I'm Sick of Green

I’m sick of a lot of things: Barbie and Ken news commentators; scummy celebrities (from Prince Charles right on down); the way the minority rules in our country right now; a governor who is an embarrassment; a ribald joke of an ex-president; unbalanced reporting by the mainstream media, and “going green.”

It isn’t that I don’t like the color green. It’s one of my favorites, especially when it’s the color of leaves on trees (when I’m currently seeing nothing but winter-brown grass covered with snow and ice). I’m sick of this whole “green movement.”

An extreme example is the ridiculous concept of “carbon offsets.” The idea that you can go ahead and operate your billion-dollar corporate (or personal) jet to fly from here to there on a whim, and then you can offset that tremendous expenditure of carbon fuels and horrendous outpouring of exhaust gasses by simply paying some entity a big sum of money. Since when does lining someone’s pockets with money help to “save the environment”? And who is it that is getting the money? Peta? Whale watchers? Global Warming Enthusiasts? You can bet that it’s not reaching the rest of us who live ordinary lives and try our darndest to leave as small a footprint on this earth as we sensibly can.

I have yet to hear of a “green campaign” that didn’t turn out to be a hoax. Hybrid cars? They use up more fossil fuels providing the electricity that keeps them charged. Using dishes instead of disposable plates/cups/etc? So where do you think that dish-washing liquid comes from? Renewable sources of energy? Every one of them is more expensive to the environment once you dig beneath the surface statistics that are supposed to fool you. Gasahol? It’s nice for corn producers, but that corn has to be turned into alcohol, and that doesn’t happen with the flick of a wand. The list goes on and on.

And on a completely trivial and frivolous front, I don’t like the greens that are being forced on us as the “in” colors. Lime green and olive for living room walls? Come on! That’s a disgusting combination! Lime green and turquoise? We struggled through that combination in the 70s, and it’s no happier a marriage of color now than it was then.

I’d better quit this diatribe so I don’t have to go buy some carbon offsets for using up the airwaves (and the electricity it takes to run my laptop).

Smiles for Similes

There was a time when my Cousin Joy and I were stay-at-home moms, and we wrote to each other every week. We got so desparate for adult conversation that we set out to use big words as often as we could in our letters.

At some point we both decided to collect similies. Don't remember your literature? A simile is a comparison of two things using the words "like" or "as." A couple of examples are "slow as molasses in January," "She looked like the wrath of God," and "snug as a bug in a rug."

Over the years I wrote the similes I found in the margins of a book that was a collection of them. After I moved, I couldn't find the book, so I've just jotted them down on pieces of paper. Every once in awhile I come across one, and I get another chuckle out of it.

I remember when Jim's brother was going through his divorce, and he was so upset. He would visit us and unload about how he felt. It was very sad. The trouble was that he is a very humorous guy, and he would use these similes that would be so funny, I couldn't keep from bursting out laughing. My laughter was so inappropriate, but it was impossible not to laugh. The first one I remember was "slippery as snot on a glass door knob." Here I sit laughing so hard that tears have formed in my eyes. I wish I had recorded all of them that he said.

The other night I was finishing M. C. Beaton's book Death of a Gentle Lady, and up popped a simile I just had to save: “…her eyelashes were so heavily mascaraed, it looked as if two large spiders had found a home in her face.”

So now I'm starting over again to collect similes. Anyone want to join me?

Incidentally, if you can't get the comment thing to work, send your comments to my email, kdfyke@mchsi.com.

Oh, Those Orphaned Lids!

This frugality thing can be carried too far, especially for those of us who don’t routinely clear out our storage places.

This morning I tackled the plastic lid box. When we got new kitchen cabinets a few years ago, we bought roll-out racks on all the lower cabinets. As 2-year-old Pete says, “I lub ‘em.” To keep them “organized,” I put boxes or baskets on them to hold whatever is supposed to be on the shelf.

Over the years I’ve just tossed still-good plastic lids in a box on the lower shelf of a cabinet in the pantry. It got so I couldn’t find any lid I was looking for, so I added a counter-top box, which quickly filled to capacity. Today I weeded out about 7/8th of them, figuring I only needed 9 McDonalds large drink lids, 10 McDonalds coffee lids, 10 from Hucks, etc. I’m certain I don’t have many of the cups left…I hope.

In the process of sorting, I found the lids to several travel mugs. I thought those lids were long gone…..although I knew for certain that I had not intentionally thrown them away. Now those orphaned mugs can be put to use again. (Do I really NEED 7 plastic travel mugs???)

I also found about 20 sturdy lids that went to plastic containers of different sizes, shapes, and age. I can almost remember some of the containers, but I haven’t seen them in years. Now comes the hard part: I have to throw away those lids! And I KNOW that within a month I will find the container, and the lid will be gone.

Now, logic and common sense tell me that if I have not had lid+container in the recent past, I do not need that set. Still, my frugal (or crazy) nature abhors the thought of throwing those perfectly good lids away. But I’ll do it. Yes, I will. Yup, I’m on my way to the kitchen right now to pitch them in the trash…..or not. Tune in next time to find out if Karen still has a cupboard full of sturdy, orphaned lids!

Holy Ghost Lady

When I started this blog, I didn't really know much about blogs or what was expected of me. I could NOT think of a nifty name for my blog. Nothing sounded like ME. Well, now I've thought of something, and it's too late. I'm already signed on as Karendelane. Boring!

When we went to West Bluff Christian Church in West Peoria, IL, I taught a lot of Sunday School. I got the idea that we would teach the kids the Gloria Patri and the Doxology, since those were sung in every church service, and it seemed logical that kids would enjoy being able to join in. Naturally the words of those two song-lets are very unusual to kids.

After a few weeks we were making progress, and the kidlings were finally getting the hang of it. One Sunday I was absent, and one of the five-year-olds asked, "Where's the Holy Ghost Lady?"

Now, there's a good blog name! Holy Ghost Lady! Why didn't I think of that last year?

Well Water

“In winter, always set the handle of your pump as high as possible, before you go to bed. Except in very rigid weather, this keeps the handle from freezing. When there is reason to apprehend extreme cold do not forget to throw a rug or horse-blanket over your pump; a frozen pump is a comfortless preparation for a winter’s breakfast.” (Mrs. Child in American Frugal Housewife)

When I grew up in New Boston, we got our water from a pump. It stood on the lot line between our house and the neighbors’ so it was used by both. I remember how you had to work the handle up and down several times before it would start to bring up water, and I always worried that it wouldn’t work this time. Once you had the water coming, each time the handle was pushed down, water would gush from the spout into the bucket. It was beautiful!

And the water was the best I’ve ever tasted. New Boston sits on sand and near the Mississippi River. I don’t think the well was very deep at all, and all the sand served as a strainer and purifier, I guess. I wish that I had that kind of water in my house today!

Our well water was terrific, BUT you had to go get it, pump it, and bring the bucket back to the house. I like to think that I was in charge of bringing in the bucket every day, but I doubt if that was true. I got away with doing very few chores. Nevertheless it was common for Grandma to say, “Karen, go get a bucket of water,” and I don’t remember ever getting out of it.

Hygiene wasn’t the same then as it is now. The white enamel bucket sat on the corner of the counter with a long-handled enamel dipper placed in it. When you were thirsty, you drank right from the dipper. Sounds like everyone drinking from the same dipper is a nasty, dirty practice, but I don’t think we were any more likely to share germs that way than we were by living in the same enclosed airspace.

The place where that well was located is now in the middle of a carwash. I can't go back to get another drink of that wonderful water. Oh well.

1/4 PF + 1/3 wb + 1/4 hw = Too Much

Frugality is a good thing, but it takes practice. I managed to think of something to do with the 1/4 loaf of Pepperidge Farm bread, but then I found a 1/3 loaf of sliced white bread that had grown some mold. Win some, lose some. There's still a 1/4 loaf of honey wheat (boughten) bread there. I'm almost afraid to look to see if it's moldy. I need to get this bread GONE, so I can make some bread...in my bread machine, of course. I'm not too good on the kneading thing.

Tonight for supper I made up a small batch of sage dressing, poured cream of chicken soup over it and nestled two boneless chicken breasts on top. Baked it for about 40 minutes. Came out really tasty....and the Pepperidge Farm bread got used up before it molded. That's a first.

The birds (mostly starlings, of course) thought my bread plentitude was right on! They may get a bunch of honey wheat tomorrow...if I get up the courage to see if it's molded yet.

My mother (frugal to the bone) always kept her bread in the refrigerator (I almost said "ice box.") I think she got in the habit when Father was baking bread right and left, faster than they could eat it up. The bread didn't mold as quickly, but it always seemed drier than that left in plastic bags on the counter. After Father died, there was only her to eat up a loaf of bread, so into the frige it went. I never heard her complain, but I don't like refrigerator stored bread.

Mrs. Child on Bread

Now here’s an example of real frugality:

“As far as it is possible, have bits of bread eaten up before they become hard. Spread those that are not eaten, and let them dry, to be pounded for puddings, or soaked for brewis. Brewis is made of crusts and dry pieces of bread, soaked a good while in hot milk, mashed up, and salted, and buttered like toast. Above all, do not let crusts accumulate in such quantities that they cannot be used. With proper care, there is no need of losing a particle of bread, even in the hottest weather.” (p. 8 of American Frugal Housewife, 1833)

Right now on my counter are 2 partial loaves of bread, and I doubt if we will get them used before one or the other is infested with mold. I love bread! I want to try every loaf of bread on the store shelves. I want to make bread in my bread machine. I want to have buns on hand when I need them, and packages of Crescent rolls and Grands in the refrigerator. Trouble is that there are only two of us in the house, and both of us are supposed to be watching our weights.

My favorite bread was the sourdough bread I used to make when I still had the “starter.” The smell of that bread rising and baking was wonderful. Eventually I got tired of feeding the starter when I knew I wasn’t going to have time to make the bread, so I threw the starter out. I wish I hadn’t. It’s hard to get real sour dough starter going again. I’ve heard you can do it by putting yeast in some water and letting it sit out on the counter for a couple of days. I’ve also heard that this starter isn’t strong enough to support the weight of the bread. I suppose you can always add more regular yeast in addition to the sourdough starter, but I haven’t tried it yet.

When I’m pretty sure we’re not going to finish a partial loaf of bread or a lone roll, I crumble it up and put it out for the birds. Of course, the birds who mostly profit from this feast are starlings, but I don’t really care. They’re funny to watch, and if they didn’t congregate in such huge numbers, no one would mind them being around. More about starlings another day.

All in all, I’m glad I don’t live in the day when bread was so precious that we had to hoard every single crumb.