Chloe, our 11-month-old pup, chewed my favorite canvas, reusable shopping bag. Because it’s a rainy Monday and the dogs are spending the day inside with me while I attempt to write, I’m not even taking the bag away from her. The damage is done. And, since I’m out of the big chew bones that normally occupy her on rainy days...the bag is keeping her busy and out of my hair. I hope that gives you a sense of atmosphere for my morning...plus my Facebook account is “unavailable due to site maintenance”--since yesterday. Yeesh...
So, last week I promised that I’d look into the juice box dilemma. Even before the launch of our family eco-initiative, Peter complained about juice boxes. Perhaps his irritation stemmed from those little cellophane straw wrappers that our children tend to leave everywhere. Or maybe it had something to do with the day Mikey, playing firefighter, squeezed his apple juice box as hard as he could to “put out a fire” on the living room carpet. Whatever the reason, I continued to buy juice boxes because...well, let’s face it. They’re convenient. Grab and go. Also, the kids can get their own drinks from the fridge without spilling a pitcher of lemonade on the floor or summoning me. Plus, honestly, what are the alternatives when you need to send snacks for soccer games or class parties?
With more than 100 billion juice boxes manufactured annually, I suppose I’m not alone with my juice box infatuation.
While I’m a major purchaser of juice boxes, I do feel guilt. My issue with juice boxes is the lack of recycling opportunities. We can't chuck them in the recycling bin with the newspapers or the milk jugs. Juice boxes are considered aseptic containers, which means they’re produced under sterile conditions, and the contents require no refrigeration or preservatives to remain germ-free. The good news is: aseptic containers incur less energy costs per unit during transport. The box design allows more units per truckload versus bottles, and there’s no energy expended for refrigeration. Proponents of juice boxes also cite the relatively low ratio of packaging weight to product: 4% for juice boxes versus 30-40% for glass bottles, which means less resources expended in manufacturing and less packaging clogging landfills. So far, so good.
However, a typical juice box is comprised of:
Six layers of paper, 24%
Polyethylene, 70%
Aluminum foil, 6%
Additionally, each juice box contains a plastic straw, wrapped in the lovely cellophane. Juice boxes are sold in packs of six or more, so they’re wrapped in a cardboard sleeve, printed with the marketing info, and then shrink-wrapped.
Now, we have a problem.
Besides the extraneous material, there are only a few states that provide recycling for juice boxes. South Carolina isn’t one of them. If you feel like driving to Raleigh, NC....they offer juice box recycling. Let me know if you’re going, I’ll send some juice boxes with you.
Recycling juice boxes isn’t an easy process. Through “hydrapulping,” paper is separated from polyethylene and ground into pulp, which can then be used for recycled paper products.
Or, if you’re really crafty, you can recycle a juice box into an iPod case (see www.cultofmac.com).
Hmm. Maybe I’ll make one for Peter. His birthday is next month.
The Aseptic Packaging Council, an organization for producers of aseptic products, states on its website that they are working to increase the number of locations that provide juice box recycling. You can go to the website (www.aseptic.org) and check to see if there is juice box recycling in your area. Maybe call a local politician, promise your vote in exchange for juice box recycling in your community.
OK, so that still doesn’t answer the big question: what do I send to Mikey’s soccer game or Kristen’s class Halloween party?
It’s a sad fact that the world is a little too scary for any parent to be 100% comfortable with a non-packaged drink given to a child by a stranger. If I were to show up at soccer with a pitcherful of homemade lemonade and some reusable cups that I could take home and wash...what would those parents think? Would they fear the “unknown” in the drink? Would they think I'm a scary soccer-mom? And what if I substitute homemade chocolate chip cookies for the individually packaged, safely sealed Oreos?
What would be your reaction?
Anyway...there is some good news. TerraCycle offers a recycling program for juice pouches, like Capri Sun and Honest Kids. TerraCycle, the brainchild of a 19-year-old Princeton student, began as an organic fertilizer company and now is a multi-category, eco-friendly powerhouse committed to reducing waste. Schools and not-for-profit organizations can earn up to $.02 per redeemed juice pouch. (www.TerraCycle.net/brigades) That’s $.20 per carton of Capri Sun. While it’s not enough financial support to end the educational budget crisis, it does contribute a bit of cash to schools and resolves the juice pouch recycling conundrum. Turn your kids' juice pouches into pencil cases! Tote bags! It’s the new eco chic! Check out the products they make with the recycled juice pouches.
While not ideal, I suppose I can enroll Kristen’s school in the program and send Capri Sun to the party. And, of course, I can always send water bottles for soccer--at least we can recycle them. In the next few weeks, I’m going to take a field trip to see how bottles are recycled--thanks to my friend, Brandy. Juice boxes are out at our house, except for the remaining few in the refrigerator. We’ve switched to reusable Sigg bottles for our on-the-go drink needs, and around the house we reuse plastic Zaxby’s kids’ cups with lids. It’s embarrassing how many Zaxby’s kids’ cups are lurking in the cabinets...
Here’s the scoreboard so far:
Diet Coke cans: 0 Diet Coke 2-liter bottles: 2 (I know...I’m working on it.) Juice boxes: banished San Pellegrino bottles: also banished
Yes, beginning today, my darling husband announced that he’s giving up his beloved imported Italian sparkling water to contribute to the cause. Isn’t he a good sport?
And for those of you who worry about Tyler’s water needs at Furman (aka Aunt Becky), we bought him a BPA-free water bottle. It’s very cool and hip. He promises to use it. We’ll see.
So, we’re on the path to healthier, more environmentally friendly choices for our drinks. Now, we’re tackling food. Can the Adolf family become locavores? Stay tuned...
Last night--surprisingly--we heard from our oldest son, Tyler. Ty is loving the life of a college student, which is why I don’t overreact when he forgets to call or respond to my text messages. I’m trying to relax and let go...but it’s a challenge. Fortunately, he’s attending school only 45 minutes from home. Unfortunately, I promised him that we wouldn’t infringe on his freedom if he chose Furman. We’ve been upholding our end of the deal with no surprise campus visits or irrational demands for babysitting help on weekends.
But this weekend is Parents’ Weekend. HA! He has no choice! We’re spending Saturday on campus, with promises to feed him well off-campus.
So, being the loving mother I am, I ask him if he needs us to bring anything.
“No, I’m good. Except can you pick up a 24-pack of bottled water?”
Ummm...
No.
I can’t.
Well, of course I COULD, but you know I can’t.
Here’s the thing: even though I know my son is a smart, reasonable young man...and I know that water bottles are recyclable...I doubt that he will actually recycle them. I mean really, nothing against Ty--at home, he’s really a pretty good recycler. But we’ve all been 18, and 18-year-old college students possess other priorities than ensuring plastic bottles end up in the recycling container. I know he’s much more evolved than I was at 18 (thank god.) Still...I can’t make the purchase when we’ve just started this project. And I’m a little surprised that he would ask me.
Oh, wait...I never told Ty about the project! I fill him in, telling him to check out the blog and figure out how he can participate in the family project. His response is--underwhelming.
Of course, I want to pamper my away-from-home son. Cookies are baking as I type. But with Furman being a prototype for sustainability, as well as my commitment to eliminate--or at least significantly reduce--bottles and cans in our lives, I can’t provide the one thing my son requested. Ah, a mother’s guilt.
Our drinking water is good--in fact, it’s some of the best in the country. Now if only it were more--convenient. Portable.
How about using a travel mug? A non-disposable water bottle? A glass? What novel ideas.
The irony in this story is:
I just bought bottled water. On Monday.
I know, I know. I suck.
Did I mention that along with my family’s environmental experiment, Peter and I are also trying to recover the lost bodies of our youth? We’re trying to eat more healthfully, cook more, eat out less, generate less take-out trash, and exercise. He’s doing really well. He started the P90X workout last night, and he’s still standing today. I’m supposed to be exercising right now. Oh well.
Anyway, I’ve made an effort to visit local farms or farmers’ market for our eggs, meat, and produce, but some staples I needed from Publix. As I unloaded my cart full of yummy, healthy food, the adorably sweet Publix checkout lady asked if I would like the penny item.
Sure, I told her, searching for my debit card. I love the Publix penny items. Such good savings! Such excellent treats, never junk!
Yep, I went home with a 6-pack of bottled water for $.01.
Damn.
I suppose I could fulfill 1/4 of Ty’s request and give him the accidentally-purchased bottles. I could make him swear that they won’t end up in the landfill.
The bottled water dilemma and the Diet Coke rehab leads to my next worry...all of those juice boxes we trash. What can I do to start eliminating those lovely little non-recyclable boxes of convenience without causing a coup among the small fry? How does a mom provide snacks and drinks for school parties or soccer games without contributing to the hole in the ozone?
I think I’d better go Google “juice boxes.”
And finally, for those of you wonderful friends who are worrying about my caffeine deprivation: I must confess to two glasses of the evil DC this a.m. Still can-free, though. I can't wait for the day I can tell you that I'm completely clean. I’m working on it...thanks for the ideas and support!
I thought we’d play a game today, to celebrate the kick-off of the Adolf family’s “green” project. Winner gets a prize.
Can you guess how many cans of Diet Coke I’ve consumed over the past two weeks?
Enter your guess in the “Comments” area, and I’ll announce the winner as soon as I count the cans awaiting recycling in the garage.
So, today is the day that I am ending my obsession with Diet Coke.
At least with cans.
The problem with a cold-turkey approach to ending my love affair with that delicious burst of bubbles and caffeine is that I’m fearful I can’t make it through the day. I’m not a coffee drinker, I stay up far too late reading and get up far too early, but still need to wear my game-face for the kids. I need that caffeine.
Is there a 12-step program for this?
Anyway, residing in my fridge is a two-liter bottle. I’m sipping a bit in a glass as I type. The cans are gone, but I’m not perfect...I have to wean myself, and I’m hoping it won’t take long. Once the truth is out about how much DC I used to consume...you’ll understand and take pity on me. I hope.
Although I still negatively impacted the environment by purchasing that plastic Diet Coke bottle, I’m slowly trying to redeem myself. Over the course of my life, I’ve had a LOT of Diet Coke. In cans. Yes, I recycle those cans. But the energy needed to manufacture the can and then recycle it disturbs me. Factor in the energy consumed in driving to the store just for Diet Coke--which I have been known to do on many occasions. (How could I possibly function without my crack--I mean, caffeine?) Now, let’s add in the packaging that keeps those cans from rolling around the car. Yes, I also recycle the cardboard boxes, but still...it takes energy to produce them, as well as energy to recycle them.
So I’m feeling pretty self-righteous about my two-liter plastic bottle.
Actually, I’m not. I really feel like crap about it.
This morning, as I was getting Kristen and Mikey ready for school and doing all of those crazy morning things we moms do...I was trying to make a very conscious effort to be aware of what I was throwing in the trash versus what I recycled. We recycle. We do.
But sometimes it’s just easier to throw the trash away. Off you go, trash, clog up the landfill, because the clutter is driving me nuts! Just get out of my house!
As I was getting the kids’ clothes from their rooms, I ripped off some prices tags. It’s gotten chilly here this week, time to whip out the new clothes. I threw the tags in the trash.
Ummm...
Paper is definitely recyclable. I took it out.
Mikey finished his yogurt. I let the dog lick the cup, then threw it in the trash.
Then thought about it.
Yep, there’s that triangle on the bottom.
What about the little plastic cup from the Crystal Light lemonade mix? It’s plastic, no triangle...recycle or not?
And suddenly Kristen is late for school.
Right now, there is a pile of plastic and paper items sitting on the kitchen counter. Clutter on the kitchen counter in the a.m. when I’m trying to get everyone out of the house absolutely drives me ape-shit. But I can’t throw it away.
We’re trying to be green-er.
I did manage to get the scraps out to the compost bucket, though. Yea me.
I’m truly humbled. And kind of embarrassed.
Honestly, I thought we were good environmentalists. Not crazy ones, but I really thought we did everything we could to minimize trash by recycling. One hour into our project, I realized how little I personally recycle.
If it’s convenient, I recycle.
If I have time, I recycle.
If it’s obvious, I recycle.
Hmm.
So, as the matriarch of the family, I’ve got to step it up. I must lead my family by example. The Diet Coke, in all forms (except fountain drinks at restaurants in glasses), must go.
Tomorrow.
Here’s my question, without any judgments (who am I to judge anyone?):
Do you recycle? And, if you recycle, how much percentage-wise do you think you recycle compared to your normal garbage output? No scientific calculations necessary...guesstimates work. I’m going to try to calculate our family’s recycling percentage for a week. Should be--enlightening (or frightening).
Until then, if anyone has a good cure to counteract the lack-of-caffeine headache I will have tomorrow...please let me know!
Did I mention that I hadn’t consulted my family about “our” project?
Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce the players in the “Let’s Get Green!” game:
Peter Adolf. Heralds from Switzerland. Came to Spartanburg for business. Thought he’d be here for two years, max. Twelve years, one wife, one new biz, and three kids later...he’s still here. Thank god.
Julie Thompson-Adolf. Haus frau extraordinaire. Former PR/writer girl gone granola. Would rather dig in the dirt than get a manicure. Grower of heirloom vegetables and flowers, seller of heirloom plants. Owner of Garden Delights. Child-wrangler.
Tyler. Eldest son, 18. Not sure yet how Ty will fit into our project, as he’s currently away at the country club--I mean, Furman University. Seriously, though--what college student’s dorm room offers a lake view? Bradley University certainly didn’t offer lake views. Furman is a model for sustainability, though, so perhaps we’ll find a way for Ty’s experience to join the family experiment. Kristen, aka Kiki. Age 8. The girl is animal-crazy. Seriously. I went into labor with her at a pet store, she was that eager to get her hands on some cats. We’re convinced that she is an animal-whisperer. Creatures flock to her. She may be my biggest environmental champion during the project. A true nature lover and sweetheart. I want to freeze her at this age. Michael, aka Mikey. Age 4. Ah, Mikey, our last child. Mikey was a preemie, the doctors gave him steroids to help develop his lungs...and those steroids explain much about Michael. He’s hilarious, wild, loud...and wants nothing more than to do everything Kristen does. You can imagine how well that goes over with Kiki. So, as we finally sat down to dinner last night after work, school, violin lessons, and soccer practice, I thought it might be wise to share my plan to make our family more environmentally committed. Mustering my best PR enthusiasm, I gave them an overview. Silence. Kiki was the first to react. “Does this mean we have to eat more vegetables?” Dramatic groan. Full disclosure: our children hate vegetables. They hate them so much that they should have scurvy. I can sneak some fruits into their mouths, but anything green? You’d think DSS should arrest me for child abuse with they way they cry and fuss. Now, I also hated vegetables when I was a kid/teen/youngish adult...and I still struggle to make them a priority on my plate. My mom cooked meat and potatoes, with an occasional side of frozen nasty veggies. Iceberg lettuce was my green of choice...no dressing. Ironic, isn’t it, considering my heirloom VEGETABLE business? But that’s another day’s blog...the battle of the veggies. I’ll try to stay on topic... Mikey, being Mikey...reacted to Kristen’s reaction...”Ewwww! Disgusting poopy!” Ah, the vocabulary of a 4-year-old... Peter just kept eating. Hmmm. I thought he’d be my champion, rallying the troops to fight global warming, diminish our family’s carbon footprint, save the polar bears. Silence. Here’s the thing: Peter is Swiss. He’s not a trendy do-gooder. The Swiss always think carefully about their impact on the environment. On my first trip to visit my future in-laws, I carried on in my normal, throw-it-in-the-trash-if-it-isn’t-a-newspaper-can-glass bottle tradition. My future father-in-law fished out my recyclable trash...and recycled it. Mortifying. It’s not that every Swiss is a perfect carbonless footprint, completely altruistic to the needs of the earth. It’s also a financial motivation. My in-laws must discard their trash in official state-produced bags, available in three sizes, with the medium bag costing approximately $1.50. They pay for the trash they create. So basically, when I blithely threw away some cardboard, my father-in-law fished it out to save some francs. Cardboard is bulky in those pricey trash bags, but it’s easily recycled for free down the street. The Swiss also think more about packaging. Because of the fees associated with trash, consumers can actually leave their trash behind at the store. The store then incurs the expense of the trash pick-up, which in turn causes retailers to pressure producers to minimize packaging. “So, hon, what do you think?” Peter looks at my can of Diet Coke, sitting on the dinner table. “Are you going to start with these?” He has thrown down the proverbial gauntlet. He knows I love my Diet Coke. Ice cold, no ice. In cans. Crap. It’s been a long standing point of contention between us, my overwhelming love of Diet Coke. In cans. “Yes. I’m going to start with the cans.” He’s shocked. But he’s on board. I think. So October 1, the cans go. The project begins. Let’s see what happens...
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.
