money bags: making more out of less

Since leaving my job as a nurse two years ago (on the cusp of giving birth to my daughter), I’ve become keenly aware of the fact that our family lives in a more earth friendly way on one income. Partly this is because I have time to do all the “green” things that one has time for as a hausfrau, and partly it’s because we plain don’t have money to spend on travel and new stuff and all the other things that are decidedly unhelpful to the planet. Either way, we are getting the hang of the whole live simply so others may simply live concept. And liking it.

The only trouble with was that we couldn’t afford it. Every month since Cora was born we’ve slowly but surely gone into the red, dipping into our small savings just to cover our most basic expenses. It was, you see, green and earth friendly, and yet ultimately unsustainable. I was looking down the road and seeing blue scrubs in my future.

For the record, I loved working as a nurse. But if I had to choose between the high stress of the hospital to a day of nursing my girl, soaking beans, walking to the store, and living fully, I’d take the latter. Hands down. If only the latter could make economic sense. Which I became determined to make happen. In essence, my job was to figure out how to make staying home pay. Clearly, just making yogurt and shampoo, while helpful, wasn’t enough. I had to get a firmer grip on our budget.

Funny enough, it took me awhile to see the answer sitting right in front of me. Here we were, discovering the richness of a life with less plastic, and I was still using my debit card for just about everything. So, I extended the no plastic rule to that magic little card. Thats right: less plastic, more cash. As with most of my brilliant discoveries, lot’s of folks have been touting this method for…ever. This post on the envelope system is quite helpful, and it’s basically what I’m doing now. For the first time since I said goodbye to a paycheck, we’re fully in the black. Just like that we were living within our means.

Shortly after I started divvying up cash for our different expenses, I found these tempting little cloth money envelopes. Don’t they just make you want to be frugal for the sake of cuteness? I wanted them so bad. But you guessed it: not on the budget. So then I thought, I could make those. And then I thought, no I can’t because I can’t buy (plastic) zippers.

Welcome to my world, folks.

I might have been able to find metal zippers, and might even have figured out how to install them. I’ve learned that there’s almost always an alternative to plastic. In this case, it happened to be a couple little wooden buttons from my sewing box. And a bit of improvisation. Perhaps I’ll get to embroidering little labels like “gas” or “comida” on these purses, but for now I just like to pretend all the money in them is for yarn.

One More Small Change: Eco Shabbat

Ah, February. Time to make another small change. Last month’s change was, if I do say so myself, a bit on the superficial side. Now, there’s nothing wrong with that, but for the sake of balance I’m turning now a bit more inward, towards the soul side of life.

Eco shabbat is about rest. For us, and for the planet. It is a time to slow down, literally and metaphorically. In Judaism, Shabbat begins at sundown on Friday night with the ritual lighting of candles, reciting of prayers, and sharing of challah. It ends at sundown on Saturday. The time in between is spent turning away from mundanity and towards the sacred. Without the distractions of technology and work and busy-ness, shabbat creates room for prayer and reflection. For dedicated time with family and friends and one’s own self. It is also a time to lessen our impact on the earth, to let it, too rest.

To facilitate this rest, life gets unplugged for a spell. Everything goes acoustic, as my musician husband was pleased to point out. Time is taken away from computer and television screens. Electric lights are left off. The car is kept parked. No money is exchanged. The radio is silent. Food is prepared in advance. In exchange, one gets to enjoy candle light. To go to bed early. To make music, play games, create art, take naps, journal, go for a walk, or visit neighbors. To give thanks.

My hope is to bring an eco-shabbat into our home at least one full day and night this month. February is full to bursting for our family. We have so much going on–wonderful, enriching things, yes, but the scales are tipped firmly in the camp of do, do, do. One day of rest would be a gift, a blessing, a wonderful beginning. And along the way we’ll carve out small shabbats. Earth hours, if you will. Weekday dinners spent in candle light. The odd day spent wholly at home, with nothing on the agenda. My hope is that it grows from there, becoming more a part of our lives, our rhythm, our days.

::

With thanks to the spiritual traditions that have passed this wisdom down.

A Journey in Thanks

I should have said yesterday that we didn’t just one day wake up and stop having trash in our garbage pail. It’s been a slow process of weaning ourselves off it these last five months. This journey to figuring out how to live with less waste is ongoing, but already so much goodness has come out of this simple commitment. Really, it’s almost like the minimum of trash is a side benefit rather than the point. Some of my favorite things from along the way:

:: Accessing my inner resourcefulness. That is, learning to cook root vegetables.

:: The rhythms of making bread, cheese, and yogurt.

:: Fearless trial and error.

:: Stepping outside the gates of the industrial food kingdom for a wholehearted return to whole foods, local foods, unpackaged foods, homemade foods.

:: Mindfulness and attention at the store, in the home, on the road, in my head.

:: Becoming a part of the strong and growing community of people who recognize that while we might not be able to change the world, we can change for the good of the world.

:: Discovering that saying no to plastic is not an act of deprivation but an invitation to partake of gifts previously unimagined and ever so benevolent. It is, in essence, about saying yes to an unwrapped life.

For all of these things, and for all the things to come, I am so grateful.

First Month’s Reckoning

In the venerable tradition of plastic free bloggers, here’s a semi-complete* accounting of the plastic that made it’s way into our house this month. Sneaky stuff, I tell you.

The first thing I had to come to terms with was that saying we wouldn’t be buying ANY plastic was, as my skeptical friends pointed out from the get-go, impossible. At least, for beginners like us it was. Choosing glass jars still meant a plastic seal around the lid, and sometimes a plastic lid. Considering that we didn’t buy any foods in plastic bottles, tubs, bags, or wrappings, as well as canned goods, this seemed like a necessary compromise. Nevertheless, we managed to cut back a little more each week, learning to rely ever more on the wondrous bulk aisle (what will we discover there next?).

So what do we have here?

A toothbrush package. Yes, the toothbrush was also plastic, you won’t be surprised to hear. We actually have two new ones, but I haven’t opened the other. They came from the dentist and neither of us were able to say No Thank You to that little souvenir at our checkups. We did, however, decline the dental floss (we have plenty) and the cheerful plastic gift bag.

A plastic cork. Kind of a gamble, unless you know the wine from experience. We know one NOT to get, now.

A couple of little hook hanger thingies from who knows what. Socks?

Plastic wrapping from a glass supplement bottle. The man needs his glucosamine, but not the extra wrapping. I’m going to write the company.

Seals from glass bottles of ketchup, yogurt, almond butter, mayo. It bears mentioning that I bought the humungous jar of mayo to avoid this quandary if and when we ever run out. Since we’re still buying milk in returnable glass jugs (see below) I’ve started making yogurt from that. For a quarter of the price, I might add. Almond butter comes in bulk, so I’m not sure how this made it into the cart. And ketchup. Well, we’ll see about that.

A screw-top from…something.

A butterscotch wrapper. From the mailman.

Five milk caps, and slightly fewer rings from the milk jugs. Apparently I’m not as diligent as I thought I was about saving trash. It doesn’t come very automatically after a lifetime of tossing it.

I call this little pile Friends and Family. It became apparent on around January 2nd that we wouldn’t be able to say no to gifts of plastic. Dinner guests are so happy to bring the roasted piñon gelato or the salad, and we’re so happy to have them (the guests, that is), that there’s no point letting our experiment come between us. For the record, we didn’t ask for these things. Just a little company.

The windup chatterbox was a late Xmas gift to Cora from the neighbor girls. She loved it for the hour it lasted before breaking.

And now for the moment you’ve been waiting for. What was it that Kyce couldn’t resist? What was so irresistible and necessary that even this woman with convictions of steel (!) couldn’t say no to it? Was it the cheese crackers for her little girl? The pint of blueberries? Nooo. It was a puny bottle of citric acid. Totally premeditated and I remain unrepentant. With it we made goat milk mozzarella. What can I say? I was craving pizza. And that little bottle will make an awful lot of cheese. Look for it in our trash pile come October.

There you have it. Our plastic trash from this month. Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Looks like an awful lot. Sadly, we don’t have a before picture showing our haul back in the days before we started cutting back. So you’ll have to believe me when I say this is quite an improvement.
Wish us luck for next month.

* Semi complete only because there are some things still in use, like the odd plastic bag from our CSA and a few lids. Also, astute readers will note that the styrofoam I posted about a while ago is nowhere to be seen. Apparently we couldn’t bear to keep that sad reminder around.

More Homemade Bodycare

Here’s my homemade shampoo update: it’s great and I love it.

A girlfriend and I spent an afternoon last week blending up a storm. We mixed, melted, concocted, and otherwise let our inner herbwife’s play away. We improvised a lotion, followed this recipe for the most luscious deodorant on earth, and made a fat batch of Rosemary Gladstar’s Famous Face Cream (which can be found in several of her books, including Herbs for Natural Beauty),

Here’s my lotion recipe. It should yield liquid self love of the highest order no matter your experience with this kind of alchemy.

Melt in a double boiler or microwave

1 C  grapeseed or almond oil (infused with herbs if you don’t mind waiting a week)

1.5 T shea butter

1.5 T coconut oil (or 1/3 C shea or coco)

1T beeswax

Cool to room temperature and reserve.

Into blender pour

1/3 C aloe vera gel or distilled water

10-20 drops essential oil of choice, if desired

Turn blender on a high setting, and slowly drizzle in room temperature (partially solidified) oil mixture.

Blend until creamy and butter colored.

Aah, the bliss of being well moisturized...

The pledge

When I first agreed to this plastic free scheme (despite my ever growing enthusiasm, it was my husband’s brain child) I thought we’d be lone eco-freaks filling our muslin bags at the co-op. To my delight, we are far from alone. So, so many of us are looking for ways to live less wastefully, inspiring each other to ever greater heights of eco-freakiness. Witness this here pledge from the Plastic Pollution Coalition. I like it. Especially the first bit about just saying no. That’s all it takes, folks. I promise you won’t go hungry. It might even be kind of fun. Try it for a day, a week, or as long as you like.

Single-Use Plastic Emergency Response (S.U.P.E.R.) Hero Pledge

I will follow the “4 Rs” of sustainable living in the following order of preference:

Refuse:

Just say NO to single-use and disposable plastics like bags and bottles, straws, cups, plates, silverware and razors. Instead, bring your own shopping and produce bags to the market. Carry a reusable bottle with you for drinking on the go. Bring your travel mug to the coffee shop. Pack your own utensils. Skip the straw. (Plastic straws are for suckers!) Bring your own containers for take-out or ask for non-plastic disposable packaging.

Reduce:

Reduce waste: buy in bulk, choose products with the least packaging, look for products and packaging made from renewable resources, and avoid plastic packaging and containers. Choose products that have the least amount of disposable parts, like razors with replaceable blades and toothbrushes with replaceable brushes.

Reuse:

Reuse preferably nontoxic (glass, stainless steel) containers and goods to make less waste. Bad habits are disposable, containers are reusable.

Recycle:

Recycle what you can’t refuse, reduce or reuse. Recycling is a last option because it uses energy, and there may not be a market for the refabricated materials.

Oh yeah. That’s what I’m talking about. Ready to sign on? Click here to take the pledge.

If you’re still not convinced that your actions can make a difference

you might enjoy this post from Fake Plastic Fish on Why Personal Changes Matters.

a moment of silence at the playground

I was at the park with my girl Cora talking with another parent. It was a brilliant day, cripsy with snow but warm in that way that New Mexico at midday in January can be. We were in good spirits, our talk bubbling with passion and humor while the kids played. We covered politics and parenting, restoration efforts on our local river, and, you know, Everything Else.

And then I blithely mentioned the gyres, the “patches” of floating plastic that are like loosely formed continents in all the world’s seas. My friend hadn’t heard about them before. He grew quiet. So did I. A moment of silence at the playground for the world’s oceans.

I remembered how I felt when I first learned about the Great Pacific Garbage Patch and others like it: Horrified. Overwhelmed. Helpless. Sick. It is a tremendous realization, that one, on par with understanding that we are in the midst of the Sixth Great Extinction, that climate change will not be reversed (sorry, the supreme court has me down), that we have caused irreparable damage on a scale we still don’t fully understand.

“Makes you realize that there’s so little we can do,” my friend said at last. I nodded. I’m no stranger to that feeling. For years I didn’t really do much at all because of how vast the problems seemed and how small I felt. So in addition to doing nothing beyond the small things I felt were enough–the convenient, affordable, and not requiring any compromise things like recycling, changing light bulbs, and hanging clothes on the line–I did one rather unsurprising thing.

I turned away from the suffering of the world. I turned away from my fear. I accepted that my smallness was valid, and let it hamper not only my thoughts but my actions. I blamed the government for its lack of will. I blamed the corporations for their insane greed. I blamed my fellow citizens for being what our culture has made us. So long as I maintained the story that I was helpless and passive, I felt safe from the blame.

I mean, I’ve known about the gyres for years. Years! When did I decide to do something about it? Three months ago. Will what I’m doing make a difference? Probably not. All along I’ve called our choice to learn to live with less plastic a symbolic action. An act of solidarity with the ocean. With the fish and turtles and birds. With the world’s poor who simply don’t have the choice to over-consume. With my grandchildren. It’s all of those things, but most of all it’s the best way we could think of to break out of our cycle of inaction, our belief that because there’s so little we could do, we didn’t really need to do anything.

It doesn’t matter, ultimately, if this small step can heal the oceans. What matters is our attempt to live in a way that is conducive rather than obstructive to that healing.

So I nodded understandingly to my friend. “There aren’t any easy solutions,” I said. “Just lot’s of good places to start.”

::

To learn more about the gyres, and find out what you can do, visit 5 Gyres or Rise Above Plastics, read an article or two, or check out the documentary Addicted to Plastic.

This Week’s Recipe Brought to You By

the snow falling surely and steadily across our high desert home

the sun breaking through

the land transformed

and the unexpected rainbow right here where we stand.

Thank you snow, thank you sun, thank you, my little fashionista.

Thank you, friends, for sharing the journey.

Have a lovely, snowed in weekend!

Today

The girl at my side, the bread rising on the table.

The day bright and fresh and calling me to explore it.

See you out there.

::

“Don’t ask what the world need. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it.

Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”

–Howard Thurman

Plastic-free Homesteading

(Feeling pretty capable back in September. Oh, to be young and innocent again.)

A while back a friend asked me how the plastic-free homesteading was going and I said, “Great, between the dismal failures.” Yup, sometimes the pressure cooker stew burns or the bread comes out dense (or mutant, see picture) or the goat milk yogurt does whatever it does that doesn’t involve thickening. Maybe you are already thinking that none of these are failures – they are the signs of a fearless housewife embarking into an unknown country (the Olden Days, remember) and learning much along the way.

That’s right, I am. After a few months of figuring things out as I go, of occasionally melting down and wailing “this is supposed to make me happy,” of serving dal all week for dinner because I just couldn’t think what else to make (I know some of you do that on purpose, but gee whiz, enough’s enough), and of somehow persevering anyways because I made a vow but also because I had a hunch that less waste really could equal more joy, things are looking up.

These days, my bread is coming out positively artisanal thanks to the fabulous and foolproof no-knead method. My dinners are a triumph of creative simplicity (right, honey?). I’m saving the goat milk for cheese making, and using cow milk for the yogurt  because it’s tear proof (and cheap and comes in returnable glass bottles). All of this makes it a lot easier to have warm fuzzy feelings about “doing the right thing.” Which every day becomes less and less novel, and more and more just the way we live.

I know, I know, it looks like I’ve got things under control. But not to worry. I’m sure I’ll burn the soup again soon.