Desperately Seeking People Who Are Cooler Than I Am

Traffic school this morning. Hmm. Drive or bike? Better not take any chances. Bike it is, then. So then I think to myself, “Every chance I go out on a bike, I have the opportunity to proselytize my mission.” (Oh, I know I live in Utah, and when I say “bike” and “proselytize” you have a certain picture in mind. It’s not that kind of mission. Though, yes, I have done that kind of mission. Note: biking + skirts = a jumbled mess of lost dignity.) No, this mission is regarding the “cool-ification” of biking.

And with that, Operation “Make Biking Look Cool” is a go.

Outfit comprised of clothes given to me by, or purchased at stores frequented by, chic people? Check. Sunglasses? Check. Sassy heels? Check. Ready? Go. That’s right, work that helmet, girl. By the way, good job on fluffing your hair out the sides like that instead of pulling it back into a ponytail; hair flowing in the breeze really enhances the sex-appeal of a bicycle helmet. And that purple string keeping your pant leg out of the gears really adds a great pop of color around your calf. Nice. Ooh, stoplight ahead. Don’t worry; you can do this. Smoothly take your wedge sandal off the pedal . . . no, don’t get snagged . . . and gently skim the sidewalk as you’re coming to a stop. Don’t trip, don’t trip, please, don’t trip. Ah, well done. Retain cool, calm, collected look on your face. Don’t look anyone in the eyes. Remaining aloof increases your allure and biker-chick prowess. That’s right, honey. When you get pulled over by a cop today, things will switch to slow-motion as you get off your bike, take off your helmet, shake out your hair and ask, with sultry, pouty lips, “What’s seems to be the trouble, Officer?” The only thing you’re going to hear is, "Ma’am, Miss, you have the right to remain foxy—you biking little minx, you.”

See, everyone, biking is cool.

Okay, so it didn’t quite play out like that. Who am I kidding? I tried really hard to look awesome. But, I don’t think I fooled anyone. Though I occasionally manage to mask it somewhat, I have always been . . . hmm . . . let’s just say, dork-esque. I just can’t seem to shake it. And so, it was on this bike ride to adult detention that I realized my new mission needed fresh faces to sell it properly. So, if you are cool or know somebody who is, please accept my invitation and challenge: get out there and bike. People will be inspired by you. Or at least feel socially inferior and therefore peer-pressured by you into doing it. Please. I need you to do what I cannot. Your influence will spread and soon we will solve all the world’s problems. Or maybe just the world’s energy crises.

No? Still too melodramatic? Okay, then, maybe just my gas budget.

And my speeding ticket budget.

Come and get me, Copper! You in hot pursuit? Or, rather, in pursuit of hotness . . . {wink}? That’s right, Officer, eat my dust. Wait, . . . wait’ll I get up to speed. Nuts, my gears keep slipping. Hang on. Okay, I’ve got it, now. There we go, how’s THAT for speed? Wait, no, my pants are snagged on the frame. Hold on . . .

See what I mean? No one will EVER convert if I’M the spokesmodel.

{Tee hee--“spokes” model.}

Stop me now.

“You have the right to remain silent.”

What? No, I told you earlier. The line is: “You have the right to remain foxy—you biking little . . .”

Oh.

Note taken.

Moral-Superiority is Not a Joke

So, a vegan hyperlocavore and a flexitarian-forager walk into a bar, and the one says to the other . . .

What? You’ve heard this one already? Oh. Never mind.

In the “green” food market you see so many labels that can range from informative to annoyingly overused, from useless marketing gimmicks to social/global/environmental activism, from small farms to giant agribusiness conglomerates. You think you want to “go green,” but it’s hard to make sense of all the gibberish and you say to yourself, “Ah, they’re just making stuff up, now, just to mess with us.”

Here are a few definitions of more commonly used/heard labels:

“All-Natural”—Essentially means nothing. It’s a marketing ploy to make you think that the producers have harvested Goodness itself and made it ingestible. Don’t be fooled.

“Organic”—Label for food that was made without chemical pesticides/herbicides/antibiotics.

“Free range” or “cage free”—Refers to poultry and their eggs. Those phrases can be misleading. The loophole is that the chickens have to have *ACCESS* to the outside—at least a certain amount of time—for that label to be used. That label can be used by small to moderate farms with truly open-air pastures AND large agribusinesses where thousands of chickens are housed in huge warehouses with relatively small doors leading to the outside.

“Local”—Generally refers to food produced within 100 miles of the consumer. A “Locavore” is a person who eats local food. “Hyperlocavores” eat food produced within a few neighborhood blocks, such as backyard gardens.

“Vegetarian”—A person who abstains from meat. Though vegetarians do not eat meat, they may eat other animal products such as dairy or eggs (“Lacto-Ovo Vegetarians”).

“Flexitarian”—A person who often eats like a vegetarian, but occasionally eats meat, fish, or poultry.

“Vegan”—A person who abstains from any food or clothing produced by animals. That would include honey, eggs, wool, silk and, of course, leather.

“Fair Trade”—An example of fair trade is: 346 of my leftover Halloween fun-sized Three Musketeers bars for ONE 3-oz bar of 72%-cacao-content dark chocolate. Mmm, it’s the kind of chocolate that, after closing your eyes and drinking in the aroma, you simply put it to the roof of your mouth and just breathe* . . . ahhh, . . . Pure. Ecstasy . . .

. . .

. . . ahem, moving on . . . A label of “fair trade” advertises that the company pays its workers “living wages,” or enough money that the worker can remain above the poverty line. Coffee and chocolate are 2 of the most common products where you might find the “fair trade” label.

“Non-GMO”—“GMO” stands for “Genetically-Modified Organism” and means that scientists in a lab have engineered new versions of food. Two of the most common GM foods are soybeans and corn.

So, now that we know what these words mean, we can continue to be confused by our choices. It’s a tough thing to go shopping. How can I make the *right* purchases that will ensure my morally-superior position among my neighbors? Should I do “local” or “organic,” if I have to choose? Should I buy shoes that are “vegan” but made with synthetic materials, or shoes that are leather?

If we didn’t have to eat (or wear clothes—oh, but, thank goodness we do), we could really cut down our carbon footprint.

I know!

Stop eating everyone. (Wait, that should read “Stop eating, everyone.”)

Let’s just say “no” to eating the photosynthesizing “middle-men” in the fields and gardens and produce departments. Let’s get our energy straight from the source: the Sun. By becoming a “heliovore” you’ll definitely leave all those other seemingly “superior” people in the dust. (Note: But enjoy it while it lasts, because soon you will be dead. And, YOU will be the one left in the dust. Ironic, huh? But, SO worth it!)

Okay, back to the jokes. Have you heard this one? What do you call a heliovore who looks down on you? Ray. What about this one: so a heliovore walks into a bar and sits down next to a hyperlocavore and a flexitarian. They ask him, “What's your drink?”

“'Light' beer.”

Wait . . . did you just groan? I know. I'm sorry. But, I can't help it if I don't know very many good "bar" jokes. I live in Utah.

(*Phrase coined by a connoisseur of . . . well . . . just about anything from fine chocolate to potato flakes in his tomato juice.)

Green Living Woes: “Oh, No! I Don’t Have Enough Clothespins!! What Will I EVER Do?”

Boy, if I had a nickel for every time I’ve said that one . . .

Clothespin troubles keeping you down? Typical. Can’t find enough to handle each and every item in that mountain of laundry? You’re not alone. But, you’re in a pinch. Now what?

As I was hanging out the laundry on Wednesday, I remembered back to “That Other Warm Day” this spring—the “Inaugural Line-Drying Day” of the season. I recall that I was puzzlingly low on clothespins. What to do? And so, the creative solutions began. Here I bequeath my clothespin wisdom to you.

First off, to make things easier as I’m working, I like to clip a bunch of clothespins to the clothes that I am wearing (usually at the edge of my shirt or sequined gown).

Secondly, if you think there’s not a breeze strong enough to blow down your clothes, you clearly haven’t done line-drying enough. (It still happens to *seasoned veterans* like me—every now and again.) Note: it’s ALWAYS breezier than you think it is.

When faced with a clothespin shortage:

Double- or triple-up—use one clothespin to anchor the corners of 3 cloth napkins, pairs of panties, etc. This is intended only for smaller, thinner items—not full-sized terrycloth bathrobes.

Use the clothing’s own snaps, ribbons, or buttons to secure the item on the line. It works especially well with children’s pants, shirts, shorts, etc.

Wrap long sleeves around the line—once is sufficient. (Note to OCD sufferers out there: no,8 times is too many. Once, folks.)

Loosely tie together the legs of pjs, sweats, leggings, tights around the line—items on which wrinkles don’t matter as much.

If you have small plastic hangers for children’s clothing, use those to hang and dry small, lightweight items. Again, you could loop underwear (even several pair) over the hook and hang it like that.

End of clothespin advice.

And yet, there is so much more that can be said about line-drying.

(What’s with the incredulous look? I’ll have you know that my line-drying wisdom does not stop at mere clothespins.)

Stay tuned.

(Here are a couple of other short posts. Okay, so the first one is a bit of silliness . . . but the second one has real information.)