What I Did on My Summer Vacation.

Hello? Remember me? It's been awhile. Three months, in fact, since I sat, trying to organize thoughts that might become a theme, that might—in turn—become a post.

My apologies.

My thoughts still don't feel terribly cohesive, possibly because my brain is so cluttered. As is our house.

You see, we've had projects.

 

Many, many projects.

Many inside projects.

Our poor gardens look—quite frankly—like an ad for Master Gardener life-support: “Do your gardens look like this? Let us help!” Seriously, I wouldn't hire me. I'm ashamed for my business.

We did have some pretty lovely tomatoes hiding in the ugliness. 

While the gardens turned into unruly jungles, our house, however, underwent a four-month-long transition from bachelor pad bought in 1997 to a family-friendly home. In the 12 years since we've been married, we've stripped wallpaper, painted, finished the basement, built Tyler a man-cave, installed a pool, and generally tried to make do. But there have always been fundamental problems with the bones of the house.

Finally, we decided to fix those problems.

So, for my friends that have listened to my whines and tripped over boxes of hardwood flooring while visiting, or for my far-away gardening friends who wonder if late blight got the best of my sanity...I thought I'd share some before and after photos of how we spent our summer vacation. I promise to return to our regularly scheduled chats about gardens and such next time...

Renovations, Round One

Projects: Add a downstairs bathroom, gut both existing upstairs bathrooms, and build a new laundry room downstairs. 

Why? The new downstairs bathroom is primarily for Tyler's use, but it's also convenient to the swimming pool. We no longer have to drip throughout the house for emergency potty breaks when swimming!

Our master bath was dinky—and ugly. We stole space from the kids' bath by moving a wall, and we removed the existing hall linen closet to expand the kids' bath.

We moved the existing laundry room downstairs to open up room for the kitchen expansion.

Before:

Honestly, our bathrooms were so ugly that I don't think I ever took photos of them. So, here's the tear-out phase for the existing bathrooms:

Tearing out the wall between the master bath and kids' bath to make space...

View from the storage room to the new laundry room and bathroom-to-be...on the left.

First finished:

New Downstairs Bath. Nothing fancy, just a place for Ty to take his 30 minutes showers without us banging on the door for him to GET OUT. 

 

 

A key feature in all baths is the very cool, environmentally-friendly, dual flush Toto toilets. 

 

When we started the remodeling project, Peter and I wanted everything to be green. Verdant. Minimal environmental impact. Save the rain forests, and all that.

Then financial reality set in.

And contractor reality slapped us in the face. The first contractor we interviewed didn't know the difference between a dual-flush toilet and an outhouse. (Sadly, I think some of the subs never learned how to use it, either. Eww.)

The most fun of bathroom remodeling? The frequent, urgent trips with the kids to Publix. Publix has really lovely, clean bathrooms. Did you know? I adore Publix, especially their attention to detail in their bathrooms.

The second biggest pleasure of bathroom remodeling is to share the one, newly installed, only operational bathroom among five family members and—at one point—nine construction guys.

Boy, that was a pleasure. I'll just let your imagination run wild with that thought.

(On an embarrassing side note: I walked in on our main contractor. To my defense, we didn't have doorknobs installed yet, I saw the bathroom light on and thought one of the kids forgot to turn it off...and HELLO. I felt the need to hide for the rest of the day.)

Second room finished (kind of):

Laundry room. 

 

Our previous laundry room was tiny. Cluttered. Unheated. I froze in the winter and sweated in the summer. I also used it as a hiding place for all the junk that needed to disappear quickly if we were having company. It was ridiculously convenient to the kitchen, so anything out of place was tossed into the laundry room.

I love doing laundry now. Well, truthfully—I just hate it a lot less.

Everyone's favorite feature is the laundry shoot from the kids' bathroom. They have much fun throwing things down the chute and yelling to me when I'm hanging out with the washer and dryer.

I'm just waiting for Mikey to use the laundry shoot as an escape route.

Next: Kids' Bathroom

 

I feel a little bad about stealing space from the kids' bathroom. But only a little. 

 

After all, they are small people. They use less space. And they'll stay small forever, because I say so. 

However, they did score a rockin' great tub. 

 

Our previous tubs were tiny. I never took a bath, because if I'm going to invest the time and energy to soak—I want to feel relaxed and stress-free afterward. Our tub made me feel like a Beluga whale in a kiddie pool. So, we scrapped the master bath tub in favor of a shower-only space and planned a really good, soaking tub for the kids' bath. A bath that would bring pleasure. A bath that would give Mom much needed Calgon-moments.

Ahhh.

I still haven't indulged. I haven't had time. But I can dream...

Master Bath:

What can I say? Our new bathroom makes me happy. It's soul soothing. 

 

Peter and I each have our own sinks, so we no longer fuss at each other over toothpaste globs or stubble. Yes, it was a major, wall-moving, head-scratching, where should we put the toilet ordeal. Yes, I sacrificed space from my closet. But it forced me to pare down my wardrobe. Truly, I don't see size 4s in my future anytime soon.

Or ever.

Sigh. I'll be happy to see single digits again.

 

One of the amazing highlights of the master bath project: walking in the bedroom to find five contractors picnicking on our bedroom floor. A friend asked why I didn't pop open some wine and join them.

I wish I had been brave enough to take a photo of the picnic. 

With the bathrooms pretty much finished, we moved onto Phase Two:

The kitchen. 

For added fun, we installed new flooring throughout the entire first floor of the house. Have you ever installed all new flooring? If you're considering it, take my advice.

Move. It's easier.

Renovation, Round Two:

Here's the before...

 

A strange, view blocking design. Nowhere to eat in...or to move. Dark. Dank. Sad.

 

Kitchen Demolition. 

Fun with hammers. 

 

Never have I been so thrilled to see our kids destroying things. Chris, our contractor, provided a hammer and let them vandalize the former laundry room wall. I'm sure OSHA wouldn't approve of his plan, but the kids sure had a good time.

Perhaps I should have rethought the flip-flops, though. Not the best demolition garb.

In one day, all of the kitchen ugliness was ripped out and thrown into the dumpster.

 

I think I cried tears of happiness--especially over the crusty old cooktop. (The blue wall shows the former laundry room area.)

And, after two months of eating out, TA DA! Here's the new kitchen:

Our goal was to open up the kitchen so that we can cook together as a family. We added natural light—windows, skylight—and many additional recessed lights and work lights. 

We planned a breakfast nook—something cozy, where we could sit and talk, do homework, drink wine, eat quick dinners. 

 

We added storage into the benches for those weird, odd-shaped cooking tools we all need but rarely use: fondue pots, racalet grills, turkey platters, woks. 

Just as we were celebrating the completion of the bench, we discovered that the bench was too high for our legs to fit under the new kitchen table. Peter's legs dangled. Our cabinet contractor's response? “That's standard height.” Standard height my ass. Even non-contractor me could find the standard height for benches online.

The bench was torn out and re-installed. Ah, I bet she curses the day that Al Gore invented the Internet...

We wanted a useable, functional, fun gathering place. Everyone lingers in the kitchen—even in our old, nasty kitchen. We wanted a social, streamlined, practical, centralized kitchen.

It was a bumpy process. Seriously. Drawings not to scale. Cabinet installation that looked like someone drank too much wine before hanging doors. Electricians without a clue about installing appliances. One of the highlights was watching Peter—with his Swiss-German accent—explain in English to a non-English speaking plumber how to correctly install the dishwasher. I think Peter assumed that by increasing his volume, a language barrier breakthrough would occur, allowing the fellow to understand the difference between “front” and “back.” I had to leave the room, because I was laughing until I snorted. Truly. It bordered on hysterical laughter of the insane.

(By the way—our dishwasher still doesn't work. But I digress.)

After two months without a kitchen, what's a few more days without an operational dishwasher, right? It's coming today...supposedly with it's own installer.

I hope he speaks English.

During our adventures in remodeling, Peter and I learned a lot. We knew that Brazilian hardwood wasn't an option for us. I mean, it's gorgeous, but I have a Greenpeace membership. Gotta protect the rain forests. I was determined that we were going to install environmentally friendly, sustainable bamboo flooring throughout the house—until we looked at several issues. 

First, natural bamboo, which we loved, wouldn't hold up well with our pups. Natural bamboo, while harder than many woods, is pretty soft on the Janka scale. The heavy-duty “strand” bamboo is a manufactured product that includes quite some resins, which dulls its “green-ness.” Then, add in the issue of its origin—Asia--and the carbon footprint incurred by its travel had us questioning how green bamboo flooring is. We were told that it wouldn't meet LEED requirements in our area...not that we're looking to become LEED certified, but it made us think.

So instead, we opted for local hickory. 

 

Is it the perfect solution? Not sure. Here's what I know: it's darn hard and resists scratching. It didn't travel far. I say a little prayer that it's not harvested from some mountaintop mining operation. (If only this wood could talk.)

I also know that we love it.

After scraping paint off new appliances, reminding flooring installers that perhaps they might want to finish nailing some pieces in place and fill in nail holes with a matching color, and negotiating a replacement door for our refrigerator, which now sports a nice large dent after an encounter with a granite counter top, I am in kitchen love.

Love.

I can't wait to pull out my Alice Waters cook books and create scrumptious, fresh from the ugly garden meals.

But first I had to paint the bedroom, foyer, office, and hallway. I truly hope I never need to support my family by painting, because we will starve. 

Now, I need to find where I stashed the cook books...

Seriously. If you are considering renovation...

just move.

It's much, much easier.

So, my friends, that's what we did on our summer vacation. How about you? To put you in the back-to-school spirit, please share your “What I did on my summer vacation” theme! I need to live vicariously through your summer fun!

Off to unpack the boxes...

Have a lovely weekend! And for those of you in Irene's path—stay safe.

XOXO ~

Julie

One down, 11 to go...

It’s official--we’ve survived more than a month of our family’s eco-experiment! Here’s a quick review of the highs and lows from the month:

High:
Our increased commitment to composting and recycling reduced our trash production enormously. Previously, our family produced a 13-gallon bag of trash per day--at least--even though we recycled the obvious items like newspaper, plastic bottles, and Diet Coke cans. On average, we now produce approximately two trash bags per WEEK. We could seriously eliminate one trash pick up day, if that option is available.

Low:
While our trash heading to the landfill significantly decreased, we still produce lots of waste that needs to be recycled. While I consider that a better alternative, I’d like us to reduce our amount of waste overall so that we’re not contributing so much energy consumption for recycling.

High:
Eco-produce bags. Love them. Love the perplexed looks I get when the cashiers ring up my veggies and I can explain to anyone within ear shot about reducing plastic bags. I also feel less hypocritical when buying beautiful, organic produce at Farmer’s Market--we’ve basically eliminated plastic produce bags from our lives.

Low:
I’m consuming (i.e. produce bags, Sigg bottles) in order to become more environmentally friendly. Such an oxymoron...

High:
I’m learning to cook...and actually enjoy it, most of the time. I’ve always cooked the basics, but I resented it. I’ve fought hard to avoid becoming the stereotypical suburban ‘50s housewife, since I always aspired to greater things. We’ve spent a lot of time and money eating out. Honestly, though, what’s more important than feeding my family healthy (most of the time) food?

Now, I’m beginning to change my relationship with cooking. There’s a fabulous quote from Barbara Kingsolver’s memoir, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, the story of her family’s quest to eat locally for a year. Kingsolver visits a Lebanese market and begins a conversation with a cheesemaker about the techniques to produce Middle Eastern cheeses. The cheesemaker is puzzled by her interest, until Kingsolver admits to making cheese at home.

“‘You make cheese yourself,’ she repeatedly reverently. ‘You are a real housewife.’
“It has taken me decades to get here, but I took that as a compliment,” writes Kingsolver. Like Kingsolver, I’m beginning to value my inner domestic goddess.

Low:
Trying to find local foods at Whole Foods. During the official No-Impact Week challenge, we blew the challenge to eat locally. Well, we ate LOCALLY at Fuddrucker’s...but I don’t think, somehow, that was the intention. The next day, I was determined to prepare all of our meals from local food and providers. Unfortunately, I had missed Farmer’s Market the week prior, so off I ventured to Whole Foods, certain I’d find plenty of local options. $187 later, the only truly local food I found was zucchini, squash, and cucumbers. The meat options included “regional” foods that had traveled at least 3+ hours. If I was only after organic food, I would have been set...but finding organic and local was impossible.

I made sure to visit Farmer’s Market the following Saturday.

High:
I love supporting local growers and producers. Knowing the people who produce our food is a fabulous feeling. Plus, people who grow things, whether it’s cabbage, sunflowers, or sausage, are just nice people.

Low:
It takes planning to prepare a local meal. I’ve always been a convenience shopper. Out of lettuce? Run to Publix. Too tired to cook? Let’s go out. Now, I need to think about our meals. I can’t just run to the store for chicken. (Well, I CAN, I’m just trying not to.) I need to visit Native Meats at the Farmer’s Market or pre-order from them for delivery. (Which is an amazingly cool option they provide. Place an order for a certain dollar amount--I think about $45--and they’ll deliver your order to your home. Love it. www.nativemeats.com

My other issue is--I’m seduced by the beautiful produce grown by Parson’s Produce. I’ll stock up on three different eggplant varieties...then have no idea how to prepare them. Produce moldering in the refrigerator is not eco-friendly nor respectful--toward the person who grew it, toward my family for wasting money, and especially not toward people who don’t have enough to eat.

So--I’ve once again made a purchase: Eating Well in Season, a beautiful cookbook with delicious seasonal recipes. I’m hoping it helps me turn into Julia Child of the locavore movement.

High:
Great ideas for environmentally friendly Halloween treat bags.

Low:
Painting 35 recyclable paper bags orange. I don’t think I’ll pursue that fine idea next year.

High:
We are raising little environmentalists. Kristen and Michael both identify the recycling symbol on the bottom of containers. They remember to use the compost bowl for food scraps that aren’t meat (the dogs get those), they know not to throw out paper but to put it in the recycling container, and I’m even beginning to win the battle to get them to turn off the lights when they leave a room. Granted, they knew all of this before...but because we’re pursuing our project together, as a family, it’s turn into a game instead of a nagging chore.

Isn’t that the goal of becoming more environmentally responsible? We’re working to preserve the environment so Kristen, Michael, and Tyler’s kids will have the chance to enjoy hiking and playing in nature as much as our kids do...

I’m willing to learn to cook and haul away recycling if it means my grandkids have a chance to play in clean oceans.

Low:
There is no low.

OK, back to work! Let’s see what surprises the next month will have for us...

Can You Supersize It?

Day 4 of the Official No Impact Experiment.

Today’s challenge: Food.

I love food.

I love local food. I adore the Farmer’s Market, the sense of community, talking with those dedicated folks who eschew the big bucks in lieu of a more meaningful life. People with amazing knowledge and tough jobs--sustaining our families with fresh, healthy, drug-hormone-pesticide-free food.

I grow heirloom vegetables. Take a look at one day’s harvest this summer:


I sell heirloom vegetable plants. I’m a composting, seed-obsessed former PR girl turned farmer-wanna be. So today’s challenge to eat locally was a piece of cake, right?

More like a Twinkie.

Here’s what the Adolfs ate today:

Breakfast:

• Farm-fresh, free-range organic eggs--the yolks for the dogs, the white for us. So far, so good.
• Biscuits. Before you nominate me for Mom-of-the-Year, you need to know--they were from a can. Pillsbury. I'm not sure how many miles those biscuits traveled, but they sure weren’t from around here. (“I know where my breakfast came from,” said Peter. “Our oven. How much more local can it be?” Ha, ha...what a funny guy.) I suppose we could have gone to Krispy Kreme, watched them make donuts, and eaten them “Hot and Ready Now.” Our breakfast would have been just as local, I suppose...maybe more so.
• Pear for Kristen. Not local, I’m sure--although it was from our local Publix.
• Diet Coke for me...yep, still haven’t kicked the habit, but I haven’t gone back to the wicked cans.

Lunches for Kids:

• Sliced cheddar cheese--nope, not local.
• Cookies...damn, there’s that Pillsbury again.
• Cheez-Its. Now, that’s healthy.
• Applesauce in a plastic cup for Kristen, mixed fruit for Michael.
• Not one bite of local food in those lunch boxes.

Lunch for Peter and Me:

• Wednesdays are our “lunch dates”--I work with him at our company in the a.m. while Mikey’s at preschool, then we go out for lunch. We really tried to find a restaurant serving local food. Really. Instead, we ate at a new Mediterranean place, Sahara. Nothing local there, but it was yummy. Lamb, hummus, rice...mmmmm.

Snack for kids:

• Leftover homemade apple pie made with (you guessed it) Pillsbury Crust. Fortunately, the apples originated at Nivens’ Apple Farm, only about 10 minutes from our house. Whew.

Dinner

• Fuddrucker’s.
• Yes, you read that right--big, fat, greasy cheeseburgers, hotdog for Mikey, chicken tenders for Kristen. Fries for all.

Oh.

What happened?

Just this week, I bragged about my homemade pesto created from the last of our basil. I’ve made three batches of tomato sauce from our more than 80 heirloom tomato plants. I shop at the Farmer’s Market. I search out local producers, we pick berries and freeze them, I drive to Woodruff for free-range chicken and eggs, I own a food mill, for goodness sakes! How did we screw up so badly today?

Here’s my epiphany:

It’s hard work to eat locally.

I hate to admit it, but it’s true. You need to get your butt out of bed on Saturday mornings to visit the Farmer’s Market. You must learn to cook seasonal food--some of which might be outside your comfort zone. Did I know how to cook Thai eggplant before my farmer friend gave me some tips? Nope, I didn’t even know what that funky little veggie was.

If you’re not a vegetarian--and we’re omnivores at our house--you need to track down local providers of sustainably raised, humanely treated, drug-free meat...and not think too much about those chickens looking at you. You’ll also be shelling out more money for this food. The good news is--your local farmer actually gets to keep some of this money to reinvest in sustainable farming, rather than your money disappearing into the mega agri-corporations that shortchange farmers and hire lobbyists so they can continue to produce sub-par food.

Once you’ve gathered your produce and hunted for your meat--you’re still not done.

You have to cook it. You need to create a meal.

We are creatures of convenience. It’s become a necessity. Most families consist of dual career parents with kids that are scheduled to the max--schoolwork, soccer, ballet, piano, religion classes, baseball, football, volunteering...it’s a finely-oiled family machine that ensures everyone gets to their activities on time. Of course, it’s easier to eat at Fuddrucker’s after a busy day of work, piano lessons for two, horseback riding for one...especially when riding ends at 7 p.m. Should we head home (a 40-minute drive), start preparing a lovely, locally produced meal and feed the kids at 8:30 or 9 p.m...or cram some crap into them so they can get to bed at a decent time?

Well. You know our decision.

I’m not proud of us today. The thing is--I only work outside our home one morning per week. Sure, I have plenty of work with my heirloom plant business, but at least I’m home--where I can multitask, cooking local food while ordering seeds. I can get the family fed with healthful, local food and still get the kids in bed before midnight.

I have the time to hunt and gather.

Still, I remember too well the stress of working full-time and trying to feed a picky-eater. Tyler’s diet during those days consisted of hot dogs, Kraft Macaroni-and-Cheese (in various shapes for variety, like Pokemon), and chicken nuggets. Oh--and ketchup. Surprisingly, he turned out to be a pesto-eating, bruschetta-loving healthy young adult.

I suppose the point to this rambling is...

We’re having a do-over. Tomorrow. We’re going to eat locally if it kills us. As my faithful sidekick (aka husband) pointed out today, we’re taking part in the No Impact Experiment for a year, not just this week. Hopefully, Wednesdays will be our only blip in the local-food endeavor. Also, we’re just muddling through and trying our best.

Today wasn’t our best effort. But it’s life. We’ll be better tomorrow.

Speaking of tomorrow--I’m going to post some terrific local producers for you to check out. Some you can meet at the Hub-City Farmer’s Market, some you need to take a field-trip to find...but you’ll be glad you did! If you are ga-ga over certain local farmers, please share your faves here!

Until tomorrow,

Bon appetit!

Juice boxes, part deux.

I’ve found the perfect juice box that is fully recyclable, economical, and manufactured using 85% less packaging than its counterpart. The best part is:

It’s for us. The grownups.

“Cask” wine is the preferred term for the Bag-in-Box (BIB) products we’ve seen creeping onto the shelves of grocery stores and big box retailers like Target. I’ve blatantly ignored them.

Until now.

I’m not a wine snob. Really. Well, maybe a little bit. It’s not as if I really know much about wine, I simply find a few that I like and stick with them. Pinot Noir is my favorite fall/winter wine, and Pinot Grigio is my spring/summer wine. I’m a sucker for label design. If it’s an interesting label, I’ll try it. If it’s about $10, I’ll buy it. If it’s Italian, I’ll love it. See how logically I make my wine selections?

Perhaps my wine expertise stems from my early career days, as a young marketing girl in the big, exciting publishing world. My friend, Katie, and I spent a lot of time discussing lipstick shades when we probably should have been writing press releases or some other nonsense. Anyway, we were thrilled when our company ousted the current male publisher and brought on board a bright, young female publisher. A mentor! Someone to guide us in growing our careers in the (then) male-dominated publishing world!

I remember how impressed I was when, during an author dinner, our new publisher effortlessly ordered wine for the table. “Simi Chardonnay,” she commanded. I was awed by her knowledge of wine.

Well, after numerous dinners where she ordered “Simi Chardonnay” for everyone, I realized that her knowledge of wine was about as vast as her knowledge of publishing. She lasted six months.

In my mind, I equate a lovely bottle of wine, complete with a beautifully designed label, as tasting delicious. Now, you know and I know that’s crap. It’s all about the grape...and the soil where it grew...and the weather...and the harvest time...and...and...and...

Anyway, I just haven’t been able to get myself to buy a box of wine. It seems too collegiate to me, like I’m going to a kegger and the frat boys made sure to have some boxes of wine for the prissy girls who didn’t drink beer. (Note to Tyler: I never drank before I was 21, and you better not either!!! Ahem.)

So, I’ve snubbed the boxes and continued buying bottles of wine. I’m sad to say Peter and I can no longer finish a bottle in one evening without feeling pain the next day. Sometimes we save it, but often the remaining wine gets dumped.

Perhaps it’s time to try a cask. All in the name of research for our family project, of course.

First of all--and some might say most importantly--the engineering of the cask is ideal for people like us. We like a glass of wine with dinner or after the kids go to bed, but we don’t consume the entire bottle. The design of the cask prevents oxidation--the vacuum-sealed bag protects wine from air exposure. As the wine is poured, the bag collapses on itself without letting air reach the wine. The specially designed spigot prevents air from contacting the wine until poured, which ensures the wine’s quality. The packaging preserves the wine’s flavor and freshness for a minimum of six weeks. “The last glass is always as good as the first,” states the Better Wines, Better World website. (www.betterwinesbetterworld.com)

How’s the quality? Approximately 99% of the wine sold in the U.S. is considered table wine--that is, it can be consumed as soon as it is released into the market. Only a small minority of wine is “aged.” For many wine producers, the packaging is the only difference in their bottled versus box wines. The production methods are exactly the same--except packaging.

We’ve all seen the movies where the pretentious actor swirled his wine and declared to the wine steward that it “tasted of cork.” Did you know that approximately 5% of wine is affected by cork taint? That results in the disposal of more than 40 Olympic-sized swimming pools full of wine. An additional benefit of the cask packaging? No cork taint.

What about the value? An average bottle of wine costs approximately $9. An average cask contains the same volume of wine as four bottles. The average price per box? Approximately $19. For good stuff. Yum.

Now, here’s the real kicker and the reason I’m finally thinking about boxed wine: environmental impact.

The Bag-in-Box packaging generates less than 1/2 the carbon footprint of glass wine bottles. The energy used to produce the packaging and to transport the wine is significantly less than required for glass bottles. BIBs result in 85% less packaging waste than glass, eliminating the heavy glass bottle, capsule, neck band, cork, front label and back label. If all of the consume-upon-release wines sold in the U.S. were converted to BIB packaging, we would save 1.5 million tons of carbon dioxide per year, which would be the equivalent of removing 250,000 cars from the roads.

Additionally, while glass wine bottles are recyclable, more energy is necessary to recycle four bottles versus one cardboard box. The bag is also recyclable with #7 plastics.

So, in the interest of research, I’m going to pick up some wine. In a box.

I’ll let you know how it is...

And, for my book club friends, I think I might have a little box wine sampling Friday night to get your opinions.

What do you drink? Box or bottle? What would you think if a friend showed up with a box of wine versus a bottle for a party? Would you think “Cheapo” or “Eco-Goddess”? And, would you willingly drink wine from a box?

I’ll let you know what my testers say...

Cheers!

All or nothing...

Sustainable. Locavore. Carbon footprint.

I'm all for it. Really. My blood runs green. It does.

I compost.

I raise heirloom plants.

I own a Prius.

What got me thinking about our Greenism is this:

A friend and I went to see the movie, Fresh. Now, for those of you who don't know about this fine film honoring the local farmer, a quick warning...do not plan to go out for dinner afterward, especially for chicken.

I knew what I was getting into by seeing the film, but hey--I had been housebound with sick kids all week. Two hours to sit quietly with a glass of wine versus listening to my sweet kiddos whines--it appealed to me.

Of course, after watching the film, I swore I would never eat mass-produced food again, I would patronize the local farmer, I would eradicate all of the bad choices I make on a daily basis and SAVE THE WORLD.

Then I went home, had a Diet Coke and an Oreo.

But I digress...

What really made me think about our Greenism was the conversation that followed the film. A terrific group of panelists shared their reactions to the film and answered questions from the audience. Panel members included a young, local farmer who grows his produce using sustainable, natural methods. He's like a rock-star of arugula and a genuinely nice guy. A former professor shared lovely muscadines with the audience from his berry farm. A husband and wife team that provides hormone-free, antibiotic-free meats got a little earthy and read some poetry. Plus there was a professor from Clemson, a horticultural powerhouse of a university. These individuals truly know their stuff...they don't preach, they don't instill guilt, they are just good people doing their jobs and helping the environment at the same time.

But as the discussion opened for "questions," a few audience members felt the need to showcase their vast knowledge of environmental doomsday-ness. Listening to the spewed statistics about petrochemicals used in farming (which this panel does not USE, lady!), I found myself tuning out.

Which is my point.

Why is there this disconnent between living a green life and, well, living? Why do some individuals feel the need for Green superiority, when some of us are just trying to do the best we can to positively impact the environment?

Shouldn't there be an easier way to make lifestyle changes that support a healthy environment without expending tremendous amounts of time and money?

And how can the average mom, one who works, volunteers, runs the kids to karate, soccer, piano, you name it...how can she guide her family on the path to Green-ness without breaking the grocery budget and adding more stress to an already stress-filled life?

How can I do this?

So, in the blog-honored tradition of Julie Powell, my task in the next year is this:

I plan to minimize my family's impact on the environment. I'll keep track of what works, what doesn't, and hopefully find some useful tips to share. I won't preach, I won't be perfect, and God knows, I'll never be No Impact Man...but we're going to try. A little bit every day.

Hope you'll join me for the adventure!

Julie