We're Fu@%ed. I'm single. Carry on.

This I didn't expect.

After months of meandering down lonely emotional passages, bumping into walls and making frequent u-turns, I finally inched up on certainty. Things with HCB weren't working. They hadn't for a long time. We both knew it. We talked about it. We couldn't fix it.

We had the hard conversations.
And then I left town.

It was supposed to be a father-daughter pilgrimage to my birthplace in South America, a relaxing beach vacation with some sweet familial significance. I relished the chance to set aside months/years/a lifetime of relentless analysis in favor of ripest mangoes, 80 degree weather and my thighs getting reacquainted with sunshine. I needed some time to just feel.

It was everything I hoped. But it was also a total slap in the face.

This is what I saw. This is what I know: we are fucked.

No amount of local organic kumquats or making our own oatmeal scrub or tracing our denim purchases or abstaining from free printers is going to stem the tide of developing nations. There are BILLIONS of people out there who can finally afford their Starbucks, and no one - particularly not our collective fat ass - is going to tell them they can't have it. I saw just a tiny piece. Lima has 8.5 million people (30% of Peru's population), the average age of whom is 25. They have endured years of political corruption, turmoil and terrorism. Their city is finally, blissfully, emerging as a hub of culture and industry. Their economy is strong. The cars are shiny and new. The grocery stores cover a city block and stock everything imaginable. Hip restaurants (some of them chains) teem with attractive young people laughing and cavorting. New condos are blanketing the city like kudzu.

It's awesome.

Lima is alive in a way that San Francisco hasn't been for a long time. Prosperity, relative though it may be for the majority of the population, is busy breeding joy. And creativity. And passion. All the things that make life worth living. The energy is palpable and infectious.

If you saw it, you'd be happy for them. The Limeñas. The kids in Beijing. The hipsters in Mumbai. Whether or not the planet can sustain it (it can't), the American lifestyle we've dreamed up is pretty sweet. Yes, potentially absurd and meaningless in excess, but utterly safe and incredibly comfortable. We should know; we can't seem to quit it, either. And we're still exporting it. WalMart is building 15 locations in Peru next year.

So barring a global pandemic that knocks off a healthy chunk of the population (swine flu, anyone??), considerable and coordinated political will (fat chance), and/or several technological breakthroughs that sweep in to save our collective fat ass, we're fucked.

We cannot stem this tide.

You and I have forty years left. How do you want to spend them?

That's the question I've been asking myself for the last two months. I apologize for the absence; I was trying to decide what to tell you. As you can imagine, this new awareness makes the act of painstakingly itemizing the contents of my life feel pretty naive/myopic/just plain stupid. My peeps were the first to hear this rant, and more than a few of them were dismayed. What do you do when your most annoyingly smug Eco Nerd friend suddenly sounds as if she's giving up the cause? Rejoice that she'll finally stop berating you for using bleach, or panic that even the optimists are being taken down by the ineluctable truth?

I scarcely know what to do myself. HCB and I have officially split, so I've spent the last month finding and decorating a new apartment. Without itemization or apology. I have the local Ikea showroom memorized. A year ago this fact would have given me hives. Now only the bill does.

I'm trying to reframe, to make sense...

So far I have only a half-notion, a loaf of bread on first rise. I DO know that we should NOT give up conscious consumerism. Of course not. As Michael says, "Sometimes you have to act as if acting will make a difference, even when you can't prove that it will." But I do think a shift is in order.

It has something to do with resilience rather than sustainability. Humanitarianism rather than environmentalism.

Ultimately, all we have - all we've ever had - is units of time and energy. It's just that now we can see the end of them. Seems to me we should spend what we have left seeking joy. For as many people as possible. Not the kind you can buy necessarily (though humans have a long history of treasured possessions), but the kind that comes from feeling truly safe. Safe from violence, from illness, from hunger, from poverty. Safe to love your partner freely, provide for your family, break bread with your neighbor, feel the sun on your thighs and taste ripe mango on your tongue. We should all have that chance.

Crickets...

I'll just come out with it: I went to Peru and didn't tell you. That's part of the reason it's been so quiet around here (in addition to a heaping portion of volunteer work and a certain amount of existential turmoil). But anyway, the point is: I'm in Peru. And the week before I left for Peru, I came down with a terrible case of Vacation Outfit Emergency Syndrome (VOES).

Those of you who live in San Francisco know how futile it is to own summer clothes, seeing as how we don't have summer. Which means that the only shorts, bikinis or sundresses a girl is likely to own are the ones she bought for her last beach vacation back in 2007, the days when camo was on the wane but not yet embarrassing. Regardless. In the face of VOES, time and trends are immaterial.

I tried to do right. Knowing that a sustainable sundress was going to be mighty hard to come by, I went through my existing options carefully. I committed to checking ALL the consignment shops before stepping foot in a single boutique, turning myself into a pollo con su cabeza cortada for a good 72 hours. Ultimately I bought two dresses and a belt from Lucky Brand, a completely unapologetic mass-market brand owned by Liz Claiborne Inc. They seem to have a Code of Conduct and some concern for worker's rights, but there's no indication whatsoever that they're contemplating environmental impact.

End result: I feel bad, even while looking good.

It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood...

Internet, meet my new friend Michele.



Michele is a fellow city hippie. She drives a killer vintage Mercedes, has a predilection for giggling, and recently chopped off all her hair. (She tried to cut it herself but quickly realized the folly of her ways and went to a professional. Result: supercuteness.)

Michele is also a wicked biodiesel nerd, which makes sense since she's co-owner of the city's first retail pump, Dogpatch Biofuels. I've been to Dogpatch twice now to fill up, and I've had the chance to shoot the breeze with Michele both times. I predict some day we will drink beer together.

I'll get into the whole biodiesel thing later - pros and cons, why I chose my TDI over a Prius, etc etc. Right now I'm just basking in the unexpected side benefits: like-minded peeps and gasoline that smells like fried chicken.

While we're on the subject of malignant eye boogers...

Last weekend my right eye suddenly poofed itself into an itchy red blight on my face. Having just seen the opthamologist two days prior, I was naturally convinced that I had contracted some sort of highly aggressive, likely incurable, raised-on-antimicrobial-soap eye cancer at her office. HCB got a good laugh out of my diagnosis, but I knew there was something awry in my eye. Aye?

By Monday I was improved enough that permanent blindness seemed unlikely, but I was still curious about said malady's provenance. And then it hit me: my makeup brushes must be Level 4 contaminated. Thinking only of my ocular health, I sped to the nearest Sephora, snapped up a bottle of their brush cleanser and was sprinting for the cash register when, for ONCE, I actually remembered to look at the ingredients.

Finding only a jumble of words and 'less-than' signs on said bottle, none of which sounded remotely like English, I calmly put it back, went home, and trolled the Skin Deep database until I suffered eye strain.

As usual, none of my findings there made any sense either, so I Google stalked us a DIY alternative.

And that is my ridiculously long-winded, highly anticlimactic way of sharing recipes for homemade makeup brush cleaners. You're welcome.

From Tipnut.com:

Recipe #1

1 cup Distilled Water
2 TBS Rubbing Alcohol
1 TBS Baby Shampoo

Recipe #2

1/2 cup Warm Water
1/4 cup Vinegar

Recipe #3

1 cup Warm Water
1 tsp Liquid Castile Soap

Recipe #4

1 cup Warm Water
1 TBS Baby Shampoo

Recipe #5

1/4 cup Warm Water
1 TBS Woolite

Recipe #6

1 cup Warm Water
1 TBS Liquid Dish Detergent

Recipe #7

1 cup Warm Water
1 TBS Baby Shampoo
1/2 tsp Tea Tree Oil

If you're looking for a natural baby shampoo option, I think California Baby rocks.

Malignant Eye Boogers

She's going to kill me for doing it, but I simply MUST post the response I received from my friend Rene about the 3D glasses:

I will hold onto mine (the ones that I don't even have yet because I haven't been to the movie).

I simply don't trust some movie house worker to sanitize them properly, or even at all. In fact, I am assuming they will roll them around in the popcorn bin and then they will hand them right over to the next person, who probably has some case of psoriasis from which I will develop a case of contact dermatitis the second I put said glasses on. The kind of dermatitis that makes the dermatologist say, "Well, it might go away but I recommend taking a 3 month course of antibiotics to really knock it out of your system."

Or worse yet, a professional football player may have worn the glasses right before me and then handed them back to this same lame movie house worker with a stiff case of MRSA attached to the glasses, ready to jump airborne right into my eyeballs.

I could go on about all the ailments I could get, but bottom line: I'm keeping my glasses. I have a good history of this. I had a 3-D book when I was little and kept the glasses until I went to college and my mother made me clean out my room.

She had me at MRSA.

So...humor me for a minute. How CAN we solve the Case of The 3D Glasses? I realize it's wee tiny and generally insignificant, but I'm interested in wee tiny problems. They're solvable. And they always lead to something bigger.

a call sheet + a call to action

I don't know if you've noticed, but HOLY COW PANTS it's been raining hard over the last couple weeks/days/hours/minutes. Perfect weather for sequestering oneself in a dark room with hundreds of little kids in 3D glasses, as HCB and I did at a recent showing of Coraline.

I'm not going to say too much about the movie itself. I think reviews tend to steal the soul of the creative endeavor. But HOLY COW PANTS you should go see this one, if only for the visual thrill. This newfangled 3D technology is a big part of it. As the movie is transporting you to this fantastical alternate world, the 3D is plopping that world right into your lap. I was captivated.

...All the way up to the moment after the movie when we tried to give our glasses back to the usher and she looked at us like we were offering her a steaming turd pile.

There we were, all high on the experience, all excited by the way technology and creativity can come together to inspire, and suddenly WAAAAH WUUUUH.

Obvi I Googled as soon as we got home. I found this blog post saying RealD, the company who created the newfangled 3D technology, had started a glasses recycling program last fall.

Then I got on the horn.

First I called AMC Loews Metreon 16 and talked to a very kind, very nervous person who informed me that I was not the first patron to complain about this, that they were "working on" rolling out the recycling program, and that while they couldn't give me any hard dates, they assured me it would be available "soon".

Then I called AMC's California offices. The receptionist, bless her, was confused.

So I had her transfer me to the corporate office. That receptionist, bless her, was also confused. I finally got through to someone in PR and left a message.

Then I decided to go straight to the source: I left a message for RealD's PR department. And HOLY COW PANTS, they called me right back! I talked to a lovely guy named Eric who told me all about the recycling program - no hard data or dates (though he offered to get them for me), but it's already available in locations nationwide. The glasses are sanitized and repurposed whenever possible, and the remaining sets are sent for plastic recycling. But he also made an excellent point:

They want us to REUSE these glasses. Like, bring 'em back for the next movie.

For sure they ain't yer grandmama's pair. They're sturdy, comfortable, and *almost* stylish, like something Michael Stipe might've worn circa Radio Free Europe. Ahem:


[Yeah, so I'm six eyes. You got somethin' to say about it?]

With 14 RealD movies coming out this year and another 30-40 in the works, it's a safe bet that you really will have occasion to wear them again.

But the thing is, if I have to store them, remember where I put them, and then bring them BACK to the movies every time Pixar anthropomorphizes another water buffalo, I've got about a 0.2% chance of success. And I am the kind of nerdball who religiously carries a water bottle, tupperware, a travel mug and a cloth napkin on her person.

I think the theaters should hold onto them for us. Don't you? And shouldn't they sanitize them onsite, since that'll reduce the carbon expenditure?

Maybe we can help Eric make his recycling program more functional. Anybody got some ideas? If we can't have an effect on the economic stimulus plan(s), we might as well offer our smarts to somebody who'll listen.

I've been thinking...

I'm not sure how I pulled it off, but over the past couple weeks I have convinced several supersmart people to let me encroach upon their supersmart, supersecret gatherings. First I watched the live webcast of the supersmart TED2009 conference at Mark's house with Eric and Andrea and Joanna, all of whom have job titles like Futurist, Strategist or SmartAssMoFo and speak in a supersecret language that's 70% comprised of supersmart-sounding buzz words. (What I couldn't add in conversation I donated in Dynamo Donuts and snarky commentary for their Tweet streams.) It was, in a word, killer.

I've also been volunteering my services as a blogger for Compostmodern, a sustainability conference happening here in SF on Feb 21, wherein I tricked those supersmart peeps into letting me have private conversations with 10 of the supersmartest creative people in the design world. Made my brain hurt so good.

Then last night I winked my way into a sustainability round table hosted by the supersmart dudes at Adobe XD. We're talking a literal round table filled with famous designers and cameras and microphones and name tags and me getting sweaty and eventually gulping down enough Chablis to say something. Or a couple things, both of which I hope weren't, in a word, facile. Again, killer.

So far February 2009 has been the most inspired month of my entire life. Which has got me reflecting, in a deeper way, on my year of Not New and what it did for me. Sure, I saved money. And sure, you've already heard how I'm totally a better person than you due to my extraordinary personal sacrifices. But I hope somewhere in the last 160 posts it came across that sustainability is FUN. It's totally confusing and labrynthine and full of potholes, but there's so much opportunity in the process. I've done dumb stuff, had tantrums, picked fights with grocery boys and revealed a lot of self-indulgent crap to the entire world, but I'm laughing every step of the way. I'm learning constantly because I finally have an excuse to follow my curiosity. I've reconnected with my friends and family over face scrubs, toilet-showers and tofu. I've become a more involved member of my community. And most importantly, I find myself applying my creativity to every single nanoparticle of my life, which opens up more opportunities for joy and discovery and supersecret invites than anything else I know. In the words of Wooderson from Dazed and Confused, I am L-I-V-I-N'.

But that's just me. Now I want to see how other people are doing it. I think instead of populating this site with tips and eco news and one more reprimanding voice of responsibility, I'd like to try to paint a broader picture of the joy that comes with sustainable living. What does a sustainable life look like? Taste like? Feel like? Who's trying to live it? Who's living it without trying? I want to meet people who fight for chicken rights or eschew refrigerators or pedal-power their cell phones or build houses for neighbors in need. Not Ed Begley Jr or Paul Hawken, but normal peeps like you and me.

I'm not sure how I'll do it yet or where it will take me, but hey, that's exactly the fun of it.

Quicken Earth January: Continuing To Air My Dirty Clean Laundry

The Year of Nothing New may be over, but this seems only to have increased your desire to know what I've been buying. And not buying.

Your wish is my command.

Note: I've divided this tally into new categories that reflect Bruce Sterling's advice. (A girl can aspire.) The goal is to keep any and all purchases in the first four categories.

BEAUTIFUL THINGS
60% off knee-high Rachel Gryson black boots. I am in love with them. I will also use them to pieces for the next decade. Timeless, beautifully made and HAWT.

EMOTIONALLY IMPORTANT THINGS
Twilight series novels one and three. I had no used buying alternatives, and it was imperative that I read them IMMEDIATELY. (I'm actually serious about them being emotionally important: they inspired a novel idea and have been very instructive for me in the devices of popular fiction.) But they're not keepers: I'll be donating them to the library next week.

TOOLS, DEVICES, APPLIANCES, NECESSARY APPAREL
Oh holy MacBook. The stars are shining brightly. I cannot BELIEVE how much faster my life just got.

Prps boyfriend jeans, I cannot quit you. Amortizing your cost over a per-use basis is going to make you seem downright inexpensive. You also seem to be responsibly made. (I hope.)

Ever sweatshirt: I love you almost as much as HCB.

Elizabeth & James black t-shirt, Elie Tahari button-down blouse that ACTUALLY FITS WITHOUT ALTERATIONS, DVF sweater, Rag & Bone pencil skirt, Anthropologie chinos, and Nanette Lepore wool dress: you were all drastically reduced, extremely high quality, and desperately needed for wardrobe updating purposes. I feel certain that you will be effective and perennial members of my closet.

EVERYTHING ELSE
Nothing. So that feels pretty good...

Your #1 Slowest Source for Eco News

I don't mean to sound self-defeating, but the fact that you're reading this green blog leads me to believe you haven't found the reputable ones yet. Am I right?

I feel a sense of responsibility about this. So here are a few stale, second-hand, totally cherry-picked headlines to help you sound smug at cocktail parties. I might even try doing this once a week, you know, if I can get around to it.

Tropicana is tracking your orange juice. [New York Times]

According to this list, 'Farmer Natalie' wasn't such a bad idea after all... [Fast Company]

H&M is going to boost organic cotton in its clothes. Now if only they could make them last more than one washing. [Treehugger]

Year-old newsflash: Clorox GreenWorks is actually a reputable product. [Two Steps Forward]

We now have a locavore in the White House. Have I mentioned how much I love Obama? [Ecorazzi]

Domino has closed its doors. I think it might be my fault. [Design*Sponge]

I did it for the children.

It's Craig and Kelly's fault. They took me to that damn Twilight movie on Monday, and now I'm seriously considering lining up at my local Hot Topic for a life sized cardboard cut-out.





I am not the only one, either. The audience at the movie consisted not of teenage girls, but cougars, some of whom admitted to having seen it multiple times.

Of course I had to read the books IMMEDIATELY. Turns out there's a four-month wait at the library, the used bookstore didn't have any copies, and amazon.com seemed like a waste of carbon miles. So I caved and bought it new at my local shoppe.



But I'm committed to giving back to my community. I called the sfpl this morning, and they're happy to accept this particular title as a donation to the collection.

See girls? Aunt Natalie is looking out for you.

This is what 2009 looks like.

So I'm driving home yesterday afternoon with a still-in-the-box new MacBook AND 60% off footwear plunder in my trunk, and here's what I'm thinking:

"Sure, it's good to have a faster computer and boots that aren't seven years old with a woefully unstylish toe profile. But somehow my heart's not in it. Is it possible that new stuff just isn't sexy to me anymore?"

Then I went home, put on my boots and watched 30 minutes of Robert Pattinson on YouTube. Verdict: new stuff still very, very sexy. And sleek. And fast. And supple. And young. One might even say lickable.

Gives new meaning to the term "Burner"

I've found a new Internet resource to obsess over: Wattzon.com.

Basically, it's a much more specific carbon footprint calculator that boils your lifestyle down to the total units of power you consume - including all the watts it takes to make, transport and care for your stuff over its lifetime. (We're talking down to the toothbrush.) This is, of course, exactly the category that I and so many other people have often failed to consider, and predictably, it's a big fat slice of my pie:



Actually, given my penchant for travel and its ill effects, I was a teeny bit surprised to see that my stuff category is in fact my biggest vice. (Though 2010 may still be the Year of Going Nowhere.) That's exactly what makes this tool so smart: with quantifiable data, it's much easier to cut through the eco advice clusterfuck and focus on the slice that matters most for you. If your food category is huge but your commuting portion is tiny, it's probably better to put off the Prius purchase and start summoning your inner herbivore instead.

Or as Wattzon founder Saul Griffith says, just stop paying taxes (the "Government" slice). But hey, at least now we can hope Obama will do something positive with the cash.

Speaking of which, isn't it wonderful to wake up every day to NPR saying "This morning, President Obama vowed to shut down Guantanamo / bring the troops home / allow California to set tougher emissions standards / cure cancer / save the baby animals / buy me a cookie"?

The way to my heart? Through my t-shirt.

A friend gave me an Alternative Apparel tee before Christmas, and it fits me like a glove. It seems the Longest Torso in America (me) may have a secret twin who is AA's fit model.


[I wear mine with fingered gloves - and a bomber jacket. Colder flight pattern.]

After three days without even CONSIDERING taking it off, I:
1. was obsessed
2. went to the website
3. discovered an organic line AND an Eco line; became more obsessed
4. couldn't help but wonder whither the cotton came from
5. sent an Inquiring Minds email
6. waited
7. neglected to check my someonemightcare email address
8. waited in vain

I finally took a stroll through my in-box this week and found a friendly missive from Erin, Alternative Apparel's Product Specialist. I told her what I wanted to know, and here's what she sent back:

For our Alternative Earth line, anything that states that it’s 100% organic cotton is certified organic cotton. Our organic cotton is currently sourced from New Mexico, Thailand, and Peru, and we keep copies of the organic certificates on file. All our Eco-Heather and Eco-Vertigrain styles have partially recycled and partially organic threads alongside our traditional ones to keep the softness that we’re known for. When we’re able to create a 100% sustainable heather blend that’s as soft as our other products, we’ll definitely start producing it. Also, none of the dyes we use in our Alternative Earth line contain heavy metals or toxic substances and are not petro-chemically based. They have a higher rate of absorption so less dye is needed to color the fabric and in turn less water is used to rinse them. At our dye-houses, a water filtration system clears the used water of excess chemicals, toxins, and dyes, and cycles the water for reuse.

The rest of our line is produced using traditional methods with an emphasis on fair labor practices. Alternative is not currently Certified Fair Trade, but all of our factories abide by the Fair Labor Standards. The Alternative Earth line was introduced as a transition from the traditional apparel to a sustainable line, and one day we hope to complete the transition. In the meantime we’re taking a step in the right direction and doing the best we can.

Please let me know if you have any more questions! Thank you so much, and have a great day!

Man I love good customer service.

Now, am I advocating the purchase of new t-shirts if you don't need them? No.

Am I saying Alternative Apparel is the number one most sustainable t-shirt you could ever possibly own? No. I haven't gotten my PhD yet.

Did Erin just breed a ton of goodwill for the brand and a hefty order from me? Absolutely.

My favorite bits

MR. OBAMA: Starting today, we must pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and begin again the work of remaking America.

For everywhere we look, there is work to be done.

The state of our economy calls for action: bold and swift. And we will act not only to create new jobs but to lay a new foundation for growth.

We will build the roads and bridges, the electric grids and digital lines that feed our commerce and bind us together.

We will restore science to its rightful place and wield technology's wonders to raise health care's quality...and lower its costs.

We will harness the sun and the winds and the soil to fuel our cars and run our factories. And we will transform our schools and colleges and universities to meet the demands of a new age.

All this we can do. All this we will do.

...
...

To the people of poor nations, we pledge to work alongside you to make your farms flourish and let clean waters flow; to nourish starved bodies and feed hungry minds.

And to those nations like ours that enjoy relative plenty, we say we can no longer afford indifference to the suffering outside our borders, nor can we consume the world's resources without regard to effect. For the world has changed, and we must change with it.

...
...

Our challenges may be new, the instruments with which we meet them may be new, but those values upon which our success depends, honesty and hard work, courage and fair play, tolerance and curiosity, loyalty and patriotism -- these things are old.

These things are true. They have been the quiet force of progress throughout our history.

What is demanded then is a return to these truths. What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility -- a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation and the world, duties that we do not grudgingly accept but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character than giving our all to a difficult task.

This is the price and the promise of citizenship.

What a day to be an American. I am so proud.

PowerBallad

Oh Carrie!



You shoulda been gone,
Knowing how they built you weak.
You shoulda been gone,
Tech designed for obsolete.

But I gave you the hard drive
From my exploded iBook,
And with a virtual high-five
You were working your magic.

Now I know the reason
(The reason, oh-oh)
That your name is Book, Power:

You came to the rescue
(The rescue, oh-oh)
in my neediest hour.

Oh Carrie!
Our love, holds on, holds on.

At the ripe age of nine,
Web 2.0 ain't your domain.
Flash, Facebook and Firefox
Drive your megahertz insane.

But despite delayed voice tracks
And a hyperactive beach ball,
You kept me plugged in
And away from the MacMall.

In fact you’re the mascot
Of my Nothing New year
Made famous on YouTube,
Admired far and near.

Oh Carrie!
Our love, holds on, holds on.

But now that it’s '09
And I’ve renewed my credit card,
It’s time for the Cougar
To make way for the Leopard.

Don’t worry, Dear Carrie!
We won’t recycle your action.
We’ll sell you on Craigslist
To a monk in a Datsun.

Thank you again
For maintaining your purview.
I can’t help but wonder
What I would have done without you.

Oh Carrie!
Our love, held on, held on.


If you love your old hardware like I do, might I suggest the following friendly retirement plans:

We really did sell our last laptop on Craigslist to a Buddhist monk in a Datsun. You never know what form the tech geek will come in.

GoodWill refurbishes, de-manufactures and responsibly recycles old computers and monitors, all while providing job training and career services for people with disabilities.

Local outlets like Green Citizen make it easy (and free) to recycle your old hardware - and learn more about the issues while you're at it.

If you buy a new Mac directly from Apple, they'll recycle your old computer for free.

I done it.

Finally, after extensive delays due to MacWorld, tech dithering and recession-inspired fear, I have purchased my new computer. Which one, you ask?



I picked the newest, highest-end MacBook (2.4 GHz), souped up with another 2GB of memory and a 320 GB hard drive. Here's how I got there:

I wanted to buy as new and as fast a computer as possible with the goal of keeping it for at least six years. (That's how long I had my last iBook.)

I realized the MacBook Air, while undeniably sexy and allegedly eco-friendly, probably didn't fit that bill, and wasn't really practical for my day-to-day desk life.

The MacBook Pro is more computer than I need, both in function and in size. I don't operate a ton of crazy programs, and I travel enough that I'd rather have the smaller screen.

But the MacBook fits just right. And my IT friends agree.

So my new hardware satisfies as many of my buying criteria as possible:
Do I need this thing? YES.
Is it EXACTLY the one I want? YES.
Is it good enough quality that I will have it for a long, long time? I HOPE SO.

As far as Apple's environmental responsibility is concerned, it's far from perfect but seems to be getting better. The stats for this particular computer aren't bad:
arsenic-free glass
BFR-free
mercury-free
PVC-free
Energy Star compliant
LED screen uses 30% less energy
37% smaller packaging
EPEAT Gold rating

Treehugger did a pretty thorough investigation, which is worth reading if you're interested.

A few side notes: I opted NOT to get the "free" printer with $100 rebate. As alluring as "free" can be, it just seemed wasteful to me. We already have a printer that's better than the one on offer, and if I do decide to upgrade, I plan to get EXACTLY THE ONE I WANT.

I also opted to eschew the iPhone. I remain unconvinced that I can send a coherent email with that lame-ass keyboard. I'm sorta jonesing for the Palm Pre instead. And besides, until my backup Treo stops functioning, it would be wasteful to switch.

Everybody Loves a Quickie.

I love cooking. You know this. The kitchen is the one place where my creativity and my OCD can have their naughty little way with each other. But after a day like today, a day when I had to pretend to be smart in front of really smart people for hours on end, my culinary subpersonalities are simply not in the mood. Give me one of those housewifey "Delicious Dinners in 30 minutes!" or give me a cocktail and a take-out menu.

So far I've had difficulty amassing veggie recipes of this ilk, what with all the chopping and mincing and grating and dicing (and carpal tunnel). So I thought I'd share a few that work for me, including one I INVENTED TONIGHT. That's right people, straight from the Magic Chef to your web browser.



If you've dined at Ugly Betty frequently over the past few months, you've been served this first one so many times that, like HCB, you are secretly hoping for me to rediscover the swine. Here's the good news: now that you have the recipe, you can feel free to add bacon.

Path of Least Resistance Stuffed Peppers



4 red, green, orange, purple or yellow bell peppers, halved and seeded
1 cup dry quinoa
2 cups chicken stock or chicken bouillon cubes (to taste)
1-2 leeks, chopped, white parts only
1/2 (approx) small red cabbage, thinly sliced
a handful of mushrooms, halved and sliced
1 package Halloumi cheese
any other veggies you desire: broccoli, cauliflower, spinach, fresh corn etc etc
Olive oil, salt and pepper
a couple tablespoons of chopped Italian parsley

Preheat the oven to 400. Place the peppers on a cookie sheet or baking pan and sprinkle generously with salt, pepper and olive oil. Roast until softish and starting to char on the edges, about 30 minutes.

Meanwhile, bring 2 cups water to a boil, add chicken bouillon, and then add the cup of quinoa. Cook uncovered on med-high heat until all the water has dissolved. Take off heat and let sit covered until you need it.

Meanwhile meanwhile, heat a couple tablespoons of olive oil in a large saute pan over medium-high heat. Add the leeks and cook until soft but not browned. If they start to brown, turn down the heat. Add mushrooms and optional veggies. Saute for a few minutes until slightly softened. Add the cabbage. Keep on sautéein'. Add the halloumi. Stir for a few minutes until the cheese is warm to the touch (extra points if it has begun to soften). Add the cooked quinoa. Add the parsley. Stir. Salt and pepper to taste.

Remove the peppers from the oven. Stuff each generously with the veggie mixture. Put them back in the oven at 400 or 425 until browned on top, about 15-20 minutes.


And now, for the moment you've all been waiting for...


If You Season It, They Will Eat Them Tacos

One package Lightlife Smart Ground(R) taco-flavored veggie protein crumbles
...

OH FOR CHRIST'S SAKE. Stop being such a pansy. Sure, nobody wants to eat this:



But what about this?



That's what I thought. Now then, what was I saying?

FILLING
1 12 oz package Lightlife Smart Ground(R) taco-flavored veggie protein crumbles
1 small onion, diced
1 jalapeno, minced
3-4 large garlic cloves minced
olive oil
ground cumin to taste
salt to taste
cayenne to taste

Heat approx 1 tbsp of olive oil in a 10-inch pan over medium-high heat. Sauté onions, jalapenos and garlic until glassy/soft. Add weird fake taco meat; sauté until heated through. Add remaining ingredients to taste. Note: you may need to add more oil as you go - I found that the "protein crumbles" tended to stick to the pan.

LIME SOUR CREAM
1 cup fresh sour cream
fine zest of one lime
juice of one small lime (approx 2 tbsp)
1/4 tsp kosher salt
1/4 tsp ground cumin

Stir ingredients together; die in ecstasy. Seriously, don't omit this part. It is The Secret Sauce.

WRAPPING
1 package small corn tortillas, warmed
1 ripe avocado
1 small red cabbage, halved and sliced thinly
grated Monterrey Jack cheese
fresh salsa

Assemble tacos in the manner befitting your stature. You will not be sorry.

Let's Play 'Do I need this ______?'

So my new buying plan is...challenging. I've walked into at least 20 stores downtown, asking every salesperson in sight about the origins of their products. Most know very little but are happy to ask their managers. Said managers are often useless. Websites almost NEVER provide details of this sort. Emailing/calling customer service reps seldom never elicits a response.

I could - I want to - dedicate my life to figuring out where my stuff comes from, but I do have like a real job and whatnot. So I've had to rely more heavily on my secondary criteria, being:

Do I need this thing?
Is it EXACTLY the one I want?
Is it classic enough, and quality enough, that I will have it for a long, long time?

I am known in certain retail circles for my keen eye and lightning judgment, but this is a lot of pressure to put on every single garment. Add the fact that we're in the tail end of mega-sale season, and one could (okay, did) loiter in the young designer's section of Neiman Marcus well past closing to weigh the pros and cons of her Last Call finds.

So now, whenever possible, I add the Rene Factor. To whit:

ME: Do I want this wallet? It boasts many attractive features, including the fact that it's 60% off. Plus, I like shiny anaconda. And I've never had a wallet this fancy before.



RENE: I'm going thumbs down. Trendy and not going to wear well. I'm just sayin...

ME: Thank you! That's exactly what I needed to hear. My inner blackbird was transfixed by the shiny leather, but in truth, the hardware isn't doing it for me. Ultimately, it was the cheapness factor that put me in a quandary.


Between Rene and my shopping gene, I have a lot going for me. But I might have to supplement it with a PhD in Environmental and Labor Policy.

Dear Prps,

I bought them.



Over the weekend, I found myself in drove myself to ab fits and there they were, just as I imagined them: rough and tumble yet perfectly cut, aggressively washed yet believable on the body, and offering a fit that could accommodate the occasional meatball Tofurkey sandwich. Not to mention the incredible(!) quality of the denim. They're the kind of jeans you have forever and ever, which goes a long way to making them a sustainable product.

But you know what sealed the deal for me? This African guy on your hangtag.



I figure any company that's featuring a tribal personage as a branding element - in addition to the continent of Africa -



must be doing something positive for the people there. I mean aside from just buying their cotton. Right? (Please tell me I'm right.)

Sincerely,
your most annoying customer

Scene From the Dinner Table

INT. UGLY BETTY - NIGHT

An apron-clad NATALIE buzzes happily around the kitchen, humming the tune to Rod Stewart's "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?" as she sets the table, refolds the napkins and pours the wine.

A key CLICKS in the lock of the front door. NATALIE smiles to herself.

A few minutes later, HCB shuffles into the kitchen. They kiss.

NATALIE
(brightly)
Hey! How was work?

HCB
(heavily)
Fine. Same old same old. How are you?

NATALIE
Great! I've got a culinary surprise for you tonight.

A flicker of fear registers in HCB's eyes.

HCB
(disgruntled)
Oh my god what is it this time? Unidentifiable Fake Protein with a side of tubers?

NATALIE
(undeterred)
Close! Baked tofu with roasted veggies, brown rice and avocado.

HCB
(sighs loudly, sets jaw)
Okay, let's just get one thing straight here: I'm willing to accept this new vegetarian obsession of yours, but I. WILL. NOT. EAT. TOFU. I hate tofu. It's rubbery, its unappetizing, and it has no taste of its own. I'll choke down tonight's concoction, but after that, forget about it.

NATALIE
(still undeterred, smiling)
Roger that, Grumpy Pants! I don't know though, this may surprise you. The marinade is delicious.

HCB
(still disgruntled)
I doubt it. Remember how delicious pork is? Remember how you used to pride yourself on getting three different pork products into the same menu? What happened to that woman?

Pause. NATALIE turns to him, wide-eyed, innocent, and starts dancing to the soundtrack playing in her head.

HCB
(resigned to his fate)
Thanks, anyway, for making dinner.

NATALIE
(humming Rod)
My pleasure!

NATALIE plates the dinner and serves. As eating commences, silence falls.

NATALIE
Dude, this is the height of deliciosity! I even forgot it was tofu!

HCB
(slowly, between ever larger mouthfuls)
It's...not...so...bad.

More eating, more silence. HCB's plate empties quickly.

HCB
(chewing)
I...guess...I would...eat that again.

NATALIE
(commencing internal victory dance)
Good to know. I'll add it to the recipetoire.


Rene Rosso's Radically Superior, HCB-Approved Sesame-Soy Baked Tofu
1 brick super firm tofu
2+ tbsp sesame oil
2 tbsp soy sauce
2 tbsp rice wine vinegar
Lemon juice to taste (roughly one lemon's worth)

Unwrap the tofu, put it on a plate large side down, place another plate on top, and then weigh it down with something heavy (like a bag of flour). Let it sit for roughly 30 minutes. Pour off the excess liquid. Cut tofu into slices.

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Arrange tofu in a single layer in small Pyrex or similar baking dish. Pour remaining ingredients over tofu. Liquid should cover tofu a tiny ways up the sides, but will not be submerged. Turn to coat. Bake for 45 minutes.

Serve with short grain brown rice (I cheat and make mine with chicken bouillon for added flavor), roasted veggies and copious amounts of avocado.