An Illinois Earthquake

Yep, that's right. I experienced my first earthquake last night. And I almost slept through the whole darn thing.

According to the USGS, it was a 5.2 that occurred at approximately 4:37 a.m. And it was felt outside of Illinois, from Ohio to Des Moines.

Right about that time, Conservative Boy and I awoke to the sound of Butter barking. Butter doesn't bark much, so this was a bit startling.

In my fuzzy, still mostly asleep mindset, I realized I was holding onto my nightstand because it was shaking. My far-from-lucid thought was that my alarm clock must've been off-balance so it was causing my nightstand to shake. I know, it makes no sense at all, but at the time it seemed logical!

As the nightstand was shaking, I asked Conservative Boy what Butter was barking at and he said, oh, probably the rain. Although I wasn't awake enough to figure out what was going on with my nightstand, I knew it wasn't raining out, so that really puzzled me. But I was too tired to argue so once Butter stopped barking I rolled over and went back to sleep.

The end. Until we heard on the radio this morning that it was an earthquake. In Illinois? Big thunderstorms. Tornadoes. The occasional blizzard. Flash flooding. These are things I expect in Illinois. But an earthquake? That's a new one. I guess Conservative Boy's buddy who bought earthquake insurance here last week wasn't so crazy after all. (Does he know something we don't?)

Remembering Grandpa Charlie

I save the sounds of you coming home from work. First the screen door creaking open, then the screen door slamming shut. Although I cannot remember them exactly, I save the greetings you call out as you stop in the entryway to remove your worn cowboy hat and turquoise jacket. (Did you yodel at us—or was that later?)

You kiss Grandma on the cheek, sneak a cookie or two from the kitchen, poke at my sister and I playfully, then plop down on the blue couch in your usual spot closest to the TV. Here you’ll remove your cowboy boots. It’s never an easy process, always requiring more than a little grunting and groaning, but when at last you get the darn things off, you set them beside the couch. Lean back. Wiggle your sock-clad toes, sweaty from a day of unsuccessful attempts at car sales.

Once you turn on the basketball game, you settle deeper into your seat, resting your arms over your round belly. I notice then—and this I save—that your feet don’t quite touch the ground. Before the buzzer sounds to end the first quarter, you’ll be asleep—there’s no question. You’ll rest your head in your right hand, elbow propped on the arm of the couch, and begin to snore. “Charlie, you’re snoring,” Grandma will say, and you’ll shake yourself awake. This won’t last long—this I save.

I never knew you back then, when you smoked and drank too much. Still, I’ll save forever the fact that you’ve been sober nearly exactly as long as I’ve been alive. Every year, when we’d visit for Thanksgiving, we’d have your favorite chocolate cake with thick, dark chocolate frosting to celebrate the anniversary. A sobriety birthday celebration. This I will save.

Somewhere in there, though I only remember it from stories I’ve heard, I’ll save all the times I sat at the table in the camper and ate spoonfuls of butter from the dish with you. I’ll save the caffeine-free Diet Coke you drank, the forays into the kitchen for a midnight snack or two. Or three.

Forever I’ll save learning to ride horses, to race barrels, to rope the electric steer that cruised slow circles in your barn. I’ll save watching you rope in real rodeos—though I can’t remember if you were a header or if you went for the calf’s feet. I’ll save the best birthday gift I ever received from you—Gypsy, the first horse that was really, truly my own. I’ll save your belt—not the buckles you won, which will be dispersed among us grandchildren when you truly leave us, but the brown leather back of your belt—that reveals your nickname. Hon Chas. Honest Charles.

The hardest loss of all is when you lose someone who is still here. This, too, I will save. I imagine you every day, sitting in that nursing home. Someday, when we find it, I promise I’ll save your mind for you. I’ll be your memory. I’ll save every moment that you’ll give me. The playful memories of childhood, the hard times, and most of all every second—right down to the butter eating—I was able to share with you.

I wonder every day if you remember me, if you know who I am. This I will not save for long. Only until I have a new memory of you.

* * *
I wrote this a couple of years ago about my grandfather, who passed away this evening. Another thing I'll save? The photo above of him (with me!). Photos and memories of my granddad. Now that is what I will save.

To Be a Movie Extra

OK. Not really. I can't say that I'll get to be an extra in a movie. But considering that downtown L-Town may be the site of the filming of a movie, who knows? Maybe I'll at least get to watch. We do have a pretty little square around the courthouse here, so I'm not that surprised it was picked.

Read about the movie and where in L-Town it will be shot here.

(By the way, it should come as no surprise to those of you who know him, but Conservative Boy thinks this will be his big break. He thinks movie-stardom becomes him. Ha.)

Letting Butter Talk

My name is Butter.

I have been in my new home for almost two weeks and am loving every minute of it.

My favorite thing to do in the whole world is sit in front of the living room window and watch the action outside—even if there’s not a soul or car out there anywhere. I wish I could sit here all day. That way I could make sure nothing moves.


Most the time when something does move I just grin happily at it and wag my tail. When I'm really excited, my tongue starts hanging out of my mouth. And it gets lower and lower and lower the happier I am. (I have a really long tongue, in case you were wondering.)

Like I said, I wish I could sit here all day. Only lots of times I have to spend most of the day in the office. My friend Julie is boring then because all she wants to do is work, although every once in a while when I go put my head in her lap and look up at her she can't resist petting me. Then she pats my back to let me know she has to get back to work and I run off to play with one of my fun toys in front of her desk. I love my toys (thanks, Aunt Net!), which I tear to shreds as fast as humanly possible. I can now dismantle a stuffed toy in under five minutes, right down to pulling out the little device inside it that makes noise. Pretty smooth, aren’t I? Only then Julie takes the toy away from me and I never see it again. That's kind of sad.

When I’m not sitting in front of my window or in the office I love taking long walks and playing in the backyard. I also love to follow people around—I will follow my family members around the house no matter what they are doing. I think I’m pretty helpful, actually. I always make sure they have someone to keep them company, which I think is an important job!

When I came here I was very hungry yet not very good at eating. Now I eat three solid meals a day and am much better about going potty only when I am outside. I've even learned to like doggie treats and (shh! don't tell!) people food too. And, luckily, my cough is almost gone too. Because you know what? Being a dog with bronchitis sucks.

Have I mentioned that I love to play? Mostly though, I just love to be petted. I want as much love as you're willing to give me, and then when you're all done petting me I'll come back and ask for more. You probably won't be able to resist. My family rarely does.

Sometimes I forget I’m not supposed to nip at people, but I hardly ever bark or whine. I guess I must be pretty good because my owners want to keep me around—they even came after me today when I ran after a squirrel and snapped my dog collar off. I ran around for a while and wasn’t sure what to do. Luckily when I was on my way home my friend Conservative Boy found me. The man sitting on the porch near us laughed at C.B. because he was wearing a suit when he picked me up and carried me to the Space Turtle. (I’m not a big fan of riding in the Space Turtle, so I tried to resist, but I guess C.B. really wanted me to go home with him. That makes me happy.)

Anyway, now I have a new collar and life is good because I’m back sitting in front of my window. Oh yes, life is good.

Composting (Part II)

As you may have read, I'm going to make my own compost bin this week. And I'm still itching to install a low-flow showerhead. If you're in the mood to do either (or, better yet, both!) of these things too, check out the handy videos Sierra Club has posted on its Earth Day 2008 website here. They only take a couple of minutes to watch—and there's also one on installing a water heater wrap, if you're so inclined.

More soon!

Composting

Guess what the mailman delivered on Friday?

Now, I know what most of you are saying: "What the heck is that? A fire hydrant with a handle?" Except for my sister. She's saying: "Why the heck would you buy that? All you need is a bowl on the counter."

Let me explain. It's a compost crock. I purchased it from Gardeners.com last week. The purpose of said compost crock is really quite simple: It sits on my kitchen countertop, and rather than tossing kitchen waste like eggshells, banana peels, potato skins, and coffee grounds in the garbage, I toss them in the crock. Then, when it's full, I'll take the crock outside to my as-yet-to-be-made compost bin and dump its contents inside the bin.

How about a fact: According to the EPA, food scraps and yard trimmings constitute 24 percent of the U.S. waste stream. But it’s easy to keep both out of the landfill by composting instead—and the result is the perfect fertilizer for your yard!

Because I’m trying to minimize how much waste makes the trip from our house to the landfill, and because I’m about to embark on a great gardening adventure, I decided it was a good time to try my hand at composting.

If you’re interested in learning more about the topic, I’ve written a much more detailed post about it at The Home Know-It-All—it touches on why composting is great, how to do get started, and even some troubleshooting tips should you need them.

In the meantime, stay tuned. This week I’ll be making my own compost bin for the backyard. (I was going to do it today, but the cold weather is deterring me.) And you can expect periodic updates on how the compost is progressing. Thrilling isn’t it?

For now, this is all I have in my handy crock.



But don't worry, it will be filled soon.

But wait, you say. What did the boys in your house think about this endeavor?

You may be surprised to know that one was quite interested and the other actually didn’t seem to mind too much. My fearless buddy Butter was actually instrumental in helping to remove the compost crock from the box. Maybe he didn't actually do anything, but he did sit beside me and happily wag his tail the whole time. (He also helped me make banana bread and load the dishwasher this morning. Here he is after he got to sample the banana bread. Fortunately he's not afraid of the camera anymore—just intensely curious about what it is.)


Conservative Boy was less interested in the crock, but didn’t protest like I thought he would. His first reaction was, of course: “A what?!” But after that he shrugged and went about what he was doing. Later, his main question was: “Is it going to smell?” That’s why I intentionally bought a nice compost crock for the countertop rather than using a more DIY approach—it looks better than having a pile of food waste in a bowl, and it has a handy charcoal filter in the lid so you don’t smell a thing. So that takes care of that. Although he still threw his eggshells away today.

Remember, it's baby steps people.

Watching The Other Boleyn Girl

I’m not much of a movie-reviewer. Or a movie watcher for that matter. (Which is why we’ve had the same two Netflix movies for about two months now.)

But when I heard that The Other Boleyn Girl was coming out, I knew I had to see it. And so I did last week with Conservative Mom.

The thing is, I’m a cynic when it comes to movies based on books—especially books I’ve read and enjoyed. Rarely have I ever found the movie to be better than—or even close to as good as—the book. I’m a reader. I’m a lover of words. That’s the way I’ll always be.

Plus I heard that this particular movie wasn’t as good as it was originally expected to be. But I decided I still had to see it, because I’ve been a sucker for Philipa Gregory’s historical fiction since two Christmases ago, when I picked up my mom’s copy of The Other Boleyn Girl and, although up until that point I would never have considered myself a fan of her sort of historical fiction, I was hooked.

I read the novel as fast as I could (it's a quick read despite its heft) and became thoroughly caught up in the historical drama that was the reign of the Tudors. Since then, I’ve read quite a few of her other novels and enjoyed them as well. This sort of novel may not be at the top of my “quality” reading list, but it’s a great escape from the usual books I read. (Who doesn’t like a lusty court and a bit of royal intrigue thrown in among all that nonfiction reading?)

Besides (please don’t laugh at this fact), since I was a child, I’ve always dreamed that one day someone would perfect the art of time travel so I could experience all the historical periods I so often imagine. Depending on what held my interest at the time, I’ve wanted to homestead a la Little House on the Prairie, live it up in the roaring ’20s, you name it. And spending a bit of time amidst the Tudor court would be high on my list too. That’s why I love reading these books, and why I was excited to see the movie.

Anyhow, I’ve digressed a bit. Funny how often that happens. Back to the movie.

As I expected, the costumes were much better in the movie than in my mind. The colors, the textures, the mood, the dark, damp buildings and the dreary scenery. It was all much like I pictured it, but somehow much more vivid. And I thought the casting was pretty fabulous too—but who wouldn’t say that, with Scarlett Johansson and Natalie Portman as the leads?

The plot, however? And the character development? Not quite up to snuff, in my very unprofessional opinion.

All the way through the book, I rooted for Mary (Scarlett Johansson). In the movie, she was just kind of there—cleavage and misguided love for King Henry in tow, but not a whole lot else going on there.

The movie just zips through things like all movies do—forget about the depths of the family ambition, the subplots, the slow pace at which the initial romance between the King and Mary comes about. In one scene, she’s getting married (to a guy we don't really see after that). In the next, she’s pregnant with the King’s baby. OK. Maybe not quite that quickly. But close.

It’s probably better that it’s been a couple of years since I read the book, because it wasn’t quite as easy to point off the discrepancies in the film. But I knew from the get-go things were “off.” Every once in a while, Conservative Mom and I would look at one another and say, “I don’t think that’s right.”

And, most of the time, we were right. The movie focused a lot on the bitter sister rivalry between the two lead characters, which I don't recall from the book. And in the book, the girls’ mother is as ruthless and power-hungry as the rest of the Boleyn-Howard clan, while in the movie she’s concerned with the interests of her girls. I could go on ... about how the king violently "took advantage of" (to put it nicely) Anne before they actually married ... about how Mary suddenly married again, although we never heard what happened to her first husband. And at the end? The whole almost-incestuous relationship between Anne and her brother George? Not quite how it was depicted in the book. (In the novel, there wasn't an "almost.")

Learn more about the inaccuracies from this AV Club article. Or just go see it yourself. Even if it's not all that accurate to history or the book, it's still an entertaining, visually pleasing romp through Tudor England's rocky past.

Going to a Cubs Game

Yes, that's right. I went to my first Cubs game in Chicago on Sunday. Because Conservative Boy is a die-hard Cubs fan (you know, the kind that says every single year that this is the year, that the Cubbies are going to win the World Series), because I don't really have a team (it's hard to have a team when you grow up in a state without a single pro sports team), and because I am now an Illinoisan (is that what I'm called now?), I now root for the Cubs. (Besides, I've been a fan of the Iowa Cubs for a few years now, so jumping up to the majors is a logical next step, right?)

So Conservative Boy and I hopped the train yesterday morning for the day o' Cubs. As usual, we had some delays, so we were pushing it to arrive in time for the first pitch. In fact, at the point we were going over this bridge, not quite to Union Station yet, we only had approximately 38 minutes in which to make it to our seats. (That little time stamp, if you can see it, says 4:42, but it was really 12:42.)


Needless to say, we didn't make it for the first pitch. But close.

Now, I've never been to Chicago in early April, but from what I hear the weather on Sunday was pretty unusual. Mid-sixties and sunny. Absolutely perfect. From our rooftop seats, we were able to wear jeans and t-shirts and feel perfectly comfortable. Lovely.

Rooftop you ask? Yep, we weren't actually in the stadium. We were across the street, on the roof. For $75 each, we had great seats (as evidenced by the view below—you can't even really tell we weren't in the stadium, can you?) and all the food we could eat (you know, brats, burgers, chips, ice cream) and beer we could drink. Not a bad deal considering how much a hot dog and a Bud Light sets you back in the stadium.


So there we were. Great weather, great seats, lots of food and beer and fun with C.B.'.s friends. Plus the Cubbies won, so you can't beat that. Which was good, because that meant I actually got to hear the whole crowd sing the "Go Cubs Go" song, a welcome change after having to listen to C.B. sing it for a good part of the three-hour train ride to the Windy City.

Will I go back for more Cubs games? Oh yes, anytime. Although I wouldn't mind actually sitting in the stadium next time. Gotta get the whole experience. Bleacher seats maybe?

Oh, and I have to get a Cubs shirt. I didn't have one this time, which made me one of, oh, maybe five people in Wrigleyville on Sunday not wearing a the big red C on my chest. And I'm pretty sure I was the only one in a Wyoming Cowboys t-shirt. Brown and gold really clashes with blue and red on Sundays in Chicago, just so you know.

Owning a Dog

This is Butter.


Butter is our new dog. Butter came to live with us yesterday morning, when I picked him up (freshly neutered) from the animal shelter.

Conservative Boy picked out Butter’s name. Butter is actually Butter Jr., because Butter is Conservative Boy’s nickname among his high school buddies. So now I live with Butter Sr. and Butter Jr. Who doesn’t like a lot of butter in life? Yum.

Some great alternate names were suggested by my coworkers yesterday in the off chance Butter doesn’t stick. Haha, butter stick. Didn’t mean that at all. But it’s funny.

Parkay. Oleo. Country Crock. I can’t believe it’s not Butter.

I’d hate to have to yell, “I can’t believe it’s not Butter, come here!” though, so I think Country Crock will be my backup name.

Anyhow. In case you couldn’t tell, Butter is a yellow lab. He needs a bath and some more brushing because he’s shedding like a mad man. He also needs fattened up, because he’s insanely skinny. But after that? He’ll be absolutely lovely, won’t he? (I do, however, need to teach him how to sit for photos. Every time I think I have the perfect shot, he runs away at the last second. So I have lots of pictures of Butter’s butt. I’ll work on that this weekend.)


So far Butter has been a relatively good dog. Once he got over his fears of actually coming into the house, he set about exploring almost immediately. And, much to my excitement (because we have no idea how old Butter is, let alone if he’s house trained), he listened relatively well to “sit” and “no” yesterday. And, joy of all joys, he only peed outside!

Butter behaved rather well yesterday while I worked (aside from pulling over a coat tree in my office). All he really wants it attention. Lots of it. He doesn’t have any interest in toys or dog treats or anything of that nature. All he wants is to be petted. Which I can handle. Except it’s hard to pet a dog all day long while you’re trying to type. (If anyone has figured out a good way to do this, let me know.)

Here Butter is trying to distract me from work. Bad dog.


We did discover last night, however, that Butter has no interest in going into his crate when we leave the house or when it’s bedtime. It takes both Conservative Boy and I and all our brute strength to get him in there. Fortunately he’s still a scrawny fella.

I’ve never owned a dog before, so this is going to be a real adventure. Particularly in light of the fact that Butter eats too fast, which led him to puke up some rather unfriendly, whole, bright red pieces of dog food right when we were going to bed last night. Fun.

And he pooped (a lot, because we had yet to get him to poop outside) in the living room this morning in the five minutes C.B. and I were both busy. Now I’m questioning whether I’m cut out for this job. And people my age have kids? Yikes.

Expect to hear more about Butter soon. But I promise, I won’t spend every day yapping about my dog and his exploits, like proud parents do to people who could care less about their kids. Really, I promise.

Oh, but did I mention what Butter just did? It was so cute … (Really. He's snoozing right now and just tipped over. It was cute.)

More Green Moves Around the House

So in my haste to post some of the environmentally friendly moves I’ve made around the house, I forgot a few keys. Silly me. So here are some more:

Adjusting the thermostat. Did you know that you can save 3 to 5 percent more energy for each degree below 68 degrees Fahrenheit you set your thermostat in cold weather or for each degree above 78 degrees you set your thermostat in warm weather? We definitely didn’t go higher than 68 degrees with our thermostat during the winter, although admittedly we didn’t turn it down as low as I would’ve liked because I discovered that my office (where I sit all day) is the coldest room in the house. And I have dreadful circulation. Let me tell you, trying to type when your fingers are white and numb is no fun. And I’m not exaggerating there.

Turning off lights. Sometimes I forget. But whenever I think of it, I wander through the house turning off lights that don’t need to be on. Want to take it a step further? Install motion sensor lights. (Photo: massdistraction)

Shutting off the water. I turn off the water when I’m brushing my teeth, washing my face, or anything of that nature. I cringe whenever Conservative Boy leaves the water running at full force while he shaves every other morning, but it’s baby steps here. At least he shuts the water off when brushing his teeth now.

Installing faucet aerators. To reduce how much water gets used for things like Conservative Boy's shaving, I bought an aerator for the bathroom faucet this weekend. Talk about a cheap and easy project. It cost a couple of bucks and screws onto the faucet in a minute.

Saying no to bottled water. My friend Rachel reminded me of this one. That’s what my trusty SIGG water bottle is for. And I’m a big fan of those crazy inventions called water fountains and drinking glasses. The only time I buy bottled drinks of any kind is when I’m at a sporting event where I can’t sneak my own bottle in or on the road when I desperately need a soda to stay awake.

Taking shorter showers. I just started consciously working on this one this weekend. I've been timing my showers and so far have made it out in under five minutes. (Of course, there hasn't been any major leg-shaving involved yet, so I have a bit work to do on this front.) Sometimes it just feels so nice to stand under that hot water for a while … but I’m trying to wean myself off of that habit.

Speaking of showers, we have a leaky tub faucet that hasn’t been fixed yet and I feel really guilty about that because it’s been going on for a couple of weeks and it’s pretty bad. So that’s near the top of my list of home repairs. I’ve been catching all the dripping water in a bowl and using it to fill Walker’s water bowl (when he was here last week) and water plants. I can’t keep up though, so there’s a full pitcher on the counter and the bowl in the tub is full again. Since I can’t bring myself to dump it out, I either need to get a repair going pronto or get a big bucket for storing all that wasted water in so I can use it for other things—maybe washing the car or watering the plants outside (once they’re actually planted).

Shutting off my computer. This goes along with the whole concept of phantom loads. But shutting off your computer each night saves a lot more energy than putting it in sleep mode; and contrary to popular belief, turning your computer on and off each day isn’t harmful to it in any way.

Replacing the HVAC filter. For a more energy-efficient HVAC system (and better air quality), you should replace the filter at least every three months. And when your system is working the hardest (like through the winter), monthly replacement may be necessary. I missed the boat on that one but did finally replace ours this weekend. Better late than never, right?

More soon!

Quote-Worthy Moments

Why not share an inspiring or entertaining quote or anecdote on occasion? Here's today's, which a coworker of mine stumbled upon:

"I'm a big believer in mulch. I don't know how I survived without long underwear, flannel sheets, and mulch."

Amen to that. The rest of the article is serious, but I just love a good lede.

Freelance Writing

I was chatting with a friend the other day who was lamenting how much she was dreading the job search she likely will undertake soon—updating resumes, sending letters, for all practical purposes "selling" herself to potential employers—and I realized that when you're a freelance writer you are, essentially, in a constant state of job searching. Only instead of a full-time job with built-in opportunities for career advancement, benefits, and the works, when you land a freelance gig, that success only yields a single writing assignment.

And then what do you do? You start all over. Updating resumes. Sending query letters. Selecting the right clips. Selling yourself. For the majority of us who aren't sought-after, big-name writers penning celebrity interviews or thought-provoking essays on demand for top-tier publications, it's an almost-constant cycle.

Granted, at this point in my life I'm fortunate enough that I have a full-time job (doing what I love, namely writing and editing books and magazines). And I have relatively steady freelance income copy editing and proofreading. So as long as that stays the same, I'm not going to be fretting over whether my queries will pay the bills or put food on the table.

Yet I'm still dying to write more. To get my name out there and start getting more of those "yes, please" responses and fewer "no, thanks."

Only it's hard work. It takes a lot of time, more time than I've had lately.

A story query can't be taken lightly. You have to know the magazine you want to write for, inside and out. You have to look into your crystal ball and figure out what stories have already been done, which ones are in the works already, and what won't ever be done. You have to try, as impossible as it sounds, to figure out what the heck the editor you're pitching to is going to like, what she's thinking, even when you've never met her before and probably never will.

What proposal is going to strike a chord when she's likely stressed, overwhelmed, overworked, underpaid, and battling a never-ending barrage of query emails from folks who don't have a clue what they're talking about? That's what you, the intrepid freelance writer, must figure out. Which clips will she find most interesting? Which job should be played up more in the resume? Should the whole package be sent by email or snail mail? How formal should the greeting be?

Welcome to the mind of a freelance writer.

And the clincher is that no matter how stellar the story idea is or how well-researched your query letter might be, if the editor isn't into it on any given day, you're out of luck. The end. Sayonara. Try again, sister.

I've sent a select few queries out in the last year and most have been met with no response or a big fat no. It's a game of chance, really. Especially when you're breaking into a publication you've never written for before. In one instance I had the perfect idea, pitched it to the perfect publication. The only problem? They'd just assigned a similar story for an upcoming issue of the magazine. Too slow. Another time, I sent out a hastily penned query for a story I was incredibly excited to write, only to get a terse "not interested" email two days later. At least I got a response though. The editors a freelancer never hears back from—no matter how many attempts are made—may be the most puzzling and frustrating creatures in the world.

Expect to hear more about the trials and tribulations of this a less-than-part-time freelance writer soon. I sent out another query last week. Any bets on whether they'll say yes?

Weekend Projects

It was a pretty busy weekend in the Julie-Conservative Boy household. Here's a look at what was accomplished:

• A trip to the library for the following must-reads: Month-by-Month Gardening in Illinois; Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life by Barbara Kingsolver; and Adoptable Dog: Teaching Your Adopted Pet to Obey, Trust, and Love You. Who's excited about this week's reading selection? I sure am.
  
  
• Bathroom cleaning, which was done by Conservative Boy for the first time since we moved. He did a swell job except for the fact that I yelled at him for using paper towels rather than the nice pile of cleaning rags in the closet. I felt bad after I yelled when he told me he didn't know that was an option because he'd only ever used paper towels. But now he knows. And I promised to work on not being such a green-nazi. Oh, and he, of course, used the random bottle of Fantastik in the closet rather than my Seventh Generation supplies. I don't think the bathroom has ever smelled that chemical-y (well, at least not until Sunday ... more about that later in this post). When Conservative Boy got done cleaning, he was complaining about being dizzy. And even later, when we were shopping and passed some cleaning supplies, he said he still felt weird. "Hmm," I said, very kindly now that I'd turned over a new leaf and put my green ranting behind me, "I wonder why." He still insists, though, that the green cleaning supplies won't work well. But I'm thinking this might be an easier sell than I originally expected—now that C.B. discovered how terrible the chemicals in normal cleaning supplies are, it's only a matter of time before I convert him. Muahaha. I don't know about you, but I prefer not passing out, coughing uncontrollably, and losing a copious amount of brain cells unnecessarily every time I scrub the shower.
  
  
• The purchase of some swell gardening and dog-owning supplies (nope, not spilling the beans yet ... evil, aren't I?)
  
  
• Some yard clean-up (man, we have a lot of sticks in our yard!)
  
  
• A trip to Ace Hardware, which involved, among other things, the purchase of an aerator for the bathroom faucet so I can reduce the amount of water we use for toothbrushing and other faucet-related duties.
  
  
• Some grill fixing (it works on propane now, which means we also were able to have a crowd of basketball fanatics over for some grilling, NCAA tournament watching, and washer throwing Saturday night)
  
  
• Bathroom painting. Yep, I painted the bathroom walls white to cover up the dingy, smudged, rather sad-looking paint from before. This new white paint really accentuates our fabulous aqua-color wall tiles and fixtures. Let me tell you. I will say, however, that I made a boo boo that I'm incredibly mad about. I bought my usual Sherwin-Williams Harmony no-VOC paint, and I thought I was getting the low-VOC primer too (had to use primer in this room because I was painting over glossy paint, otherwise I wouldn't have messed with it). But after I started applying the darn primer, I realized it wasn't low-VOC after all. The realization was instant the moment the fumes overtook me. Terrible. But at that point it was too late to return the paint, so I forged on. (Side note: Using regular primer with no-VOC paint is like installing your incredibly eco-friendly flooring with the same chemical-loaded adhesives used for normal flooring. Just stupid.) I suppose the scent would've been even worse had I not followed the primer with no-VOC paint, but I'm still mad because I can just imagine all the chemicals that will be offgassing from the walls for the next five years now. Not happy. Not healthy. And it still stinks—literally.

Despite the chemical-related setbacks, not a bad busy weekend, eh?

Dog Sitting (Part 2)

So the great adventures in dog sitting have come to an end. Walker is back at his own house now, anxiously awaiting the arrival of his parents later tonight. OK, realistically he probably has no clue they're on their way home. But he'll greet them with absolute joy when they walk in the door, that's for certain. That's just the way he is.

It's actually a bit lonely and quiet in here now that he's gone. I got used to Walker sitting beside me, staring up at me with his "what are you doing" eyes and looking so darn excited to see me every time I walked into the room.

I hear that for those who know Walker personally, my last post on him came across as a bit negative. That's not how it was supposed to sound at all! Sure, I was poking a little bit of fun at him (actually, more so at his family than him). But can anyone really disagree with this statement: he's spoiled. It's true. He's the baby of the family. That's usually how it works.

But Walker is also a very well behaved, well mannered, wonderful dog. (And he's beautiful to boot.) We developed a nice routine this week, from our 6:30 a.m. wandering around the front and back yards to our lunchtime walks down the alley to our after-work jaunts around the neighborhood. He was absolutely sweet the entire week except for (1) when someone would come to the door—then he'd go into guard-dog mode unlike any I've seen from him before, but I guess that's a good thing and (2) when we came back from the animal shelter and he smelled another dog on me ... shortly after that, he pounced on my computer cords while I was working and almost pulled the entire computer off my desk. Other than that? He was an absolute angel.

In fact, I wouldn't mind keeping him. Although I don't know if Conservative Boy would go for that. He still harbors older brother resentment. Although I think after the last day or so they're on better terms—he even got up and took Walker for his walk this morning. (Although it wasn't, of course, at 6 a.m.)

All in all? It was good practice. And we'll only be dog-free for a few days anyway. Why, you ask? Well, you'll just have to wait and see and stop back later this week to find out!

Going Green Around the House

In case you haven’t noticed yet, I’ve been bitten by the “green” bug and am always looking for ways that I can conserve energy and water, reduce my environmental footprint, and save money too. Moving from an apartment to a house has opened up a ton of new possibilities for ways that I can “go green” at home. But I’m finding that although I have a monstrous wish list of things I want to do, finding the time, money (yes, some of these changes can be expensive), and energy doesn’t happen overnight.

Still, I think I’ve made progress. In the few months I’ve lived in L-town, here’s a sampling of what I’ve done:

Painting with low-VOC products. I will say this: standard paints offgas volatile organic compounds (VOCs) that are bad for the environment and bad for your health (paint is one of the leading causes of indoor air pollution, people!). But low- or no-VOC paints release few (if any) of those nasty pollutants and are almost odorless. I won’t go into the details of my personal experience here though, because you can learn all about how I (along with Conservative Mom) painted with low-VOC paint by checking out my post about it on The Home Know-It-All.

Replacing burned out bulbs with CFLs. Let’s see. I have compact fluorescent lightbulbs in all my new lamps, in the garage, and the overhead light in my office. It’s a start. I refuse to replace bulbs that are still working (wasteful!), but as soon as more burn out, you can bet that CFLs are going in their place. Why? Because they use approximately 75 percent less energy and last up to 10 times longer than standard incandescent bulbs. Even Conservative Boy sees their value (as I mentioned here).

Unplugging, unplugging, unplugging. Why? To ward off phantom loads, people. All those chargers and appliances you have plugged in are sucking energy—even when they’re not in use. Don’t believe me? According to the U.S. Department of Energy, 75 percent of the electricity used to power home electronics is consumed when they’re off. Really. But all you have to do to stop those nasty energy suckers is unplug them! Learn more (again, from me!), in this post.

Running only full loads. This applies to both the dishwasher and the clothes washer. I don’t run either machine until I have a full load. And when it comes to the dishwasher, I always air dry (it can cut dishwasher energy consumption by as much as 50 percent). With the clothes washer, I wash everything on cold. And air dry whatever I can get to fit on my drying rack and the ironing board.

Full disclosure: Although I will admit that I’ve read about and even recommended just scraping, not rinsing, dishes before putting them in the dishwasher, I don't follow this recommendation. Rinse first and you can waste upwards of 20 gallons of water unnecessarily. But I’ve discovered that with our old dishwasher it doesn’t work. If I don’t thoroughly rinse first, I either have to re-wash a bunch of dishes by hand or send them through another load. Hah. That saves a lot of water. Looks like a new Energy Star dishwasher is moving up on the appliance wish list.

Recycling. Of course. Even though I’ve discovered that not many people here know this, you can get recycling bins in L-town, and they do curbside pickup every other week. Needless to say, our bin is always loaded full with newspaper, magazines, cardboard, plastic, and cans. And I have quite a collection of glass bottles and jars that I need to haul to the recycling center in town since we can't put those out with the rest of the recyclables.

Reusing. I reuse the back of printed paper like it’s my job. And I rinse off plastic baggies, aluminum foil, you name it to use again—until Conservative Boy catches me, gets annoyed, and throws my reused packaging away. I also used old dish towels and washcloths past their prime for cleaning rags. I’m still working on more ways to reuse more items around the house before discarding them, so if you have other ideas let me know. Oh, and you already knew this, but I’m a big proponent of reusable shopping bags.

Buying organic. There’s actually a decent organic selection at the Kroger in town (surprised? I was), so I’ve been buying a lot more organic products (milk, eggs, produce, coffee, whatever I can get) now. Conservative Boy’s friends made fun of my organic ketchup, but whatever.

Cleaning green. I use green cleaning supplies for almost all of my cleaning (except the floors; our laminate and tile floors are still babies so I’m carefully using the cleaner that came with them until it’s gone). Once this batch of green cleaners runs out, I’m going to try making my own. (Wanna learn more about why you should clean green? Just check out another one of my The Home Know-It-All posts!) Oh, and my personal cleaning is green too—I use natural hand soap, body wash, shampoo, and conditioner now.

That seems like a pretty hefty list, but honestly, it barely scratches the surface of what I could do. I have a long way to go. Conservative Boy set me back a bit by turning up the water heater, much to my chagrin. But for now I’ll just have to make up for that extra energy use in other ways (you can only do so much with a man who refuses to take anything but scalding hot showers).

You think I’m done rambling? Ha. Think again. I could go on about this stuff for hours. (Which is probably why, whenever I spout off another random fact related to energy or water savings, Conservative Boy makes a comment like: “What’s that for? Chapter 22?”) So expect more soon.

Oh wait, I almost forgot to ask. What are YOU doing?