Stuffed

The gifting season is here, gaining speed like Casey Jones and that runaway train, on the wrong track and headed for you. So put down the cocaine and lets have a civilized discussion about this.

JP sent NYM a link to The Story of Stuff. I've sent it out to some people. It is definitely worth the 20+ minutes of your life. But for the time-challenged, here's the gist: We have been trained to consume, almost at all costs. This consumption-to-trash lifestyle is damaging the planet and people, including ourselves. Solution: Buy less, consume less.

http://www.storyofstuff.com/

So where does that leave us during this time of giving? Give less? Give nothing? Become Scrooge? This is the quandry I find myself in as I tool through Borders, judging whether items are worthy of the people I love. Do we really need more stuff? And why do we depend on stuff to say "I care about you"? Or to make us feel better? How do we break this hold stuff has on us?

One thing is for sure, we can't do it alone. It has to be a decision supported by those near and dear to us. It has to be OK to say "Let's not consume more stuff." A coworker of mine suggested a step-by-step program, such as starting by giving only handmade gifts. I think this sounds swell and I wish I had thought of it earlier. Oh well. There's always next year!

Until next time, wishing you the gift of joy. And sanity.

Fairly Young Woman In Front of the Milk Cooler in a Big City

So my New Year's resolution this year was to try to live a more environmentally-friendly life. When I started out, it was pretty overwhelming. But the resolution was meant to be empowering, not debilitating. So it was onward toward that far-away goal of green, one small step at a time.

I shopped at Whole Foods and bought as much organic as I could. I reused bags. My carbon footprint was already pretty small compared to non-city folk, thanks to the MTA. As our light bulbs blew, we replaced them with the eco-friendly ones. Instead of throwing things out, I gave them away on craigslist. And I became pretty vigilant about recycling (G has the scars to prove it).

But there are many grey areas to green. Case in point, tonight I found myself in front of the milk cooler pondering whether to buy the new brand of organic fat free milk or stick with the Stonyfield organic, even though I'd have to buy 2% because that is all they had. So what should be my priority here? My arteries, which probably don't need 2% fat? The price? The cuteness of the cows featured on the packaging? Honestly, I don't know. But here is how I made the decision: I rolled the cartons onto their sides to see where they were from. Fat-free was California-based. Stonyfield is New Hampshire-based. So I picked Stonyfield, since it probably didn't travel as far, and therefore produced less carbon. Cholesterol be damned.

Until next time, green like you mean it!

Axis of evil?

Amigos, I sense a conspiracy of grand proportions is afoot. I think the bugs, the rats and the Super are all in cahoots. I have proof!

On my way upstairs last night I ran into one of my neighbors. I asked him if he had seen any bugs. He lowered his voice in a conspiratorial manner and asked, "What kind of bugs?" Like he didn't know. Cha. I dropped my voice and whispered, "Bed bugs." And here is what he said:

No, we haven't seen any of them for two months since they treated the last time, after we had to petition for the exterminators to come in. We had them. Not a lot of them, like the apartments on the second and third floor. We were pretty ticked, too, that the exterminators drilled in our walls this time because we painted and we don't have any of that paint left.

AH HA! So when the Super said only three apartments on the second and third floor had the bugs, he was lying. I think all his gestures of installing screens and replacing toilet seats were to throw me off the scent. His ultimate goal: Leave me unprepared for the bugs' attack.

Oh, what a wicked web they weave.

To further cement his "good, anti-bug" image, the Super has contacted the exterminators and they are coming tomorrow morning to "evaluate" my apartment. Probably checking to see if I am crazy and imagining bugs or if they are really here. This involves me bravely carving a path through the rubbish in my apartment tonight, so they can get through the boxes and bags and such. Callooh! Callay!

Anyway, I miss the funny and I bet you do, too. So I'll do my best with a few snapshots from New York:

Witnessed on Sixth Avenue
I was walking next to a man on his cellphone and over heard the following conversation:
"Where are you?" he lisped. "Oh! I can see you! You're right ahead of me."
"No, no. Turn, turn, turn. A complete 360." I can actually see a woman up ahead at the corner spinning in circles like a Magic Kingdom teacup. After a dizzying number of spins they finally establish contact, evoking the ever popular "Daaaarling! How are you?" I can't believe people actually say this.

How To Take Over The City, or Apple Is Manufacturing Weapons of Mass Destruction
Everyone but me has an iPod here. They listen to them on the subway, while walking, in the store, even while they are pretending to hold conversations with their friends. It must be like walking around in a movie, where your whole life has a soundtrack. "And here is my 'Walk the dog and look away while he tinkles' song. It's so jazzy." Anyway, if anyone -- say Lex Luthor -- wanted to take over Metropolis, iPods would be the way. Just a few choice electric shocks, or maybe subliminal messages, and he would have a whole army of willing drones. Think about that the next time you pop in those earplugs, America. I bet they even have kryptonite chips embedded in them.


Shopping In Astoria
My grocery store, the local Associated, sells a variety of ethnic foods and some unusual edibles. For instance, you can get a 12-pack of frozen quail, which are so tiny they don't seem worth the effort. There are also Irish soda breads from the Gaelic bakery, stuffed grape leaves and a variety of guava and mango beverages. But my favorite ethnic food is Abuelita chocolate drink mix. The box makes me chuckle every time I see it. Is it just me, or is she giving you a "come hither" stare over her cup of cocoa?

Until Wednesday, drink your Ovaltine ...