Subject: A regret.

Dear Natural Pastures Cheese Company,

To make a long story short, I am on a life-long challenge to live without plastic and raise awareness about plastic pollution.  As you can appreciate, I choose to shop in specialty stores where my requests are more easily honoured (not to mention I know the secret to where good quality food is sold).  I came to your Courtenay shop/factory to see whether I could get plastic-free cheese, given that you make it less than 10 meters away from the store.  I spoke with the person at the shop, who would not even listen to what I had to say.  She was short and rude with me.  I left.

Last weekend I held a plastic-free workshop for about 40 people from Courtenay.  Participants were very curious about where I shop, but sadly I was not able to recommend your company.  Instead, I sent people to Runge’s fine foods for cheese where they will honour my request for skipping the unnecessary plastic step.  And they are friendly about it too!  Upon a visit there yesterday, they told me that people from the workshop had already come in.

 In a world full of plastic, could you-would you consider offering bulk cheese sales, or better yet, waxed cheeses?  Or at least tell your store staff to be at least a little more understanding?

Sincerely,

Taina Uitto
Denman Island, BC

The little tings.

Since we are visiting Vancouver, Nino and I went out on a date.  Having just come from a post breakup interview with Brandon, where we discussed many-a ruined date due to plastic, I was a little on edge.

Nino and I were in the endless line to get into Antons, a restaurant notorious for heaping servings and hence guaranteed leftovers.  We were finding it hard to stay positive watching the styrofoam** packages wrapped in plastic bags walking out the door in the hands of the oblivious.  Many of the bags also contained bread with accompanying plastic butter dishes!

**Note to WordPress!  I REFUSE to capitalize the word styrofoam! It doesn’t deserve it so please stop underlining it and bringing more attention to it as I write.

I actually had to tell Nino to stop talking about plastic as it was indeed, putting a negative spin on the date.  The final straw was when he told me he had seen a banana in Starbucks with a plastic ad sticker on it for something other than the banana.  I can’t wait for the day my lettuce arrives with a tag on it telling me about a travel deal or something.

We were finally seated and just as the waitress was putting the basket of bread down- with the plastic butter dishes- I told her briskly that “I have a thing about plastic” and to please bring us a basket with some unpackaged butter.   Surely a pasta place has butter!  Just as quickly as she had set the basket down, she whisked it off the table without a word, and returned with my request.

The date continued with a successfully strawless drink, our food placed in our own leftover containers, our dessert simply on a napkin for home and, contrary to everyone around us, no plastic-wrapped candies with the bill.  No fuss, no questions.  Just service.

Before we left I told the waitress how much I appreciated her efforts.  She had made my night and a memorable date.

If only the customer was, in fact, always right.

Un-masked.

I was reminded of something yesterday as I was training up my 12 new plastic-free challengers for 2012 (more on that later).  I was talking about purging plastic from the bathroom, and told everyone that I had kept my mascara as the one “treat” item.

Well, I am happy to report that, two years later, I have finally kicked the habit…and in hindsight, the “treat” concept was a little misguided.

Swimming is wonderful without the burden of worrying that my eyes have drifted to down my cheeks.  My eyes don’t get cruddy bits in them during the day and in the morning, I don’t have to do one of these:

…well, the funny thing is that sometimes I still do out of pure habit…bizarre muscle memory.

The best of all, I can cry generously and rub my eyes equally so.  Oh the freedom!  Once again, something I never knew I missed.

I feel all the more, me.

I searched for the origins of the word marcara, interested where the whole practice of masking ones self in such a fashion came from.  I had to laugh when I came across the Arabic term maskharah or ‘buffoon’.

buffoon [bəˈfuːn]n

1. a person who amuses others by ridiculous or odd behaviour, jokes, etc

2. a foolish person

Let’s go back to the image shall we:

Ladies. Please don’t think I am making fun of anyone but myself.  I totally still enjoy a good application once in a blue moon.  I even once tried dyeing my lashes, but felt so claustrophobic having to keep my eyes closed for several minutes as the stinging, likely toxic, substance seeped into my balls.  Not recommended.  However, the good news is that you can “Macgyver Your Makeup”.  As the fancy holiday parties roll on, perhaps this would be a good time to try it out!

A delicious moment, ruined.

I am sitting by the wood stove.  It’s been a long day.  The store is closed, not that I really wanted to venture too far from the heat source next to me.  I am jonezing for something delicious that our ghetto kitchen does not offer. 

My brother stomps in and remarks happily that he found the box of fuzzy candy peach slices that I had hid in his boot a few days back.  We are both pretty excited.

He pulls the hidden plastic bag out of the box, which by the way, contains way less candies than one would expect from such an overpackage.  How could I have been so sloppy?!  I didn’t even do the squeeze test- you know the one where you squeeze the box for the sound of the offending substance crinkling inside.

Still, I eat my peaches.  Nino’s too.  A brief pleasure.  Sitting here the next day I now notice that my brother forgot his share here- he got the bag- and the bag now contaminates my plastic-free haven loft.  And it will, my earth.

Calling plastic freedom fighters!

Do you live in Metro Vancouver and are ready to make plastic-free your New Year’s resolution??  If so, email me plasticmanners(at)yahoo.ca for more info.  This will be a year-long project, and super worth it.  DO IT.  This is the only time I will tell you NOT to REFUSE.

Homesteading

Greetings from a windy and wet island!  My apologies for falling off the blogwagon, but off-the grid writing has been a challenge during this adjustment period.

We have been living in a camper in the middle of our forest property without power or water since May 1.  I remember going on some weekend camping trip last year and looking at other people’s’ camping wares.  Plastic galore, for convenience, of course!  Oh how that word makes my skin crawl! I am going to dress up as Convenience for Halloween! What would that look like?

Even on this extended camping trip, Nino and I are still pretty darn plastic free.  Our main FAIL! has been tarps for our leaky “home” and shabby outdoor kitchen.  I thought about all sorts of ways around this, but when the skies opened up, we relented.  I can say this however.  It is hideous and makes the camp look like a slum.  And annoying to boot in the epic wind storms that rumble through our jungle.  I can’t wait to be out of tarp phase.

Our other challenge has been to relearn how to shop for food…again.  Contrary to the city, we no longer have every store you possibly hope for within a 10-block radius.  In addition to the once-a-week summer Farmers Market, there is only one general store on the Island, which apart from the local food cooler, is your usual packaged offerings.  Well, even the local produce is often pre-bagged.  This should be an easy fix though; just leave it to me.  I’ll have it deplastified sooner or later!

We go into “town” once a week and don’t have refrigeration.  So you can just imagine.  But there is a will and a way at this camp, and we still eat healthy, good, food- NOT garbage.  Having said that though, cooking isn’t always a picnic.  I had the option of making Nino lentils or lentils for his work lunch this morning.  Neither in a rush, with tarp monster mocking my meager attempts. I went to the local cafe instead, where take out comes in cardboard.  Phew!  Lunch for a hungry guy, and one place that I don’t have to pester.

I have all kinds of stories that have been pent up in this brain, and now that I don’t feel like such a fish out of water, talk again soon!  I hope you’re well and still keeping on keeping on.

In my usual style, a picture to illustrate the problem.  I would send you a picture of our frightening camp, but because I am embarrassed, instead something else scary, provided by someone on the Plastic Crap Wall of Shame on Faceboook.  Boo!

If you don’t know how to use a knife, get a life.

Bone and Boar: A review.

About a year and a half ago, I acquired my trusty Mr. Bone n’ Boar toothbrush.  At first glance, it was kind of strange-looking and, at first gag, it tasted like wet pig.  If you remember, I tried to mask the taste of the pig and powder combo with cinnamon.  The recipe was not a grand success, leaving me with a bad taste in my mouth and poo teeth.  Okay, maybe ‘cinnamon streaked’ would be a more romantic description.

Over time, however, the taste ‘situation’ improved as I tamed the beast.  I got completely used to the look and, as the bristles got a little shorter here and there, I achieved a lovely multi-layered brushing canopy.  Plus I discovered that Lush now makes plastic-free “Toothy Tabs” for toothpaste, so goodbye baking powder.  All was well in my mouth.

Oy.  All was not well for on-lookers!  Friends start commenting on the poor brush, like “Tain, it is horrible looking.” (said with sour face).  My dad, a dentist in addition to dad, was just visiting from Finland and also kept pestering me. “Your teeth look great, but you cannot use this brush anymore. I will buy you a new one.” (said with charming Finnish accent).  Nah dad, I will order a new plastic-free one online when I get around to it…I PROMISE!  There are wooden ones for us Canadians e.g. at Life Without Plastic (thanks Beth!).

But Dad caved at the end of the visit…*prepare brain for reading with Finnish accent again*… “I have bought you a new one.”  Enter Miss Nylon.  Nino agreed. “That’s good Love.  Your other toothbrush was in pretty rough shape.”

Poo again, but OKAY FINE!  I reluctantly apply the “health clause”, which from time to time allows for health concerns to override plastic-free.

Miss Nylon is sleek and colourful.  Her bristles are complex, leaning every which way in various configurations.  She even has rubbery cushions to prevent some kind of brushing-induced callousing, one would imagine. Oh, and in place of Mr. Bone’s drilled string hole (cute! why didn’t I see that before?), the new brush boldly boasts “Oral B”, just so I don’t forget.

The verdict? The overall cleansing experience is like night and day and Miss Nylon certainly knows her stuff.   She is also perhaps a little more kind.  My uncalloused hands rejoice!  However.  Miss Nylon complains: she squeaks annoyingly against my teeth.  Like nails on a chalkboard. Reminding me that there is plastic in my mouth.

A question: what is sufficient?

The language of refuse

I had a great time last night giving a presentation to some 20 ESL students in Vancouver.  After the usual plastics 101 lesson, I had the students practice their refusing skills.  Reluctantly, a few volunteers stepped up with their 1 month to a few year’s experience in English under their belts.

Here, I said, I’ll just give you a straw with that drink.  “No no no!” laughed one of them.  “I have my own!  That is garbage.”  Nicely said.  A plus!  Ok well, at least let me give this little you soy sauce package… “No no no!” chuckled another. You can pour some sauce in….this!” Pulls out a giant glass bottle from my kit.  Awesome.

As I was explaining plastic bags, I realized how much cultural learning might be necessary when it comes to refusing plastic in Canada. “The cashier might insist on giving you a bag, and this might seem strange after you have already said no a few times.  Just be brave and refuse again.” Canadians’ over politeness doesn’t always make sense.

And then further, in hindsight, I reflected that a lot of these students were from Asia, where we happen to ship a lot of our plastic garbage.  These new refusers are now better citizens of both countries.  Neato.

Source: "To be buried under plastic bags and power books" Tree Hugger.com

The worst toy ever

I was in a store lineup listening to a dad explain his kid’s toy to the cashier.   “If you squeeze it, it smells like fruit.”  I panned to the child who was sniffing a soft plastic toy, rather incessantly.   Um, is it me, or is that the WORST TOY EVER?!  I smell phthalate-ridden PVC plastic like that and I get a little dizzy.  Not to mention one spewing some likely-carcinogenic fragrance chemical disguised as fruit!

As they left the store I watched the dad grab hold of the five year old’s hand, presumably to keep him safe.. The boy’s other hand held the toy glued to his nose.

Miss Manners

Most of the times I just rant and ponder the (in)sanity of this all, but we are all in luck this week because of Miss Miranda Manners, the Movie Maker.  She is 11 and she gets it.  In her own words, she feels “very strongly about plastics”.  Rad.

Miranda heard about the Great Pacific Garbage Patch and is “bugged” by the fact that people don’t know the problems with plastics.  She is no fool when it comes to the myth of plastic recycling either, and it drives her crazy when people buy “unnecessary trinkets”.  No joke hey Miranda?  No joke.

Sometimes I feel that my single refusals will never make a difference.  You probably do too.  Meeting Miranda lifted my spirits because she is a strong believer in individual action (99 is not 100, right little miss?), and we all need those reminders now and again.  But also because the future seems just a little ‘brighter’.

Stay tuned for Mirandas next film!