A near meltdown

I have an awful experience every time I shop at this one particular store on the Drive.  Their cheese comes in plain brown paper, which is the only reason I still go there, but come to the counter and my blood pressure always starts to rise; I’ve tried to have numerous unsuccessful and unpleasant conversations with the ladies there about their plastic bags- both grocery and produce.

Yesterday I was stuck behind a woman who had chosen to bag every single item she had purchased.  One avocado:one bag.  One onion:one bag.  Times all her million items I was forced to stare at as they were placed in the larger, bright orange, plastic bags.  I started to feel sick to my stomach.  Who does this lady think she is?!  It was one of the more blatant abuses of bags I had ever encountered.

Fidgeting.  Heart pounding.  Do I say something?  What is the right thing to do here? What. Is. The. Right. Thing.

I copped out and instead ranted to the unsuspecting person behind me in line.  Whilst stunned, in agreement.  And while that made me feel a little better, I walked out the store feeling like I let the future down.

So, friends.  Shall we develop a simple spoken message that delivers the point in a non-threatening manner?  Or, shall I make a card that you can quietly pass to someone on the way out?  Or, do we stew silently in our disappointment and disgust?  Other ideas?

 

Warning: Contains graphic images

Climbing out of my van one morning whilst visiting Vancouver, my eyes were assaulted by:

Oh man!  What planet have I been living on?!  I didn’t think this kind of waste happened anymore!  Ok- I didn’t really think that, but let’s look closer and be perplexed together.  And please do not be distracted by the Sun’s efforts to cast some light on this sinister scene.

You with me?!  WTF right!?

Note how much trash this person/family has generated in one week.  Un frikking believable!  Zero thought went into the amount of waste generated.  Note the empty recycling containers behind.  Zero effort was made to recycle.  Note the amount of food scraps.  Zero effort was also made to compost (this person has a large back yard and the City of Vancouver offers compost pick up).   Note the way in which they have crumpled the Tetra Pack juice containers.  Zero time went in to handling the trash.  Greedily they just gobbled the juice and hastily threw the vessel out…of sight and mind.

Let’s look even closer.

Picturing them chowing their soybeans and stuffing the skins into a clamshell container (then into the bulging trash sack, then into the overflowing bin) is utterly offensive to me.  I just find it is SO trashy and unsophisticated, which, funnily enough, is probably 100% contrary to what these people want you to think of them (these people live in one of the richest neighbourhoods in Vancouver).   You may call me a total judgey hag, but I will accept your abuse and go further to say they probably think their sh*t don’t stink.  If I could have captured the smell in the image, you too, would see that it does.

Don’t get me wrong, I do not want to pick on any particular caste or community.  This image, this morning, just down the road from us:

I don’t know how they would react if I first told them that their dirty secrets are publicized on the web, but I bet both offenders would claim that they “totally believe in helping the environment”.  Who, for the most part, could disagree?!  Except me, because I hate that saying.  The environment doesn’t need help.  We do.

Wasting is a symptom of a very much larger problem, and is a burden on so many levels.  On a personal level, for me not creating waste is so utterly freeing, and a complete pleasure and privilege.  Apart from just feeling good, it allowed me a clear examination of what was awry in my own life.  Zero waste was/is a path to me.

Now, let the raccoons do the work or lift the lid yourself.  It’s time you had a look.

Inspiration

The first thing interviewers usually ask me is what inspired me to go plastic-free.  I tell them about my mounting guilt about plastic use, the Midway albatrosses, 5 Gyres, and an epiphany involving sardines.   Then they ask me what is hard (curiously they never ask me what is easy).  I tell them this that and the other, but make sure to say that the emotional challenges are often the greatest- i.e. watching others consuming mindlessly, making my efforts seem small.  Then, I tell them that one has to focus on today, celebrating small successes, rather than getting overwhelmed and immobilized by dreary realities.  And that living with integrity is the only way, and all we can do.  Going back to the inspiration, I tell them that everyday I find new inspiration to continue my mission.  Today it is this:

Those, my friends, are magnified sand grains.  Words cannot express how I feel about these.  Think about walking on the beach with these delightful art pieces shifting softly under your feet.

There are more images here http://inspirationgreen.com/magnified-grains-of-sand.html

Shall I magnify some plastic nurdles for you?  Yes, I shall.

I’m not sure what the point of that exercise was to be honest.  What I want to say is that it is an absolute travesty to ef up our beaches, these living art museums, with disgusting uninspirational crap that will only serve to distance ourselves and future generations from the best places on earth.

Oops!  A dreary reality slipped out.  Focus.

Breathe.

Wrapping it up

Last post, I asked you guys to comment on the image below.

I had to laugh that most of the comments focused on the creepy dude in the back and said nothing about plastic. Are most of her readers women she wonders!? Also, whether she takes the topic way too seriously so as to only see “it” in the image??

While still focusing on the man behind, mind you, one of the comments that was most in line with my thinking was the following:

“He’s just come to the realization that his new wife is a malfuntioning robot, he’s outta there.”

I too was drawn to the robotic expression on the woman’s face, as it perfectly depicts the consumer coma I so often speak about.

Speaking of plastic wrap.

I am working two days a week as a baker in the local cafe. It not being my kitchen, I have encountered more plastic than usual and have made a fascinating discovery. It is that I no longer handle plastic with dexterity: a total Awkward Annie! Plastic feels foreign to me, like a thing of the past. The best way to describe it is like the sensory fascination one might feel when handling an antique. Except that antiques are cool and plastic is not.

All this to say that I am super relieved to NOT be that lady in the picture! She is way too comfortable, and way too happy handling that strange, shiny, stretchy, stinky material. And that I wouldn’t touch those sandwiches with a ten-foot pole.

Ew!

Dear readers,

Please share some of your thoughts about this image.

Ooey gooey badness

After a long beach walk a cinnamon bun was in order.  My friends and I grabbed the comfy seats in the corner of the coffee shop and settled in for some gluttony.  Cecilia had grabbed some coffee spoons for our buns since the other utensils offered were of the wrong material.

I had the perfect vantage point to watch other bun eaters as they selected plastic forks and knifes for their fare.  I started judging people and ranting to Dave about the fact that plastic was not even on those peoples’ radar whatsoever, and that if they stopped to think even for a second and USED THEIR BRAINS! they would not choose plastic for this 5 minutes of dining.  With disdain, I felt like going over and yelling: YOUR BUNK BUN EATING WAYS WILL HAVE A LASTING AWFUL IMPACT ON OUR PLANET AND YOU HAVE NO CLUE!  Then, if I could do whatever I wanted, I would throw all the plastic cutlery on against the wall.  Probably the clam shell containers too.  From this, I would reap great satisfaction.  Judge me, I dare ya.

In comes another bun eater.  I am still watching.  He approaches the cutlery table.  I cringe.  He pauses and weighs his options: 1. plastic fork and knife 2. metal coffee spoon.  I hold my breath.  He makes the right decision, sits, and awkwardly, yet humbly, begins to eat his bun with a spoon.  I think this guy is rad and he has no idea that he made my day.

In the grand scheme of things, eating a bun with a spoon is the most minute little sacrifice for the greater good (or shall I say the greatest good, since “The Greater Good” was trademarked by Burt’s Bees…if that makes any sense.  Tell me I am not the only one who sees the irony in that.).  Back to the point…that barely even qualifies as a sacrifice, but it is significant enough in this sad state of affairs to warrant a celebration.

Play along with me

Not really thinking too much about it, I made a decision to go buy fabric at IKEA for my drafty windows.  Nino warned me via text message: “Love, when was the last time you were at IKEA?  It is like a 30 000 square foot hell.”

Of course I had forgotten how plastic that place is, but I did know that the fabric comes unwrapped.  I chose a pretty pattern, had three pieces cut by the dude there, who promptly thereafter disappeared behind the counter with my goods.

Taina: Wait a second!  You aren’t going to wrap that are you?

Voice from under the counter:  Yes.  It’s procedure.

Taina: No, I don’t want plastic.

Annoyed face from behind counter:  It’s procedure.

Taina thinking that buddy has one more chance: I will not buy the fabric if you put it in plastic.

Buddy: I can’t have you take the fabric without plastic.  The stickers may come off and the check out people will be very confused.

Taina thinking that this guy takes me for an absolute moron: I want to speak to a manager.

Guy gets on phone and has candid conversation with two managers: Uh huh. Yes. I assume so. Ok.

Guy who still takes me for a flailing moron: Ok, we are going to make an exception for you, but please keep the fabrics together and don’t lose the stickers. (Which by the way are stuck firmly to the fabric..as stickers do)

Taina successfully checking out at counter:  Are you per chance confused?  The fabric guy said you wouldn’t be able to deal with this folded fabric and these stickers without a plastic cover.

Check out chick gives me a look like I am a moron:  No.

___

So often we just let people walk all over us.  The moral of the story is that it is your right to REFUSE and if someone refuses back, call them out on it.

The best thing is that I was having fun (my friend saw right through it and busted me as we walked out).  I enjoy this consumer game and most of the time I know I can get what I want.  For the simple fact is that their money, is in my pocket.

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!