have cut our weekly garbage output to around one kitchen-sized garbage bag;
We carry cloth, reusable shopping bags everywhere;
The paper products we do use are as green as possible.

There are a few other changes we've made:

Our water use remains low - about 40 gallons per person, instead of the average of more than 70;
Even in humid DC, we keep our AC set no lower than 78 degrees, and normally it's around 80. We make up the difference with ceiling fans;
We're buying more of our shoes - one of those things that I find nearly impossible to get second-hand, especially for our toddler - from companies like Simple and Keen with sound eco-practices;
We're just plain not buying much!

But I've also written about our Top Ten Eco-Sins. Maybe they're trivial in relation to our sweeping lifestyle changes. But every little bit helps, and so we're taking on the following challenges for the next few months:

We'll be using cloth diapers combined with Seventh Generation disposables when baby Fiona arrives in October. Yes, yes, I know all about how it really isn't necessary to change out of cloth for a trip to the library, but I'm not feeling quite that brave - yet;
We're going to start using a drying rack for at least some of our laundry;
I'm going to continue to cut down on my use of disposable cleaning products, especially those pre-moistened wipes. I mean, do I really pay $2 for 40 little pieces of paper wet with chemicals? Am I crazy?
We're continuing to spend more of our grocery budget at our local farmers' market.

We've talked about a few other changes, but with a new baby on the way, I think that's about what we can tackle for the rest of the year. Wish us luck!

All Dried Up

2008-08-14T13:13:00.001-07:00

Here's the Challenge of the Moment in the Greene household: I've lugged home a drying rack from Target.

I was inspired by a post over at Green Baby Guide. A million years ago, I had a drying rack of my very own. It was one of those mysterious items on the "must-have" list to go away to college. Did I ever use it in my dorm room? Maybe.

But as a broke grad student relying on the coin laundry in my basement, I used it constantly - until it collapsed. I didn't replace it. By the time it broke, we were in a house with a washer/dryer, so it seemed silly.

I should have, actually. Because I've always had enough delicates that require hand washing and drying that I used to turn our bathroom into a giant maze of hangers and such. And that was when we had just the one shower. Remembering Franklin's irritation at shuffling around half-damp sweaters and pantyhose, I hesitated to consider air-drying to save the world.

Then I read the post, and thought about it again. What sold me was this: a dryer uses the most energy in our households, on an hourly basis. The only appliance in our entire house that is not EnergyStar rated, as it happens, is our dryer. I'm not sure if it is possible to replace it with a more efficient model - we have a stacked unit, and there aren't as many models available.

Even if it were possible, the bottom line is this: our washer/dryer is located on our top floor, which is sparingly used. I could easily set up the drying rack in the guest bath, or on our roof deck.

Franklin agreed that it wouldn't make him completely crazy, and so here we go: The Next Green Experiment begins.

Material World, Consumer Culture

2008-08-13T13:11:00.001-07:00

I came across an offhand comment in a book the other day - it was a novel set in Paris. The line talked about how the French love material objects, but aren't consumers in the American sense.

A light bulb immediately appeared over my head.

If there's something that has always irked me about Going Green, it's that it sometimes means Going Ugly. One frugal friend comes by her eco-cred via a very small income. While there's nothing wrong with the clothing she and her kids wear, there's also not a lot of choice. Their budget dictates the thrift store and hand-me-downs. I've also known families who are simply crafty and artistic - they could sew dish towels into couture, could make garage sale castoffs look like a room from Architectural Digest.

We're not broke, and we're not good with our hands. And we do truly love some of our material possessions. I think that makes us fairly average, actually - able to afford some luxuries, unlikely to craft superior substitutes and unwilling to go without every single time.

Maybe that's part of the key, though.

Let's dish. Actually, let's talk about dishes.

At 20-something, I moved into my first apartment. So did my husband. We each acquired dishes - mine, a set of cheap Correlle; his, a marked-down set of Sango from a discount store. Other dishes found their way to our homes - four dessert plates on clearance at Pottery Barn; soup bowls from a French onion soup making phase; new cereal bowls bought on sale. I eventually purchased a set of "good" plates. Then we married, registered and received a whole new set.

About three years ago, we looked up. With the exception of the Correlle, we still owned pretty much all of it. And none of it worked. We wanted a set of dishes that we could add to, enough to serve six, possibly eight, maybe even more. None of our sets were easy to augment.

After some thinking, we settled on Fiesta Ware. At the time, we lived fairly close to the Fiesta Ware factory, so it was pretty common to see it around. We decided that it met all of our needs, as follows:

It is well made. While it's not fine bone china, it's sturdy, serviceable stuff that can withstand daily use.
It will likely be available into the indefinite future. If we break one dinner plate, we replace one dinner plate - not the whole set. As our family grows, we can add another few dishes.
It is reasonably timeless. While colors come in and out of vogue, the overall look is Basic Dinner Plate - nothing exciting, but with a bit of fun thanks to the vibrant mismatch of colors.
It has a secondary market. If we did decide to get rid of our Fiesta Ware, it would find a good home. If we keep it until we go to that Grand Perhaps, then it's just as likely to find a home.

I get pleasure from noting which new colors are being released and from plotting which pieces to buy next. We hosted Thanksgiving dinner last year and got to buy a gravy boat. It's just about time to add a few more dessert plates to the collection, and I'm scanning our shelves to see which colors we don't own.

It's a modest acquisition, and one that isn't green by its own merits. It's green because it passes a test for longevity. Odds are it will be in our cabinets for the next 50 years. Plenty of families probably go through five or six sets of dishes in that time span.

And so I start to wonder - what if we can flip the conversation so it's about buying better quality? Spending more to get something that you'll want to keep for decades, not just a season?

It's not a popular way of thinking, but as we've bought many of our more recent purchases, it has informed my thoughts. Freddie's Svan high chair, for example, is such a lovely thing that I anticipate it may well be a high chair that serves my grandchildren, or at least my nieces and nephews. The wood fits in just fine with our dining room - you don't know there's a high chair in our big open space until you're watching me plunk a kid in the seat. The same can't be said for all of those white plastic and vinyl contraptions on the market. Yes, the individual chair costs $70 - a third of the Svan's price tag. But it isn't likely to have as long a useful life - and so there's a price to consider in that sense, too.

Modern life is necessarily a material one - we sit on chairs, we work at desks, we eat from plates, we wear clothing. Material goods are not inherently bad.

Perhaps it's time to separate brainless consumption from intelligent materialism, and embrace artistry and craftsmanship - and to stop feeling guilty about loving the built environment.

Square Footage

2008-08-11T11:33:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we visited friends who live in a not-quite rural part of neighboring Pennsylvania. They're lovely people, thoughtful and kind.

And their new house is my Worst Nightmare.

While it's not an obnoxious size, it does measure in at about 2300 square feet - according to NPR, just a tiny bit shy of the national average of 2,349 square feet. This does not include their 3-car garage or sprawling basement.

Our home comes in at about 1700 square feet, sans basement and with a modestly-proportioned single car garage - and seems impossibly big most days. Still, our entire main living/dining/kitchen space would fit in their football-field of a kitchen.

Part of it is location. Land is cheap out there; so are houses. It might not be possible to find comfortable family home that wasn't super-sized - or maybe 2300 square feet is considered exactly that. In Metro DC, house costs remain stratospheric, so it's easy to find builders touting "luxury" amenities like granite and exposed brick in a compact footprint.

MSN Real Estate reports that back in 1950, the average American home came in at a petite 983 square feet. Plenty of families grew up sharing one bathroom and would view either of our family homes as palatial.

We've lived in a modestly-proportioned, early 20th century home with one full bath and a tiny half bath tucked into an (unheated) attic. I'll admit that it made mornings hectic, and the thought of sharing tiny cupboard-like closets and one pedestal sink with a family of four set my teeth on edge.

But when we went to buy our new home, I was astonished to discover how far we've come. We wanted 2.5 baths - one in the master, one for Freddie and Fiona and a half-bath off the living area. Instead, we found ourselves with 3.5 baths - one for every floor of our tall, slim townhome. It appeared to be the smallest number of baths available in new construction.

Just as gas-guzzling SUVs are out of vogue at the moment, perhaps houses, too, will find themselves put on a diet. And there are good ways to green any home, even one that tops 4,000 square feet.

But wouldn't it be easier to just opt for more function, less footprint?

While we didn't knowingly follow Sarah Susanka's Not So Big House principles - I stumbled across the book just weeks before we closed on our new home - it's informed my thinking about whether these 1700 square feet are our starter home or our family homestead. Susanka wisely points out that making a home bigger doesn't automatically make it more comfortable. In fact, I found it disorienting to step into the foyer of our friends' home and see bunches of doors in an empty hallway - to the garage, the basement, the powder room, closet after closet. She also notes that by reducing our square footage, we can often invest in higher quality - and more sustainable - materials that make our home far more beautiful and inviting than a yawning cavern of space.

And so that's how we're thinking. Never say that you'll never move - life is long and surprising. But if we do, it simply will not be because we really need a media room or a wine cellar.

Wonderland

2008-08-11T11:04:00.000-07:00

Our home is a wonderland of pre-packaged foods. With the exception of bananas, eggs from the Farmer's Market and perhaps the odd tomato, mushroom or onion, virtually nothing enters our home in a mostly unprocessed form.

It strikes me that there is a fairly simple explanation for this excess: I don't know how to cook.

For more than a century, Big Food has teamed up to help women cook better, faster, healthier - though, of course, many of those vaunted health benefits were illusions.

Today, when so few of us grew up tutored in the domestic arts, we aren't just looking for Big Food to show us room for improvement - it's the only way we know how to do it at all.

My (foreign-born) mother-in-law, if handed apples, can make applesauce. I suppose I might manage an approximation, given a limitless amount of time and some incentive. But since 1930, Mott's has canned and sold their applesauce in a convenient, ready-to-eat jar - no peeling or coring required.

For the past year, we've been trying to eat healthier - more veggies and fruits, less red meat and far less fat, salt and the other culinary big bads. This is certainly somewhat greener. Cosmos Magazine sites a Japanese study that equates producing one kilogram of beef with driving for three hours and leaving all the lights on at home. (Hmmm ... is that driving a Hummer or a Prius? And are those CFLs in your house?) An American Chemical Society article reports that while buying local does reduce your household's carbon footprint, buying less red meat is even better - they argue that distances food travels are less of a factor than production concerns.

So while our health-inspired trip lower on the food chain has some positive environmental results, I can't dismiss the fact that I've miles to go before I could consider our food footprint petite.

Because deprived of the premade (and whole grain breaded) chicken nugget, frozen bagged veggies and vegetarian chili mix, my family would likely starve.

Or at least complain a lot.

Greener-Than-Thou

2008-08-08T09:25:00.000-07:00

Friends of ours recently attended a 4 y.o.'s birthday picnic, families included, for a guest list of about 35. My friend - I'll call him Z. - reported that they did the whole party without any disposable plastic wear or paper plates.

This seemed noble, at first, but it transpired that the hosts did not, in fact, own enough reusable anything for all of their guests to eat. So mid-way through the festivities, a few party-goers leapt in and started hand-washing dishes and utensils so that others might eat, and of course, in order to serve the birthday cake.

Apparently, the father felt that he'd already made a big concession by buying paper towels. Z. said that he made much ado over "having to ask which aisle they were kept in."

Really?

We don't have a dog, but it wouldn't take a GPS for me to find the Puppy Chow. And I'm sure the family buys toilet paper, which is almost universally stocked mere steps away from the paper towels.

It's one of those Greener-Than-Thou moments. I'm guilty of them myself - sanctimonious, smug episodes where we trumpet our sacrifices to Save the World.

I completely respect the hosts' desire to avoid landfilling paper plates. But it is simply poor planning - and lukewarm hospitality - to expect to serve 35 people on two dozen plates.

As Z. described the family's digs, it was also noteworthy that they lived out in the middle of nowhere, a lengthy commute to, well, anything and everything. Nor was it a small home, despite the fact that just two adults and one child lived there. They might be making some planet-friendly choices, but I'm not buying the Staunch Environmentalist pose.

Anyhow, I've been keeping Z.'s tale in mind myself. I think it's important to make better choices, but I also can't help think that we need to recognize that most of us are imperfect creatures, forced to choose between a host of factors. And sometimes, it's best to simply buy a pack of paper plates and keep mum about how you're saving the planet.

If you want to brag, get a blog. ;)

Garbage

2008-08-07T13:55:00.001-07:00

Riddle me this: how do American households produce so much garbage?

We have twice weekly pick-up and average one or two 13-gallon bags per week. Granted, we don't have an infant in the house, and there are only three of us.

Our service supplies huge, 50-gallon garbage cans, which is laughable.

To me, anyhow. The house across the street regularly fills their garbage can plus puts extra bags on the side. They don't own a business or work from home - in fact, I rarely see them come in or out of the house. What are they doing to generate 300 gallons or so of garbage every week?

Really, I'm puzzled.

I do note that they don't put out a county-supplied recycling bin - nor any container, our recycling service isn't fussy. And yes, we do to some lengths to recycle paper, cardboard and other items that many households trash.

But still, it's enough to make me want to sneak over in dark of night and undo their Hefty bags. Because you really, really wonder.

Fall Frenzy

2008-08-06T16:37:00.000-07:00

As a kid, I think I started begging to go back-to-school shopping sometime around the Fourth of July. Everything about the process thrilled me - I'm still a sucker for a bulky sweater and a fresh composition book.

While my mother was a reluctant shopper and always argued for delay, most years I ended up with pretty much everything I wanted, from Kangaroo sneakers to fancy pencil cases to Jordache jeans. When I left for college, I had the same level of madness: a drying rack, a plastic shower caddy. Never did I consider myself anything but overindulged.

And yet I'm overwhelmed by the number of products on the market - and the fact that many are required purchases by our children's schools.

Target allows schools to publish supply lists online - a brilliant move, I think - and has them available in-store, too. Many teachers are deliberately modest, keeping their supplies to around $10, which a savvy shopper could probably cut in half. But I've counted a few lists that go closer to $50, and contain items that I consider pure madness. More than one list requested stretchable bookcovers. At $1.50 each, even six wouldn't be a huge financial burden, but it is $10. What ever happened to brown paper bags and masking tape?

Some of the requests reflect tight school budgets. Markers and scissors used to be supplied by classrooms; now teachers are relying on parents to fill up their supply bins at the start of the year. The same goes for tissues and hand soap, items we regularly buy for Freddie's nursery school.

At the same time, I was reading interviews with shoppers in neighboring Virginia, the recipients of an annual tax holiday for back-to-school shopping. The interviews detailed their purchases and their cautious attitudes, and I must say - to my ear, they didn't match. One mom purchased six shirts, five pairs of jeans, a dress and a sweatshirt - all for one 10 y.o. child. And this was their second day of shopping.

I'm truly puzzled. Costs are up; income is down. Even less-than-liberal folk agree than environmental issues are real. But instead of just not buying, the solution for many seems to be bargain hunting - hitting Target instead of Macy's, or the outlets instead of the mall.

Of course, I don't have a 10 y.o. daughter - I have a 3 y.o. son content to roll in dirt and wear his sandals on the opposite feet. Who knows what life will be like when Fiona is old enough to read the circulars and lust after the 2018-equivalent of a Camp Rock lunchbox?

I don't have an answer; I'm not even sure I have a question. But I finally understand why my mother greeting the waning days of summer with groans of frustration.

It's Fall Frenzy time, and opting out feels impossible.

American Idiots

2008-08-05T10:21:00.000-07:00

One way or another, much of my life has been spent around first generation Americans and recent immigrants - in fact, Franklin's parents came here to escape communism in the 60s. I don't understand it firsthand, but I do have some sense of the attitudes, hopes and fears that color newer Americans' experiences.

Here's what baffles me.

If there's anything that seems characteristic of the American experience, it is a wild and unrestrained excess of freedom. I can say whatever I please. My religious, political and other personal convictions are not subject to review or persecution. I have a reasonable expectation of safety, too - that there are no marauding armies likely to knock on my door in dark of night and take me away. A colleague once called it "freedom from the sound of jackboots marching."

While a college student myself, I tutored a group of women recently arrived from an African nation known for conflict and unrest. Their English was good and they were hard-working, but they struggled with essay questions. Why? As one explained to me, having an opinion can be dangerous. We want to say what we think you want to hear.

That stayed with me. I see it with my husband's family, people who tend to never say what they think. Some of it has to do with notions of civility, but I suspect it also reflects a deep-seated sense that keeping your opinions private is a good way to keep your family safe. Decades after slipping past the Iron Curtain - decades after the Iron Curtain crumbled - they're still politely disinclined to share an opinion about matters weightier than a favorite flower or a possible vacation spot.

It seems like arriving on our shores ought to be an invitation to open your mouth. To create. To discover. To build.

Once upon a time, I think it was. My immigrant grandfather, while not a Great Intellectual, was an intrepid entrepreneur - the typical small business owner of a generation past. What's more, he wrote poetry in his youth, in the days of the Great Depression. At a moment where most had little, being American meant being resourceful, creative and industrious. Even in her 80s, my grandmother never hesitated to tell her family where she stood.

When did the dream change so dramatically?

Today it feels like the American dream - for newcomers and long-time Americans alike - is no longer about the chance to paint, to talk, to scream if we're so inclined.

Today, it's about the opportunity to amass huge amounts of stuff and house it in the largest house possible.

The American dream is no longer characterized by freedom, but by consumption. You've made it when you turn the key to the door of your McMansion, with SUVs in the attached 3-car garage and wall-size flat screen televisions throughout.

Peace and plenty have always been linked, of course, but our definition of plenty used to be a lack of hunger, not access to dozens of sit-down restaurants prepared to offer up a 2000-calorie mega-feast whenever you've got a hankering. The kinds of meals that we eat on a regular basis were once the stuff of holidays and celebrations. Now they're just another Tuesday night.

Freddie and Fiona are coming into a world of material overabundance and spiritual, intellectual and creative poverty. I'm trying - desperately - to encourage them to see a world rich in possibilities, even if their paths don't lead them to material success.

This is challenging. And in our neighborhood, where so many families are new to our shores, I worry that it's all being lost. We take our freedom so very much for granted, we take futures rich in possibility and squander them in favor of another cartful of stuff from the MegaMart.

It is not the dream I believe people die for; not the dream I believe my ancestors crossed the oceans for; not the dream I want any of my children or my children's classmates to dream.

Thneed Nominees, August 2008

2008-08-05T09:32:00.001-07:00

Any good greenie knows Dr. Seuss' The Lorax. And any good green parent can probably recite the host of ills that come to town when the Once-ler moves in and starts hacking down Truffula trees to manufacture a multi-purpose thing-a-ma-bobber called the Thneed: no more fruit for the brown Bar-ba-loots; fish driven out of their pond by industrial gunk; birds chased away by the smog.

At story's end, of course, the conclusion is that we don't need Thneeds; we need trees. And the boy listening to the tale is entrusted with a few truffula seeds in hopes that he'll regrow them.

Still with me? Here are my Top Five nominees for Thneed Status, starting appropriately, with Thneeds for Babies and Children:

The Bath Luve & Buddy: Available at www.onestepahead.com for a mere $12.95, this handy dandy frog-shaped blanket allows parents to dip it in the warm bath water, then cover baby - all to make bathing a little more pleasant. Look, I've washed a screaming infant in the dead of winter and know that it's not a fun task. But it does not take a mighty brain to dip a regular old washcloth in the warm water and accomplish this same act.
Potty Training Targets: These might've escaped my wrath, save that they market themselves as eco-friendly. I sympathize with parents who want their sons to aim true - cleaning up Freddie's misfires is not my favorite way to spend an afternoon. But do I really need to spend $12.95 plus shipping for an assortment of animal shapes to place in the potty for my son to pee on? They may be made up of nothing more than twenty layers of colored tissue paper, but they're manufactured, packaged and shipped. My aunt accomplished the same goal 20-plus years ago with Cheerios. Creating an uber-specialized uni-tasker? Convenient, maybe. But eco-friendly? Never.
Wipes warmers: If you're very green, chances are you're not even using disposable wipes. At the other end of the spectrum are the parents who have made a wipes warmer one of the most popular registry items over at Babies'R'Us. Beyond the manufacture of the product, there's the electricity required to run this puppy. Yes, it's minimal. But is your baby really so sensitive that a cold wipe will scar him for life? I'm baffled.
Shopping cart covers: A ear-nose-and-throat doctor friend of mine - who spends much of his working day dealing with allergies - ensures me that there's such a thing as too clean. I suppose that parents of preemies or other vulnerable newborns must be hyper-vigiliant, but what's with the rest of us, putting our hale'n'hearty 18-month olds in the shopping cart only after plunking down one of these jobbies? Some parents defend them by noting that you can attach toys to the cover. But I've managed to attach toys to the good ol' fashioned bar of the shopping cart, thanks to those linking rings. Worst of all? According to Consumer Reports, there's no evidence that they cut down on getting a cold. Your best bet? Wash your hands - and save your $50.
Beaba Babycook: Parents make their own baby food for a host of reasons; saving money is often cited as one. But blow $139.95 on this "French baby-food maker that has won praise throughout Europe" and you'd better be feeding two sets of triplets if you expect to recoup the investment. Why on this green and verdant earth would you buy a specific item, when a blender or food processor does the job just as well? And if you must buy something, why not a mini food-processor that will go on to make pesto and other foods? It takes less space to store, you'll have it for years and it costs about $35 - a quarter of the price of the Beaba.

We all need stuff, and parenting is one of those moments when we're especially tempted to buy solutions in sweetly-decorated packages. It's important to remember that not every problem is best solved by a purchase. Some of these things really are Thneeds - they ain't green, there's no way to make them green - save to simply not make them.

The Fate of the Fork

2008-08-04T12:01:00.001-07:00

Three or four years ago, a public garden near our (then) home concluded a major renovation and unveiled, among other expansions, a truly delightful cafe. Because the gardens sat betwixt a pair of major universities and just blocks from the city's main library, it was often a convenient spot to meet a colleague.

The garden cafe featured many innovations - a vegetarian-friendly menu, inventive cuisine, interesting beverages - but one of the first to capture my notice was the use of biodegradable disposables. Being a garden center, they were willing and able to compost like mad. Even though I'd barely had a green thought back then, it seemed logical - and noble.

Lately I've noticed those same items popping up elsewhere, often in civic-minded public venues. Only trouble? They're going into the regular garbage.

I scratched my head and did a little bit of digging. Apparently, most cornstarch-based cutlery will biodegrade in a matter of months in normal composting conditions. But regular old garbage does not break down - be they egg shells or engine parts, the landfills that hold most waste prevent most items from breaking down - possibly ever. We're tossing out 195 million tons of garbage every year, and it's just sitting there.

So why, I wondered, switch to cornstarch-based forks only to never let them meet their destinies?

The good news: most disposable plastics are made out of petroleum-based materials, so cornstarch is automatically a notch or two better. As oil prices rise, that means that cornstarch based products appear more affordable. Making the switch to a greener product is always easier when it requires less financial sacrifice - and some people with no green agenda will do so if they can save a few nickels. It's perfectly possible that my compostable fork was just plain cheaper than whatever it replaced.

I've also seen potato starch and sugarcane-based substitutes, so there's no shortage to innovation in the category. If someone is unhappy with the performance of their greener cutlery, it's easy enough to swap it out for something that will serve.

What is in short supply is a handy place to compost these puppies, and that's the bad news.

Twenty years ago, the idea of having household recycling pick-up seemed like a long shot. My mother was openly annoyed by the idea of having to sort our garbage; Franklin remembers his parents telling him not to bother, especially because he was running the water (and upping their utility bill) to wash out those cans. Today, it's second-nature to most of us, and is a big part of the reason why we're not landfilling more than 200 million tons of garbage every year.

The next step, I think, is to figure out composting at a municipal level. While many people can - and do - have compost bins in their homes, it's not functional for everyone. In the Greene household, it remains a subject of ongoing debate, especially given our relatively small outdoor space and lack of a garden in which to use the results of our efforts.

But would we happily segregate our compostables and leave them out for collection? With gusto. It's something I'm going to push our Homeowner's Association to investigate when our trash collection contract is up for renewal.

In the meantime, I'm not sure what to do. We've been trying to avoid fast food and quick service venues that don't use regular flatware. But it's not practical in every case, and I'm not ready to carry a set of my own utensils.

Yet.

Exactly How Not Disposable, Hmmm?

2008-08-04T10:16:00.000-07:00

After a year of going greener, I'm wrestling with an unexpected issue: exactly how long-lasting are my reusable purchases?

In the past week, I've discovered that the handle of my Method o-mop is about to snap. After a solid year of using it to clean virtually every floor in my 1700-square foot townhouse, I'm not shocked, but I do think it is too soon - after all, the omop is not recyclable. So while I'm not overly fussed about springing for another $20 mop, I am concerned that I'll be putting one in the trash every year. That just can't be.

As it turns out, the Method website notes that other users have reported a similar problem, and invited me to "call or email for resolution." We'll do that, and report back. After all, I believe the company is sincere in making greener products and keeping me loyal.

I'm less convinced of mega-coffee chain Starbuck's commitment to Mother Earth. While I don't find the chain as inherently evil as some, it's hard to overlook the 2.3 billion paper coffee cups we're landfilling every year.

But when faced with abandoning my chai latte addiction or greening up my act, there was a simple solution: I dropped $10 on a refillable to-go cup. Since I got my first drink free, that drops the purchase price to about $7; factor in the dime-off per use, and in a mere 70 refills, I'll have broken even.

Only problem? I've used it only about 60 times and the rubber ring in the lid is coming loose. I was able to push it back in place with a toothpick, but will the seal hold long enough for me to break even? More importantly, will the seal hold long enough for me to feel that I've justified the purchase and use of a bigger, plastic, probably-not-recyclable (though it has a #7 on the base) item?

My friendly barista today mentioned that they're encouraging customers to use their in-house ceramic mugs and shared my concerns about the sustainability of all those paper cups marching out the door, hour after hour. I was delighted to hear his comments, but reluctant to leave my personal cup at home. After all, they remember to serve my pastry on a plate instead of a bag only about half the time; I suspect the rate for cups versus mugs would be no better. What's more, I've really come to enjoy my confidence that no one else is taking my drink - a chronic problem on busy mornings.

I don't expect my coffee cup to last forever. But I figured it would be good for two or three years, even considering the harsh use it gets traveling in my bag with a laptop, or tucked underneath the jogging stroller.

But this is the tricky math of green: is my refillable cup merely a feel-good status symbol, or have I actually done lasting good? I'm inclined to believe that there's some positive impact, but surely there's more good done if my reusable items are around for a while.

Greenthieves

2008-08-01T10:17:00.000-07:00

Here's a funny negative to adopting green behaviors: Being accused of shoplifting.

Yup, you heard me right.

Let me back up. We live just outside the limits of Washington DC, very much inside the Beltway, in a 'hood that isn't exactly the 'hood, but is by no means upscale. Our tiny enclave of townhomes is very nice. But we're not the hippie chic quasi-commune rich with food co-ops and progressive recycling programs, not by a long shot. That's fifteen miles - and tens of thousands of dollars in property values - farther up the road.

So it's somewhat unusual for a customer to walk into a store with her own bags. Goya and Kashi compete for shelf space at our local grocery; brands like Cascadian Farms and Seventh Generation are only starting to make inroads. Organic apples are not available - in fact, very little organic produce is available, save for the weekly farmer's market.

One of the first times I told a cashier that I had my own bag, she asked me, "Aren't you worried someone will think you stole this?" And I replied, "But it's an Old Navy top, and you're giving me an Old Navy receipt, right?" She shrugged. Retail in poorer neighborhoods, apparently, presumes guilt.

But I shrugged it off. I'm affluent; I'm honest; I'm friendly. Hey, I'm married to a lawyer. And what's more, since only buying what you can carry means shopping more often, well, I'm a regular at my local Target, Giant, CVS and Rite Aid. The Target security guard has long since stopped checking my receipts. (Another fixture of lower-income neighborhoods - security guards, and they're not there to protect the shoppers.)

Anyhow, basic green behavior is as follows:

Walk to the store.
Make a small number of eco-savvy purchases, the amount you can carry home.
Pay for them, and put them in your own bags.

If you have a stroller, of course, you can carry more, but you'll need to fit your purchases into the stroller basket.

It just so happened that I went into Rite Aid this afternoon, about an hour after leaving Target. We'd been to the library in between. When I walked into Rite Aid to buy a bottle of Coke Zero (I know, not very Fern Greene of me), I forgot that Seventh Generation dishwashing liquid and Method Wood for Good were riding under my stroller basket, along with six library books. In order to fit the books and the liquids, I'd taken them out of my reusable bag and positioned the bottles so they wouldn't tip.

After the Rite Aid cashier rang up my soda and I swiped my debit card, she said, horrified, "OH! What about those things?" and pointed to my stroller basket. Confused, I replied, "Oh, no ... they're mine. I've already been to Target this morning."

She huffed. "You have to tell me that."

I blinked. "Why? You don't even sell these brands here."

But she was already calling over a manager to make sure it was okay. The manager - a young girl with more tattoos than me - took one look at my "The Hell" expression and said, "It's fine, don't worry about it."

Had there not been a long line behind me, I might've gotten more worked up. The cashier, too, was eager to make her case against me. And if the manager hadn't been handy - and sane - it might've been worse.

After all, I also had a large tote bag on my shoulder. Did she want me to dump it out and somehow prove that my Burt's Bees lip balm wasn't lifted? That I hadn't been secreting ball point pens and post-it notes in my bag? And what about my cheap sunglasses? Should I have been sporting a "paid" sticker on the frames? What about my refillable coffee cup? Did she want proof that it wasn't somehow cleverly slipped into the back pocket of my jogging stroller whilst their cameras were directed elsewhere?

It irked me for a dozen reasons. She's a cashier I see at least once a week; she's a cashier who watches me put my own things into my own bag every single trip. Her line was miles long, and I'd already been waiting to check out for nearly ten minutes. I'd spent twice as much time waiting to check out as I'd spent shopping. My toddler son was fussing - he'd taken off his sandals and was trying, unsuccessfully, to re-insert his feet. Some of that's not her problem. Okay, the fact that we were late for our lunch and I was sweaty and annoyed at the wait? Not at all her problem.

But the fact that a cashier can't distinguish between someone trying to cut down on the number of plastic bags she takes home and a shoplifter?

Yeah. That's her problem. That's a problem for retail everywhere.

Because it's not a crime to bring your own shopping bag.

The Trifecta

2008-08-01T06:18:00.000-07:00

I'll admit it: going green was a by-product.

When we radically changed our life a little over a year ago, I ended up adopting three principles, in conversation with my husband:

Is it frugal? We were giving up my income and moving to a very expensive urban area. While my husband's new salary more than made up for those changes, we needed to think carefully about how we intended to live going forward. We'd paid off virtually all of our debt during our move. Our goal was to live way below our means, and to have money in the bank, instead of owed to the bank.
Is it simple? Most days found us stressed and exhausted in our old life. We weren't happy, and it was bad for our marriage, our child, our healthy, our sanity. Simplicity meant less stuff, more time. Less stress, more joy. It's the hardest concept to articulate, but when you're in your life, you almost always know the right choice.
Is it green? Believe it or not, being frugal and simple and sane actually leads to being green. First, you've got the time and energy to think about it. Second, many of the activities we chose now that we had time pushed us to be more in touch with the natural world - kayaking our urban rivers, taking long walks through our local parks. And lastly, since this all happened along with us having a young child - soon to be children - it's hard to not think about the world we're leaving for them.

And so while our Green Quotient has gone up - way up - in the past year, it's only part of the picture. Many of our choices - walking and relying on mass transit whenever possible, for example - actually have to do with #2. Rather than fuss about getting to the gym, both Franklin and I easily walk two miles a day without thinking about it - it's how we get from A to B. So we're getting a minimum of 20 minutes of daily activity. It allows Franklin time to decompress from work, connects us to our neighborhood and gets us a daily dose of Vitamin D - sunshine, the natural mood lifter. Since we often walk together, it also allows us time to connect as a couple.

The fact that it's frugal factors in, too, and when I need encouragement? Well, it's green. And that keeps my feet on the pavement, even in the heat of a Washington DC summer when I'm heavily pregnant.

So that's the trifecta - hard to pull off, but incredibly fulfilling when it happens.

Smarty Pants: The Cloth Diaper Debate

2008-08-01T05:34:00.000-07:00

I've done the research. We want baby Fiona to be green. And cloth diapers are, while not without some impact, by far the greenest of the options.

Still, I've determined that an all-cloth approach would be doomed to failure. We spend a lot of time outside of our home, and I couldn't haul back a messy cloth diaper with the groceries. Remember, we're avid pedestrians, and the basket under the stroller is only so big.

So we would use Seventh Generations when we were out, or in a pinch during laundry loads. But the rest of the time? Cloth. Why not, I figured? We have our own washer/dryer. We could always put a soaking bin in our large master bath, steps away from our daughter's changing table. And I'm not fussed by getting stains out of laundry - I've potty trained the World's Most Reluctant 3 y.o., after all.

And yet, it seems like this is harder than it should be. Here are the obstacles:

Cloth diapers aren't cheap. Sure, they are if you use the old-fashioned squares with diaper pins. But that would be a recipe for failure - I know how easy it is to velcro on all those lovely, disposable tabs, after all. I'm considering using bumGenius diapers, which cost about $200 for a dozen - which seems like the absolute minimum to get through a day and create a load of wash. We'd need to use each of the cloth diapers at least 60 times to save money compared to Seventh Generations.
Cloth diapers aren't all that easy to launder. Apparently, they can't go in with the regular laundry, even the regular baby laundry. That means either a) running partial loads, upping the eco-impact or b) having dirty diapers around until we've collected a full load. They sometimes require a re-washing, and sometimes need to be set out in the sun to bleach. We could do that - our laundry machine is right next to our townhome's roof deck - but again, if we've got them sunning themselves on the Ledo Deck, they're not available for use.
Cloth diapers aren't accepted by our childcare center. And I completely understand their reasoning - they already regularly store soiled baby togs, and with space limited, it's tough to contemplate keeping all those diapers on hand, too. Plus, we'd have to buy a second set of diapers to have on hand for changes at childcare. They don't mind if we send her in the morning clad in cloth, but she'll be coming home in disposables.

That last hurdle means that our potential uses per cloth diaper go down, down, down - way down. Even though our daughter will only be in care 3 days/week - about 20 hours - that's still a lot of diaper changes that we won't be doing.

And here's one last consideration: I'm terrible with my hands. You wouldn't know it to see me type, but that's the only place where I have anything that resembles manual dexterity. The rest of the time, I'm a mess - fiddly, clumsy, sloppy. All this argues for using the sized cloth diapers, which are basically just like disposables except, well, not. But that cuts down on the odds that our cloth diapers would ever be a good financial investment.

My husband worries that we're taking on too much to cloth diaper - he remembers the early daze of having a newborn at home. And while we're better positioned this time - less clueless about infant care, closer to family, supportive neighbors at the ready, I'm not working outside the home, he was four weeks' paid paternity leave - it's still gonna be a slog.

He also points out that successfully breastfeeding and making our own baby food, coupled with using greener disposables, would be a big improvement on our last go-round as time-stressed, crazed and clueless rookie 'rents.

Still, we could afford $200 for diapers. If we don't break even, it's not the end of the world - we'll have kept garbage out of the landfills, and that's consistent with other choices we've made, where we accept greater expense in the name of the greater good.

And so it really comes down to this: when the only benefit that I can identify is the Green Factor, making the choice becomes so much harder than when it's Green, Frugal and Simple.

Top Ten Eco-Sins

2008-07-30T11:42:00.000-07:00

Yeah, I crow about our petite carbon footprint. But I also worry about the times that we fall short.

Let me count the ways:

10. We still use plastic baggies for lunch. Okay, we're using them very sparingly - one a day for my son's sandwich, and sometimes for the odd novelty that doesn't fit into a container. I'd happily trade the baggie for a plastic sandwich trapper, but a) Freddie eats his turkey'n'American on a whole grain mini bagel, and they fit awkwardly into the containers; b) Freddie's beloved Stripey the Tiger lunchbox has an unusual shape that won't accommodate another plastic container. When we upsize the carry-all, we'll find a suitable reusable substitute, too.

9. We have only greened a fraction of our Health and Beauty products. In fairness, I stockpile this stuff so far in advance that I routinely have a six months' supply on hand. But I haven't stopped accumulating, either. I'll admit it: I like to bargain hunt. I like Pantene. They put coupons in the paper, and then my local Target puts it on sale and I am attracted, like a moth to the less-than-environmentally safe flame. It doesn't help that green alternatives are pricey, and it could take many bottles of experimentation before I land on one that works.

8. I am addicted to Coca-Cola. Yes, I know. It has no nutritionally redeeming value, and even the diet version does bad things to your system. I've been cutting down, and buying 2-liters instead of full strength. But it's an un-green weakness of mine.

7. We don't compost. More on this in a future post, as I'm still considering taking this on.

6. I use those disposable scrubby head toilet cleaners. Yeah, they're wasteful. But I never know where to store my toilet brush. So along with my Simple Green and Method Shower Scrub and Seventh Generation multi-purpose cleaner, I've got these little Clorox jobbies.

5. I buy 100-calorie packs. Possibly the decade's greatest contribution to over-packaging, second only to the Lunchable, I'm still a sucker because a) I have little willpower when it comes to an open bag of cookies; b) it allows us to keep a wider variety of snacks on hand and know that they'll be fresh when we open them, which is infrequently.

4. I'm having our closets customized. A true eco-chic warrior would repurpose some fabulous containers and completely kit out their closets without much expense or negative environmental impact. Me? I'm not that handy. So out go the wire shelves and in come the custom-cut units. I tell myself it's something more durable than furniture and thus a good long-term investment.

3. J'adore television. And no, not just the History Channel and A&E. Trash television.

2. I bribe my child with Matchbox cars. The packaging crazes me. I worry that they've been made by prisoners in horrible working conditions in Chinese factories with no environmental standards. And lead paint. But it's still just $1 - the cheapest incentive ever for potty training and other desirable behaviors.

1. We eat red meat. Don't get me wrong - we don't eat much, and we don't eat it often. But I'm just not ready to give up my weekly cheeseburger indulgence. It's not anything against veggie burgers, as much as it is the occasional longing for a good ol' fashioned burger and fries.

So there you have it ... my ten most grievous sins against Mother Earth. Here's hoping the good stuff that we do outweighs our shortcomings.

Green Shoes, As Green as They Come

2008-07-29T07:09:00.000-07:00

I need shoes.

No, really. This is not a mad shopping urge. This is a case of going barefoot if I don't find some shoes. I've worn my two pairs of flip flops nearly paper-thin, and thanks to my advancing pregnancy, can no longer bend over to tie my Converse All Stars or old pair of Saucony running shoes.

So off we went to REI, where I snapped up the following: Simple Macaroons in certified suede, color green eyes.

The company strives to be 100% sustainable. They readily admit that they're not there yet, but it's a noble goal. They maintain guidelines for creating an ethical supply chain, related not only to the materials in their products, but the conditions in which they are created. And much of the stuff of my new shoes isn't - it's recycled plastic or car tires or what-have-you.

We've also been buying Keen sandals for our son, attracted again by their sound environmental practices. And the fact that the shoes are incredibly durable and practical - he's about to outgrow them, and there are years of life remaining. Compared to his previous pairs of summer sandals, that's a miracle.

Not buying is, by far, the greenest of choices. And buying second-hand is great, when it's possible. But the odds of me landing on a pair of secondhand sneakers in my size isn't high, and the chances that I can take my toddler thrift-shopping enough times to find a pair for him? Forget it.

For now, I'm sporting the greenest green shoes I've ever wore, and treading lightly on the Earth as I do so.

When Green Leaves You Blue

2008-07-29T07:03:00.000-07:00

I'm suffering from another disappointment, green-cleaning-wise.

Seventh Generation bleach works. Sort of. Reasonably decently well.

But not nearly as well as Clorox.

And so it's one of those decision moments: accept dingier whites, or dirty up the Earth?

There do appear to be a few other eco-safe bleach substitutes on the market. And, in all honesty, I'm calling on the product to bleach my husband's well-worn undershirt collection. The average age of a shirt is more than five years, and some are closer to seven - so it's little wonder that they're showing their years.

Maybe it's time to go even more old school and figure out what predated bleach for whitening whites, and hope that my fledgling homemaker skills are up to wielding such primitive tools as lemons and vinegar.

Sourcing Greener Products

2008-07-24T18:07:00.000-07:00

Here's a hiccup on the path to shopping greener: I now have to visit at least six different stores to round up greener consumables.

It could be worse. At the moment, I can buy the following at my local Target, which is about a mile away by foot:

Burt's Bees body wash and Baby Bee products
Weleda lotions
Palmolive Eco+ phosphate free dishwashing detergent (we used to use Seventh Generation, but Target no longer carries it - and I must say that Palmolive works better.)
Method cleaning products, hand soap, bamboo-based cleaning wipes
Microfiber cloths, sponges
Glad 65% recycled plastic kitchen garbage bags
Arm & Hammer Essentials 2X concentrated laundry detergent; I also sometimes buy All Small & Mighty because the smaller bottles are easier to tote home.
Seventh Generation dishwashing liquid - which smells absolutely divine and works well, too

But alas, Target sells no green paper! But we can find the following at our Giant grocery store, at a bargain price:

Seventh Generation toilet paper

For a few things, we have to venture to Whole Foods, including:

Seventh Generation bleach (fortunately, it's not something I have to buy regularly)
Seventh Generation tissues (we can buy Kleenex 20% recycled at our Giant, but that's just not good enough)
365 napkins

Even those three stores don't cover all of our basic needs, however. I also need to go to:

Office Depot, for recycled garbage bags. We could get these at Whole Foods, but I can actually walk to Office Depot. And honestly, we use them so sparingly that our box of 100 will probably last for years.
Babies R Us, for Seventh Generation diapers. Again, Whole Foods sells them, but WF is about twice as far away. So if all we're going out to get is diapers, it makes more sense to go to BRU.
Lowe's for Marcal Sunrise paper towels. We could get other products elsewhere, but these are actually pick-a-size - to me, this is an absolutely essential feature in a paper towel, as we rarely only use a tiny piece.

It's even tougher to find organic fabric clothing, linens and the like. When we bought a new doormat, I had to order it from www.yardiac.com - but I must say, it's the perfect thing.

Still, plenty of these products were completely un-findable when we lived in a smaller city just a few years ago, so I suppose I'm not complaining, as much as I'm offering retailers a guide for how to get my business - stock more green!

I Squandered Your Carbon Footprint

2008-07-24T09:56:00.001-07:00

"I squandered your carbon footprint yesterday," my neighbor told me. "I drove to work."

My neighbor is actually a fairly green guy, from what I've observed. He buys second-hand, takes mass transit to work most days and has traveled the globe extensively. If his kids have new toys, it's because he's been to the Salvation Army or Craig's List. While I'm quite certain he doesn't obsess about all things environmental the way Franklin and I do, he's not Part of the Problem.

What he is, however, is a father of three boys who often finds himself struggling with the reality that it takes him about twice as long to commute via mass transit as it does in his car. And some days, it's just not an option to lose those minutes, especially considering that his two under-fives are in bed by eight.

My husband's job takes him downtown, an area easily accessible by mass transit and so congested that it would take longer to drive. While no one loves to walk in a downpour, heatwave or cold snap, most of the time, there's little downside to making the greener choice.

As I look at jobs outside the home, something I very much hope to have shortly after Fiona's arrival, I wonder: how will I possibly go about finding something that doesn't require me to commute in a car? And am I being responsible to actually consider that a deal-breaker in a potential job?

When our employers leave center city and investment in mass transit fails to keep up with rapidly evolving needs, it's impractical to ask families to make these sacrifices on a regular basis.

I don't mind reducing my carbon footprint so my neighbor can actually tuck his sons into bed at night. I get that. But I do fret that there are hundreds, maybe thousands of decent people out there, who really would be willing to switch to more sustainable forms of transportation, if only it didn't translate to such a direct sacrifice of family time. We live in a city well-served by mass transit, but it's still daunting to make it truly functional for the majority of our residents, event those willing to give it a whirl.

This is a problem.

How We've Gone Green

2008-07-24T09:05:00.001-07:00

The Greene Family made like our name starting about a year ago, when we settled into our new home in Metro DC. Here's what we done in the past twelve months:

Parked our car. Franklin takes the bus and/or metro to and from work. I walk Freddie to and from his nursery school. We also walk to the coffee shop, Target, bookstore, the local restaurant where we eat out on Friday nights, the movie theater, parks, the grocery store, drugstore, farmer's market and post office. We do still drive for some things, including groceries, but we're averaging about 25 miles/week in our car - and far, far more on our feet.
Cleaned up our act. We've steadily been switching to greener cleaning products and microfiber cloths/rags to keep our house spic and span. They work just as well as conventional products, and we feel much better about them. We recently cleaned up one of Freddie's big ol' apple juice spills without reaching for a paper towel - and it didn't even cross my mind that we'd done so until after the mess was mopped.
Became EnergyStars. Because we were moving into a new house, we had the chance to choose our appliances - and there's an Energy Star label on every one of them. We've also been slowly switching to green lightbulbs, but because we're careful about energy use in general, it's amazing how few bulbs we've burned through in a year. Lastly, we installed ceiling fans throughout our home. This means that even in the humid, sticky summer of Washington DC, we're keeping our air conditioning set at a toasty 80 degrees without actually feeling uncomfortable.
Gave up fast food in favor of home cooking. While we were inspired more by health concerns than environmental impact, it quickly became obvious that we were meeting two goals with this change. It's also one of those funny snowball effect things - if you're in your car, it is so easy to pull through the drive-thru. But if you're on the Metro, you have to ask yourself: is there anything between my stop and home? Do I really want to carry a large pepperoni pizza/a dozen tacos/a sack of burgers and fries through the neighborhood? We're skinnier, healthier and contributing far less garbage. We now eat out once a week, at the local place down the street, plus special occasions - which actually feel special as a result.
Recycled, recycled, recycled. The cardboard boxes we used for moving all went to our town's cardboard receptacle in the local park. We discovered that we could take any kind of cardboard there, including cereal boxes and paper towel tubes. So we do. We've also become vigilant about recycling our glass, plastics and paper and have figured out how to recycle small electronics and other things, like batteries. (We take those to Ikea.)
Switched to reusable cloth shopping bags, refillable coffee cups and reusable containers for our packed lunches. They're the little things that add up. What's interesting is that in some cases - especially the cloth shopping bags - the reusable versions are far superior to the disposable ones.
Greened our paper monster. While we're generally using less, thanks to rags and cleaning cloths, the paper towels, napkins, toilet paper and tissues that we use are almost all 100% recycled content. It takes some doing, however, especially considering our not-driving stance. We can only buy toilet paper locally, so we're constantly remembering to stock up on the other items during our trips farther afield.

There's more to do, we've no doubt. But I'm content with our progress, and I love knowing that our choices are making a positive impact on our lives, and the world we're leaving for Freddie and Fiona.

All Wet

2008-07-23T10:29:00.000-07:00

So most of our towels are pretty disreputable. I'm okay with that. Or I've been okay with that for years. But some are so threadbare that they don't quite get the job done, and I've been slowly converting them from towels-for-people to rags-for-scrubbing.

Except that we will soon be down to our last few reasonable towels, and we'll need reinforcements.

Here are my options:

Buy the greenest towels available. These are available online, and would most likely be a bamboo/organic cotton blend. So far, www.shirtsofbamboo.com seems to get the best reviews for service and product. They're in Florida - not horribly far, but far enough that I can't help but wonder: how much does shipping my green purchase via UPS cancel out the benefits?
Buy a reasonably green alternative that I can pick up via Metro. Bed, Bath and Beyond is a mere three stops down the road from our house, and they sell both organic cotton and bamboo alternatives. Sure, they've been shipped to the store - but the damage is already done, right?

There are no bamboo/organic cotton alternatives available at my local Target or Macy's, so walking to pick them up isn't an option.

And, of course, I can't help but wonder if bamboo is really as super-green as we think it is. It's shipped from China, and as I understand it, there's no standard of sustainability in place. So while we know it grows faster and requires less pesticides and generally has a greener impact on the planet, we're not entirely certain how green is green. Would I be better off with organic cotton that's grown, we assume, in the good ol' US of A?

It's one of those situations where I'm probably going to buy the potentially less green product locally on the theory that:

I'm not creating any additional pollution or packaging to ship the product to our address.
I can actually see and touch the products, which will make me feel far more confident in the purchase.
Hopefully I'm sending the signal that I'd like area stores to stock more eco-friendly alternatives in general.

I'm planning to test drive a towel before beginning the process of upgrading our household collection, so I'll report back here on how it fares. Of course, given the competition in the house, it's easy to see that any thing will be an improvement.

Are Consumers Done?

2008-07-22T18:22:00.000-07:00

I'm morbidly fascinated with the financial mess in the headlines these days, even though we are, for the moment, blessedly avoiding the worst of the downturn. It could change, of course, and so I'm part reading-the-tea-leaves, part rubbernecking.

But here's a factoid that threw me for a loop: 70% of our economy is based on consumer spending, consumer spending on things like dinners out, new televisions and fancy sneakers.

It's a set of habits that has landed many families in the red, but from my perspective, it's also pretty dramatically un-green.

When my husband and I settled down in our new home after nearly a year's transition involving four addresses in three states, we evaluated all the stuff we had and realized we didn't need any more. It's been well over a year since my husband bought shoes, shirts or pants, including work clothing. Because I lost more than 40 pounds, I have bought clothing, but a fairly modest amount - a pair of size 12 jeans, then size 10, then size 8 and finally a second pair of size 8 cords and a pair of size 6 cords before becoming pregnant and turning my old clothes into maternity wear.

Since moving in, we've also purchased two sets of sheets and a full size mattress/box spring to serve as our guest bed, plus two new hand towels for our "good" powder room, and a new comforter cover for our son. Every over stitch of linen in our home is at least a year old, and much of it dates back more than a decade. Our spare comforter is from my husband's freshman year in college. And yes, we've bought furniture (a desk, Freddie's big boy bed and shelves, a bench for our entry way with wall-mounted shelves above.) We have three TVs, two of which are more than a dozen years old and one of which is a mammoth, early HDTV older than our child - the only real gadget my husband has indulged in, ever.

Honestly - I don't get it. I walk through Target, looking for a container for trail mix or a microfiber dust cloth and see women pushing trolleys spilling over with stuff - blankets and blenders and vases and toys. Did they need this stuff? Could they afford this stuff? Where were they putting all of this stuff?

Calling for people to stop buying stuff they don't need makes all the sense in the world - it's frugal, in a world with precious little of the saving impulse, and it's green, in a world that is quickly squandering every resource.

But does being green bring the economy to a crashing halt, and if so, what's the answer? And is anyone looking for it, or are our leaders just worried about how to get us back into Target, loading up our carts to spill over and put the economy back in black?

It's a colorful question, and I'm afraid the answer is not one that I'll like.

Aucuns Detrius

2008-07-22T11:01:00.000-07:00

My toddler, Freddie, makes his way to nursery school three days a week, lunch kit in hand. When he first set off for the neighborhood school last fall, I found myself wondering how to green his lunchbox - and thinking long and hard about whether our changes would make my mornings unbearable.

As it turns out, we made three changes that virtually any parent can follow. If they take a little more time in some ways, they save time and effort in others. Best of all, they hit not one, but two of my principles - Do it Greener, Do it Cheaper. (More on that in a later post.)

For now, here are our three changes:

We use refillable plastic juice boxes instead of buying the ones at the store. It's less packaging, which is always a win, but this one is especially green-worthy because it's tough to recycle juice boxes - or any container that incorporates plastic, cardboard and aluminum. In fact, our son's school automatically disposes of them, while they happily return the plastic containers.
We use refillable containers for apple sauce, mandarin oranges, raisins, etc. instead of using the single serving sizes. Again, this cuts down on packaging and avoids the issue of whether the very busy nursery school teachers are remembering to rinse and separate each of the little plastic dishes and check the numbers stamped on the bottom.
We aim to make most of our son's lunch minimally processed foods. Kids might love Lunchables, but they're among the most overpackaged products in the market. On the other hand, bananas, grapes and carrot sticks require no additional packaging beyond the reusable bowls.

While it does take a few minutes to fill up those containers each morning, the plus is that the containers are permanently labeled - I never have to fish for a Sharpie or a sticker. For me, the time required to select and label is about equal to the amount of time required to fill. And yes, they do have to be brought home and washed - but even my forgetful Freddie hasn't (permanently) lost a dish yet. As long as you remember to tuck them in the dishwasher every night, it's a fairly fuss-free process.

As for the savings? I'll admit, we're not talking thousands of dollars. But here's a quick breakdown:

Refilling your own juice box versus buying the pre-packaged ones saves about 7 cents per drink. Assuming you spend $1.5o on the reusable juice box, it takes about 20 uses - or one month - before you see the savings.
Putting raisins in a reusable container versus buying individual boxes saves about 5 cents per serving. If you spend $1 on the container, again, it takes about a month to make it back.
Apple sauce, mandarin oranges, peaches and the like are the real cost-savers. Filling your own apple sauce container saves about 12 cents per serving; fruit is closer to 30 cents per serving. You'll recover those costs in two weeks or less.

If you're packing 180 lunches each year, and assume an average savings of 33 cents per lunch, that's nearly $60/year saved, per kid! Because our son eats all of these school-day staples on the weekends and evenings, too, it's easy to guesstimate that our savings our closer to twice that amount.

So it's green, it's frugal and it's relatively effortless - something to think about as you hit your local store for back-to-school gear.

Adventures in Eco-Savvy

2008-07-21T14:00:00.000-07:00

A few years back, a friend of mine mused, "I'd cut down our family's carbon footprint, if only I could find the time."

We were discussing our mutual decision to go back to our demanding careers shortly after giving birth to our first children. I'll admit - I didn't get it. What did free time have to do with our carbon footprints? Was there really any choice in how we consumed? Wasn't this just the life we'd signed on for?

With the passing of time - and my transition to being, despite all plans to the contrary, a stay-at-home mom - I had my eureka moment. My husband and I have taken steps in the past year to become significantly more eco-savvy. Even in the midst of this crazy, madcap, time-stretched modern existence, it can be done. And once the ball starts rolling, it's easy to keep on going, getting greener and greener and greener.

If we keep this up, instead of Mrs. Fern Greene, I guess I'll have to be known as Mrs. Emerald Kale.