Holy Crap! We have a lot of crap.

There's nothing like a move to drag your guise of simplification into the harsh light of day.

After nearly 2 years in Raleigh, Les and I moved back to Illinois last week. It was a bittersweet departure. We made so many incredible friends, and we fell in love with Raleigh in just 18 months. We will miss the Southland and all of our friends (especially in the winter), but we're excited for Les to start his new job as a full time professor.

We were sad to leave, but do you know what really sucks about moving? MOVING.

MOVING SUCKS.

Packing up all of our earthly belongings really made me stressed out about the number of our possessions and the lengths we are willing to go to move them from place to place.

Not only did we pay to acquire them in the first place, but we then have to pay to transport them from home to home. And let me tell you, moving ain't cheap! We very seriously discussed the idea of chucking almost everything (via donation), saving the couple of thousand dollars in moving expenses, and starting over with a clean slate and a commitment to only allow truly useful and beautiful things into our new home.

But we didn't do that. It seemed wasteful/impractical and ultimately pretty expensive. Won't we need socks and bottle openers and bowls in our new home? Didn't people we love just buy us most of the contents of this kitchen for our wedding? Didn't we carefully select this stuff when we bought it? (Most of it, anyway?)

So we didn't go with the Chuck it and Start Fresh plan, but I was still determined to pare down my stuff. I signed up for the Becoming Minimalist blog and started pinning tips on de-cluttering and purging. And to really seal the deal, I convinced Les that we would only take as much as could fit into 2 U-Boxes and our car trunks. That's actually not a lot of space for a 2 bedroom apartment that is insulated primarily by hardcover philosophy tomes.

We did manage to donate or discard a lot of things. I completed a massive Dresser Drawer Purge that was incredibly gratifying. Look at how easily these drawers close now! Look how neatly the remaining t-shirts are stacked!

Stuff I Did Not Move

So I got rid of an embarrassing mound of stretched out coffee-stained t-shirts. A good start, but more like a ding than a substantial dent in the Crap.

As the packing extravaganza finally wore down, we started cramming things randomly into boxes. Les and I started saying things like "If it makes it to Illinois in one piece, then great, and if not, then who cares...". If we don't care whether that particular photo frame or pie plate survives, then why oh why do we own it? And why are we moving it? We're strange, stuff-owning creatures, though. I do hope that those things all survive their long journey back to us. But ultimately they are just things, and I will (try) not (to) cry over their untimely demise if the time comes.

Now that we're here and our U-boxes are on the way, I do wish we had purged some more. I'm thinking I will keep thinning and thinning my clothing stash as we set up home in a new place with limited storage. My plan is to immediately dismiss anything we do not actually need or use or love in our new home. Give each item some sort of probation status for each season and then coldly kick it to the curb if it is not pulling its Beauty or Usefulness weight. If we had had time to do that before we packed two moving crates Tetris-style, that would have been even better. Now, we get to deal with the unpacking and post-move purging on the Illinois side.

But I do love a challenge! New home, new space, new opportunities for conscientious consumption and thoughtful simplificiation.

Oh, and since I am currently unemployed, more blogging. And hopefully a photography class to improve everyone's blog-reading experience.

Gratitude Lessons

It's November, so that means I'm happily jumping on the 30 Days of Thanks on Facebook. The very simple premise is that you post one thing each day for which you are thankful. I love it. I LOVE IT. I love to read other people's posts. I love to be able to scroll through my page and others' pages at the end of the month and read a list of blessings and God's provision and common grace.

It is one thing to have a month of thankful Facebook posts, and quite another to cultivate a heart of gratitude. I've been working on that one for a while now.

Take this beautiful white KitchenAid stand mixer, for example.

When I was in my early and mid-twenties, I had some SERIOUS envy issues. Why? Because every summer I found myself shelling out money I did not have to purchase things for my friends' weddings that I wanted myself, and I despaired of ever having matching plates that did not come from a thrift store, or ceramic nesting mixing bowls to sit cheerily on the counter instead of ugly plastic ones. But the Mother Of All Covetousness was the elusive, expensive, Bridal-Registry-Golden-Ticket, the KitchenAid Stand Mixer.

I watched friend after friend tear into the big heavy box at the wedding shower, after being reminded that "this one is too heavy for your lap, why don't you come over to the gift table and open in!" winkwinknudgenudge. And there before our eyes, the glowing bride would unveil a beautiful KitchenAid, often in a dazzling bright color to match the thoughtful "accent colors of her kitchen". You know, a mixer painted to match the colors of all her new dish towels and spatulas.

And every time this happened, my heart clenched up a bit. Not only was I NOT GETTING MARRIED, I was also never going to get a stand mixer. Because they are like $300 and I certainly did not have that kind of money. And neither did my mom, should she ever be inclined to buy me such a gift.

Let's get to the specifics, here. I wanted a fire-engine red Kitchen Aid mixer. I had this dream of a red and white kitchen, primarily because I had scored a cute little red Kitchen Aid mini-food chopper on clearance at Kohls one day, so now naturally I needed the Stand Mixer to be red. Because obviously now I was going to have a red-and-white kitchen filled with Fancy, Matching Kitchen Stuff someday. This red kitchen dream grew and grew. I started trying to figure out a way to sock away some cash for a mixer. I asked my mom to be on the lookout for sales at department stores. I asked for money for my birthday for the Mixer Fund.

And then something incredible happened.

I sat in my mother's house on Christmas morning, geared up for a very modest Christmas gift giving season. We were all scraping that year. I was hoping for an envelope with a little boost to my Fund. But then as my siblings start unwrapping their gifts, I hear my dear mom say "Jill, your gift is too heavy for your lap, why don't you come over here and open it right under the tree!". I could hear the glint of glee in her voice. I trembled. I walked over to the tree and saw the big rectangular box wrapped in plain paper. And I tore into it to discover!!!!!!!......... A white Kitchen Aid standmixer.

Has there ever been a more ungrateful, undeserving, horrible daughter in the history of daughters? I didn't see a KitchenAid. I didn't see the object of years of envy. I saw the wrong color. My eyes gave me away.

"What's wrong? You've wanted that for SO long!"

"I love it mom. I do. I was saving up for the red one, though."

"Well, I'm sorry, honey, but that was the only one I could afford. The Marshall Fields is going out of business, you know, so they had really big sales back in October. I bought this one as an open box for less than half the price it would usually be. I couldn't have afforded it otherwise. It's your Christmas and birthday present. I'm sorry it's not the color you wanted. It can't be returned."

Have you ever hated me more than you hate me right now? I hate me right now. I hate even recounting that story. I hate the ungrateful freak that I was then. I hate that there was even ONE Christmas that I made my mom feel sad about a gift that she had worked and scrimped to give to me (Unfortunately, there is at least one other story like this, but cut my some slack - I was 8 then). I wish I could get EVERY Christmas with my awesome mom back. I would trade every KitchenAid in the world for more Christmases with my mom. And I whined because I didn't get the red one.

And you know what else?

Sitting here about 8 years later, I have a white-on-white kitchen and I love it. I love my white mixer. It doesn't sit on the counter and scream APPLIANCE! It blends in with the white. It sits demurely waiting for me to bake something or whip up some cream. And I think of my mom every time I see it. She didn't even have one of these in her own kitchen. Maybe she even wished that she had had one. But she searched high and low to get one for me one year, and now I hug the mixer sometimes and thank it for its years of dutiful service.

I did kind of make up for my terrible showing that Christmas morning, and call my mom just about every time I used the mixer from that day forward and thank her for it, and apologize for being a brat. She must have heard me say "I'm actually SO glad I have a white one!" at least 50 times. So hopefully that helped. But that whole rotten display of Stuff Over People continues to convict me about my heart and getting "my heart set" on things. I never ever EVER want to do that again.

What about you? Have you ever let a thing mess with your brain and heart? Do you wish you could go back in time and Scream for Joy over a white stand mixer?

Stress'll Do That To Ya

So we finally moved into our new apartment on Monday. Hooray! Les has been working diligently during the day on the sea of boxes, and I stay up late every night after work to keep unpacking and unpacking and unpacking and....

Whoa. I thought we had a lot of stuff when we PACKED. Unpacking has made this overabundance of stuff even more painfully painful.

And you know how I've been handling this 2 moves in 3 months + new job + new city + health issues + missing my friends?

I've been eating like crap, biting my nails, going to Target twice a week and coming home with MORE STUFF (seriously, What?), and reverting seamlessly back into soda drinking, paper-towel-using, disposable junk buying freakishness.

It's like all of my filters are cluttered with crud, and I can't quite think straight. I contemplate whether or not to run to Starbucks for a latte, even though I've already been twice this week and I don't really need any coffee. And I don't have a lot of extra cash to be throwing around. And I say to myself "yes. I need a latte" and I go. IN MY CAR! Because you have to drive everywhere here.

The only thing keeping me from teetering on the verge of a self-loathing melt down is to remember that I'm legitimately stressed out. And that self-soothing strategies kick in when we're wigging.

I remind myself that I have grand Green plans for this new place. That Les and I have already discussed action steps to use as little water as possible (you have to pay for water here! and it's expensive!), plant an organic garden, and purge purge purge anything that does not pass the "Useful/Lovely" test (see below).

There was one big box looming on the floor last night, and neither of us could remember what was inside. It was marked "HEAVY/FRAGILE". I finally grabbed the scissors and tore into it, scooping out the packing shreds and wrapping and taped protections. Several pieces didn't need to be unwrapped, because they were in bits at the bottom of the box. Completely destroyed. Two of those smashed things were actually quite dear to me. One was a very delicate antique china tea cup with tiny roses sprinkled around it's thin body. It had been in my mom's cabinet, all alone and without a set or saucer. I loved it. It had been wrapped fastidiously, but set too close to bigger, heavier things. It was smashed to smithereens, mom would say. The other obliterated item that nearly brought me to tears has also been very carefully wrapped and set inside a box and wrapped and set inside another box. I don't understand how this one smashed, but there it was, in splinters in its container. My brother in law had made me this ridiculously awesome octopus sculpture that he somehow fashioned with its tentacles wrapped realistically around a spherical glass candle holder. Honestly, it was one of the coolest things anyone has ever given me. And I loved it. It was going to be the centerpiece of our new bathroom's decor. And all that is left of it now is a pile of broken octopus arms and shards of glass.

Several candle glasses, jars, and flower pots were also reduced to rubble in the move. I had to keep reminding myself that it is just stuff. Just stuff. It is not my treasure, or my comfort.

But that mantra combined with my already anxious state made me inclined to roll our garbage dumpster up to the back door and just start throwing EVERYTHING out. To hold each and every item as it came out of the box and give it this test:

1. Is it beautiful?
2. Is it useful?
3. Would I miss it within 1 year?

I might actually do this. Room by room. I'll let you know. We have a boat-load of stuff that I do not think could possibly pass. My heart twisted up in sadness when I saw those things had been ruined. But honestly, I didn't lose any sleep. I bet dozens of other things (hundreds?) could meet the same fate without any lasting impact on my life. There are only a few things that I would truly grieve. Maybe that will be my next post. I'll make my "What would you grab if your house was on fire" list. Could help force this purge plan into focus, yes?

Why didn't we do this purge before we spent almost $3K to move a big truck full of stuff across the country?

Lessons learned.

The Best (and Worst) of 2011 Part 1

My Favorite Purchases of 2011This was the first year I really tried to get a lasso around my spending impulses. It was tough, but I can say confidently that I learned from experience in 2011 that More Stuff Does Not Equal More Happy. It's not like I went on a permanent spending fast. Trust me, I spent plenty of money in 2011. But No-Buy July went pretty well, and I have talked myself out of dozens (maybe hundreds) of purchases this year. By putting the kibosh on some of my most long-standing chemical dependencies (commercial face-wash, hair dye, fancy makeup, perfume, chi-chi body wash), my feet darkened the door of my arch-nemesis (Target) far less often in 2011. Staying out of Target greatly reduces my tendency towards impulse-purchasing.
But I did buy some great stuff in 2011. Here were my faves:

Burt's Bees Tinted Lip Balm.
Love. It. I love everything about it. It's a lovely sheer shade that makes your lips look like a better, rosier version of their natural pink. It is actually quite moisturizing, too, as opposed to some of the BB line that is a bit drier and less smooth that this version. Plus, it's 100% Natural AND it's made right down the road in Durham. Yay!

My Nikon D5100
I'm still learning how to use it, and it was by far the spendiest thing I bought in 2011, but I have grown to love it. Really, if you are only going to make a few big purchases, it's best to make sure it is something you love.

I went back to using bareMinerals makeup after several years of liquid foundation. It's not the #1 most greenest-like-ever makeup brand, but one shaker lasts me a good 4 months, so factor in the longevity and I think it does pretty well. It rates pretty well on the Skin Deep site as well. Not awesome, but a solid good choice. And it works for me, so I don't have to keep trying and then discarding other failed attempts.

To-Go-Ware reusable bamboo utensil set
Yes, I am one of those intolerable people who brings her own utensils to restaurants. And after many solo lunches to get my courage up, I will now even use them when I go out with friends if disposable stuff is the only option. I keep them in my purse, so the other bonus is that I am never without a spoon in case I find myself in a "I wish I could eat that Ben and Jerry's right here in the grocery store parking lot" emergency. That alone should inspire you to go get some of these.

I'm sure there are other cool things that I bought this year, but those are my favorite.

And here's a quick list of my LEAST favorite ill-fated purchases to serve as a cautionary tale:

• Physicians Formula "eco" mascara - smears, greenwashing, ugly packaging
• Natural Toothpaste - I've tried several, and they all either have SLS in them and/or taste like semi-liquid chalk. If you have any suggestions, please send them my way!
• Natural deodorant - I didn't find one this year that would work for me, an office drone, for whom pit stains and constant, distracting dampness and vague odor are a workplace liability.

So there you have Part 1 of the Best and Worst! I'll work on the other installments during upcoming lunch breaks. Did you have a great new purchase in 2011? Tell me about it!

September Challenge - Balance and Grace

I had been really excited about the September goal I had planned, mainly because it involved shopping. Even though I haven't had a "back to school" excuse for about 11 years now, glimmers of fall weather still make me want to throw out everything in my closet and start fresh with tweed and tights. And since I actually did come into some unexpected cash thanks to a random gift from my mother-in-law, I thought it could be fun to challenge myself to re-invent "my look" with the greenest options for my budget. Kind of a "Get the Look for Less [Impact]" challenge.

Oh, what fun that would be!

Except.

I can't get into the buying spirit. Haunted by the famine in Somalia, an invite to a benefit dinner for and NGO that works with victims of human trafficking, pictures online of the families in the path of the Carolina storms that watched their houses wash into the surf. I had an existential meltdown on Friday, tried to tack together some calm and balance with a heavy pinch of rationalization and then tried to go shopping Monday. It didn't really work out.

In an almost humorous fashion, my purchasing attempts were thwarted at nearly every turn. As in suddenly there are no cashiers anywhere to be found and all the customers are milling around baffled and annoyed, so I put down my would-be purchases and leave. Or putting a skirt on hold at the first store I visit, walking around for a few more hours, deciding to return to buy it only to find the store had closed early for some reason. Or the Whole Foods-ish store that had EVERY kind of natural makeup I could have wanted, except, you know, the one I wanted. Left again. Got more and more discouraged. Sigh. (In the interest of full disclosure, I did eventually buy 2 things before heading home. And they were not at all green. I like them, but I'm a little disappointed with myself. Hello, emotional buying.)

This Overwhelming Ugh doesn't feel like guilt, really. Because guilt can often be assuaged with a donation here or there. It's like a punch in the stomach. And an ache in my heart. Reflecting on what a freakin' privilege it is to choose an organic wool jacket or some made-from-scratch eye shadow. To choose anything, really. To have a bank account. With money in it. The illusion of safety, the trappings of comfort.

Green with Grace. Grace grace grace grace grace.

Blogfriends, do you think there is a way to balance this? I couldn't shake the idea that maybe the unexpected cash was meant to pad a donation, or buy something for someone who needs it. Can I go half-sies? Sort of a "One for you, One for me" strategy? How do you decide when you "need" something? As in work clothes that allow you to dress your age and your current actual size?

How do you have grace with yourself, while acting boldly and counter-culturally in a world so jam packed with injustice?

Les and I had a pow-wow about all this stuff and he (God bless him) was a total rock star about everything. Of course we want our family to have our eyes on the right prize. And the prize is definitely not "more stuff". Here's what he and I came up with so far after my sob-fest. I'm not listing this to show off how holy and awesome we are. We're totally totally not. You've been reading long enough to know that maybe 22% of my ambitions actually come to any kind of fruition. But maybe by writing them I will be more accountable to actually do them:

1. Invite our friends to an in-person and virtual Letter Writing Party to urge our leaders to make the famine in Somalia and the refugee crisis a priority. Spread the word in FaceBook. Talk to our pastors about addressing it in church.
2. Research some effective non-profits and make a donation.
3. Pray for the people (mostly mothers and children!) who are literally LITERALLY starving to death. Especially whenever we give thanks for our food. Maybe even fast sometimes to do this.
4. Attend the benefit dinner and learn more about human trafficking, and how we can help.
5. Live joyfully, thankfully, and mindfully. Keep thinking of ways to be bold about the stuff that breaks our hearts.

Ok. well, that's a start at least. So my shopping challenge has morphed into a challenge of Balance and Grace. Sorry to be a bit bleak, but, you know, this is where I am this month. I'm sure I'll buy stuff too, but all purchases are going to have to pass a whole checklist of scrutiny before it makes it into my house from now on. That's the plan, anyway. Oh, the best laid plans.

The Sock Bottle Gets and Upgrade, and Finally Goes to Starbucks

I made this brown felt Mug Snuggie (Smuggie? Did I just invent something?) for my infamous Bottle in a Sock so that Les would not cringe every time I decided to take my sock bottle out on the town with me.

Just kidding. That's a total lie.

I made the Smuggie for me. I had no problem filling up the Bottle in a Sock coffee mug with organic, fair trade java and some soy milk (and sugar, and dark chocolate syrup) at home and taking it out for a drive or a walk. But every time I thought about taking it to Starbucks for my weekly (twice weekly?)Guilty Pleasure Latte, I would get up to the counter and freeze. I Just. Couldn't. Do. It. I couldn't bring myself to hand my sock bottle over the counter to the hipper-than-thou barista. I couldn't bear the thought of the suited up Loopers behind me in line cocking their eyebrows at my makeshift to-go mug. The same way I sigh and shake my head when the lady in front of me orders a Nonfat One Splenda No Whip Decaf Coffee Caramel Frappucino. (That actually happened. 15 minutes ago.).

But today, the Smuggied Bottle made it out of my bag and over the counter. Hooray! One small step for repurposing posers like me, one giant leap for my Starbucks disposables waste reduction. And guess what? I got not one, but TWO complements on my "cute" coffee bottle. Yeah, the barista who was actually making my nonfat latte had some trouble getting the steamed milk into the bottle in an orderly fashion, but he smiled and said "no problem!". Like any properly indoctrinated baristas would do. I explained to him that it was my first try with the new coffee bottle. And he just handed me my bottle and said "Enjoy!".

And I am. Enjoying my very FIRST waste-free Starbucks Latte.

Finally. Only 4 months in the making.

If you were going to toss it anyway...

Some cool re-purposing ideas from people much craftier than I on Re-Nest:

A cool, practical way to Re-use your plastic bottle tops
(Or, you can reclycle them if there is an Aveda near you)

Bird Feeder Made Out of Bottles

DIY Hanging Herb Garden

Use VHS Tapes as Shiny Ribbon

These are great ideas to help get my creative juices flowing.  The May goal to reduce the amount of plastic coming into the house has been semi-successful, but must obviously continue as an active goal for the forseeable future.  REDUCE REDUCE REDUCE. My new mantra. Reduce, and Refuse (as in, I refuse to buy new lip gloss because I have 15 tubes already, not Refuse = Slightly Affected Way to Refer to Trash).

Les and I have begun a massive apartment cleaning project for our decidedly un-massive apartment. It's incredible how just moderate amounts of clutter feels oppressive in a small space. But we're still struggling to figure out what to do about all of our stuff. Wishing I had Refused some of this crap before I had to figure out how to Reduce the piles.

Our Recycle bin is constantly overflowing, the trash can has been emptied more often in the last 3 weeks than I would like to admit. And even as I try to assuage my guilt with the growing "donate" pile on the floor, I have to wonder why anyone ELSE would want/need to bring my 37 slightly used candle votives or the 2 of my original 6 puffy vests that I know I can live without, or the "too lazy to figure out how to fix it" DVD player into their own fortress of stuff. Ugh.

I have way too much stuff already. And yet I always find myself wanting MORE. New. Better. Prettier. Or, even Greener. Living Simply is not that simple. For me, anyway.

The June project of the month is going to be to cook from scratch more often, thereby reducing the consumption of packaged and pre-made food Les and I have grown accustomed to eating. And I don't mean "putting our own toppings on a frozen pizza crust." I mean cooking for real. Taking the time to put food in our food. There's a twinge of dread mixed in with my excitement about this project, but I think it dovetails nicely into May's plastic-reduction project. Less packaging = less plastic, right?

Plus, it is way less scary than the project I have cooking for July...

Giving Up the Poof

I, like many of you, have cohabited with a scruffy-looking plastic mesh body scrubber for much of my adult life. The basic idea is that you squirt some micro-beaded Moisture Magic Shimmering Cashmere Body Wash onto your poof, and the rough plastic poof rubs off your yucky dead skin cells while the Magic Cashmere rubs perfume and silk into your arms and legs and torso.  This process will make you look sparkly and sexy, smell delicious, and make your skin feel like smooth smooth pudding.

Well, it does. Doesn't it? I still remember the first time I used Caress Body Wash in college after years of muddling along with whatever Suave-generic-cheap stuff my mom would buy for us to use in high school. I couldn't stop petting my own shoulder or sniffing my own forearm. I smelled incredible. I felt like silk.

But now that I'm over the whole fancy body wash thing in favor of natural bar soap, my faithful poof has dangled forlornly from the shower faucet for weeks:

Sad. I'm going to give it one last tour of duty to scrub out the icky mildew in the corners of the shower tile with some baking soda before it gets the boot.

But now that I'm using soap instead of body wash, and I don't want any new plastic in my life, what am I going to do about exfoliating? Ashen legs and scaly elbows are unbecoming to even we the crunchy granola.
I'm glad you asked.

Meet my new frenemy:

This is my all natural Yerba Prima Cleansing Co-Worker.  You are supposed to use this stiff-bristled brush on dry skin to rub away all your flaky cells before you get in the shower.
It's super English. Apparently everyone in the UK scrubs themselves before they hit the tub. If you can remember the pre-book launch party prep scene in Bridget Jones, she's rubbing her thighs with a similar brush. The invigorating pressure is supposed to reduce the appearance of cellulite and help keep it from forming. Cleans, scrubs, and reduces cellulite? Naturally? Sign me up.

I bought this brush at Whole Foods for like $12 or something. It hangs on a nail near the shower, and I try to remember to use it before I get in. I don't know if it is beating up my cellulite or not, but I will tell you that rubbing this brush over your thighs and legs and butt in a firm circular motion feels somewhere between "Aaaahhhhhhh...." and "AAAAHAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!"  It feels good, in a painful sort of way.  And you can tell that the dead skin is coming off, because it swirls around a bit like sawdust as you go to town on your wintry dry legs.

I will miss my happy orange body poof. There's nothing quite like a good, exfoliating scrubby-scrub with a poof and some magical chemical body wash. Nothing, that is, except some supernatural vegetable based soap and a cellulite-fighting Yerba Prima Cleansing Co-worker.

Plastic I Can Live Without

OK, so the blog schedule has been tougher to keep than I thought it would be. I have waaay more ideas than I have time to research these days, but I'm hopeful that that is starting to shift a bit for the summer.

But I did want to give you an update on my May project, which is to reduce the amount of plastic I use/allow into my possession. Some things, like switching to bar soap for face and body, and been a cinch. I love my new soap, and I love that I have two fewer plastic bottles in my life. Other things are going to require more work.

Here are some things that I am on track to de-plasticize from my life:

• Cheese - I can buy a limited but very tasty selection of slice-your-own cheese from the Co-Op in Evanston and bring it home in my own container.
• Bulk Stuff like rice, lentils, and beans - OK, so Les is really the lentil eater in our house. And we have yet to do the whole "Soak for a thousand years then boil for 5 days" bulk-bean thing, but we have the beans stacked up so nicely in jars, I'm sure we will hunker down and do this eventually. No plastic-lined aluminum cans or plastic bags.
• Shower products - In addition to the body and face soap mentioned above, I'm also ready to say goodbye to the cheerful orange plastic mesh poof thing that I had been using with my liquid body wash. I have a new skin sloughing tool, but I'm so amused by it that it's going to get its own post. I'm poised to begin easing my way out of commercial shampoo and conditioner as well, but I wanted to make it through the first wedding of the summer last weekend before going "no-poo".
• All manner of plastic bags - Armed with my dazzling array of reusable shopping bags (including some so cute and tiny that they can be snuggled into any decent-sized purse), I have no excuse for not being virtually plastic bag free. Don't believe the myth that your tomatoes and carrots and apples need their own plastic bag in order to come home safely with you. If the idea of them rolling around in your grocery basket or cart stresses you out, give them their own canvas bag for the ride around the store. You know you're going to wash them anyway, so don't wig out about there naked skin touching the checkout conveyor belt when you take them out to get weighed. See this cute little chico bag? Get one and stash it in your purse. Then you can say "I don't need a bag" for everything.
• Plastic lunch ware and utensils - My coworkers already think I am kind of weird, so it wasn't a big deal to start showing up to the break room with my own bowl, plate, cloth napkin, and real utensils. They fit into my desk drawer, and eliminate the need to reheat anything in plastic or use disposable cutlery. Now if only I could be disciplined enough to ALWAYS bring my own lunch rather than eating out 2 or 3 times a week, I could be making a dent...

So, some changes have been pretty easy to make. I'm definitely more aware of how much plastic there is everywhere, on everything. There are some plastic things that I just can't figure out how to reasonably give up/swap out. Like:

• Razors (not ready to be hairy-legged quite yet)
• The plastic that wraps our favorite pizza, organic carrots, bags of edamame, potstickers, etc...
• Doggy potty pads (These have seriously saved our sanity - and our floors...)

And lots of other stuff that I can't think of right this second.

But the awareness of all this plastic around me has helped me start to make some different choices. It's almost like a game now at the grocery store. Time to play "Get the Stuff With the Least Amount of Plastic!". The game has actually prevented me from buying things that I otherwise would have purchased, or at least hunt around for a non-plastic version. Like buying TP wrapped in recycled paper rather than plastic.

I'm still selfish and I still buy individually wrapped treats like fruit leathers (I COULD make these myself if I had a food dehydrator, but would I?) and sometimes string cheese. But I'm getting better. Little by little.

For some real inspiration, check out http://www.myplasticfreelife.com/. No whining about frozen pizza wrappers over there....

From Envy, to Greed, to Pride, to.... Green?

When I saw my dear sister a couple of weekends ago, I eyed her new shoulder bag with cool envy. It was bright and springy, and the perfect size to carry all my essentials without being big enough to double duty as an overnight bag. I ran my hand over it's smooth fabric. My sister helpfully chimed in "Isn't it great? The fabric is made from recycled water bottles!" Now, of course, I had to have one. You know, to support the economics of the recycling life cycle.

Robyn got her Lilly Bloom bag, made with Karma Bloom fabric, from good old Marshall's - a favorite of ours for "I would never buy this full price, but since it's such a bargain..." retail therapy. To sweeten the deal, I also had a gift card for Marshall's, thanks to the recent return of a gift that didn't fit. 

So, despite the fact that I need another purse like I need a hole in the head, I gleefully came home from Marshall's last weekend with this lovely shoulder tote for a mere $7 of my own money:

It goes with everything!



It's got the perfect sleeve pocket in the back to hold my goes-everywhere-with-me notebook!

For the first couple of days, I was wearing the buzz of an awesome new purchase on my face. This bag made me smile. It was pretty, it looked cute with all my coats, and it was the perfect size.  Better yet, the pleather was just decorative, so I didn't need to worry about the pervasive purse-dooming pleather fraying that has sent more than a few of my fave purses to the heap. Or so I thought.

Wouldn't you know it, 4 days into my Fabulous New Life With My New Purse, the pleather on the sort of helpful/sort of bewildering top handle came unstitched:

Of course it did.

Now I'm debating about taking it back or just snipping the handle off all together. I don't particularly like bags with multiple handle options, but this bag is so light and soft, the top handle was actually kind of helpful for picking the bag up from the floor. Plus it added to its "I'm a tiny satchel bag! Look at how cute I am!" appeal.

The handle failure also serves as an excellent reminder that stuff is just stuff, and it will all end up being discarded eventually. I certainly didn't NEED this purse. I am enjoying it, though, broken handle and all. This whole experience is prompting me to be more structured and methodical about the new leaf of "not buying stuff" that I am supposedly turning over. I'm going to stew over this a bit more and get back to you with a more goal-oriented approach to STOP the madness of my stuff buying.

Cold-turkey has worked pretty well so far with the Diet Coke and the hair dye. Could I dare try to detox from buying things in a similar fashion? Gasp! Man, I'm glad I got this purse before I made that kind of deal with myself.