It’ not easy being green

 

ECP scores range between 150-900 and they measure your private “Earth Conservation Plan”. The lower your score, the better – it has to do with your footprint on the Earth. The average score in America is 325 and in Canada 305. The average carbon output in the USA is 20 tons and in Canada 17 tons.

I learned recently that my ECP score is 431 and my carbon output is 20.7. One of the things bringing it up is the amount of round trip flights I take in a year and my long commute which I can really only do by car (gas-guzzling SUV unfortunately). I did learn however that there are things I could change for the better, such as unplugging appliances when not in use and switching to energy-saving lighting and shower heads. I’m also going to launch a personal campaign with my boss to work a partial week in the office and telecommute part-time.

Before any of you start to think I’ve become a granola-eating, birkenstock-wearing, crystal-reading, yoga guru - let me put your mind at ease. If you know me, you know I’m more realist than idealist. I do not personally believe in Global Warming. I do however believe that the humans which populate this Earth produce far too much waste, which has the potential to create an unnatural imbalance (regionally and maybe eventually globally) and diminish the quality of our lives. If we can do our part to recycle, conserve and use our resources wisely instead of wastefully, why wouldn’t we do that?

Grant you, I will not get carried away here. I believe in conserving money too, and last I checked, many of the recycled products out there cost upwards of 20% more than their first generation counterparts. I guess it’s important to find a balance. If we each just do a little more to brighten our shade of “green” think of how much brighter the world would be!

Links:

• Visit this really cool link for some flash-based stats: BreathingEarth 
• What’s your Live Impact? Find out how you compare to others in your community.
• Visit earthlab.com to see how you can reduce your environmental impact.
• Green shopping at Gaiam and Recycline.
• Learn more about conservation at the US Department of Energy’s Fuel Conservation Site. You can also find out how “green” your car is.
• Learn more about recycling at earth911

Hey! Don’t make fun of my haboobs!

ha·boob – (he-bōōb’) n. A penetrating sandstorm or dust storm with violent winds, occurring chiefly in Arabia, North Africa, and India.

Last May I was in Charleston, NC at a meeting. On the local morning news they were talking about how a “haboob” had worked its way across the Phoenix area. Having lived in Phoenix for over five years I wondered what the heck they were talking about. I looked up from applying my eyeliner and saw a photo similar to what you see above. “Oh,” I thought, “it’s just a dust storm.”

Every late spring/early summer, maybe every 8-10 days or so, we get these dust storms. In fact, we’re overdue right now. The storms always seem to hit during the evening commute, between about 4pm and 6pm, though of course not always on a weekday – that would just be eerie. They disrupt traffic, coat our cars with a veil of desert dirt, deposit leaves and branches into our swimming pools and blow empty trash barrels around in the streets. As the first big snowstorm was always the big local news story in New York, the first dust storm of the year is always big local news here.

If you’re lucky you might get to see an actual tumbleweed blow by in front of you on the freeway – yes, just like in Roadrunner cartoons and John Wayne movies. If you’re really lucky, the storm might even bring a drop or two of rain – usually BIG drops, though few and far between.

If we’re at home, we usually have to run out to the back yard and rescue the patio chairs from certain doom: Blowing into our swimming pool. Blinking back the dirt from our eyes and attempting to ignore the grittiness in our teeth, we rush to make sure anything that isn’t nailed down is either brought inside or tethered. Potted plants overturn, hummingbird feeders whip in the wind and I’ve even seen the patio umbrellas take off from neighbors’ back yards like kites. If we’re not at home when one blows through, we can only cross our fingers and hope for the best.

Yes, it’s all very cool to watch, and you’d better like it because there ain’t nothin’ on TV while this storm is happening – the satellite isn’t likely to be getting much of a signal what with all the hubbub going on outdoors. But the good news is, it’s all likely to be over in 30-45 minutes and we can go out back to retrieve our forgotten pool towels from the bottom of the hot tub.

Getting back to my recollection of that Charleston morning news broadcast last year, I watched as the newscasters made fun of Phoenicians and our “haboobs”. Their taunting made us out to look like wierdos who enjoy some sort of strange vocabulary – though I was more than slightly insulted since I had obviously never heard anyone refer to a “dust storm” in such a manner. Karma came only moments later, in the next story when the plasticized, big-haired news “reporter” was interviewing an alligator expert about a recent increase in Florida alligator attacks.

BIG HAIR: “So, Mr. Davis, tell me. If an alligator comes at you, what should you do?”

ALLIGATOR EXPERT: (pausing to look at her in disbelief) “Well, you RUN.”

Well, duh!

Our monthly excuse to get together and drink

Well, we don’t just drink, we eat too. A lot. And chat. And oh yeah, play a silly little game called BUNCO (aka “Drunko Bunco”).

On the second Friday of each month (including tonight), twelve fun-loving ladies get together for our “girls night out” only it’s actually at one of our houses, somewhere in my neighborhood. Each month, one of us is the hostess, who provides the grub and goes shopping for the prizes. After we all eat the delicious meal she’s prepared (or sometimes purchased), we play usually 7-8 rounds of BUNCO, rotating between three tables of four chairs all night. By the end of the game we’ve spent time with just about each gal. If we’re lucky enough to win one of the prizes – ranging from a faux designer handbag to a set of Gold Canyon Candles to a bottle of the latest Aveda bath product – that’s just a bonus. Sure, the prizes are nice, but the real reason we love it is that we get to spend uninterrupted time with each other over a couple glasses of wine or margaritas (except of course for those members who are expecting and must suffer with the Virgin counterparts). It’s fun to chat about the latest neighborhood activities, bitch about our jobs and discuss our latest shopping finds.

And what do the guys do while we’re playing? Well they’re doing about the same thing at another neighbor’s house – only they don’t play the game of course, they’re more likely to be watching the Suns or Diamondbacks on TV. And I doubt they’re talking about any cute shoes they found at Dillard’s.

When we’re all done playing for the night – about 9 or 9:30 – some of us go home, but many of us join the guys for the “afterparty”. Boy, it’s funny how happy a bunch of guys can be when they see their women strolling into the room all boozed up. I have my bottle of Italian red all lined up for tonight – let’s see if I feel much like doing my Saturday morning chores tomorrow!