Thursday, November 01, 2007


I am turning green. I am so green, I feel like a turnip. I have listened to Al Gore and I believe what he says. We are carbonizing the atmosphere. I know this, because I just returned from New York. That many cars sending up that much exhaust can't be good, and you can multiply that by every city in the country. Even in our rural area, the traffic jam takes place daily and it's not the type of jam you can spread on bread.

First, I shall change my lightbulbs to the energy-saving variety. I might even use candles. Surely candles can't send very much carbon into the atmosphere, or can they? Well, I'll grope in the dark, then. No one can say I am not the greenest of green, so green I might be mistaken for a map of Ireland.

Plastic grocery bags are a problem, so I have to find cloth bags. The trouble is, with my amount of groceries, this bag will be as big as, or bigger than, a Hummer. I will have to use two grocery carts. One for my groceries, the other for my bag. It will take two stockboys to carry my bag of supplies and get it into my hybrid car. But, nevertheless, I am green.

Once home, I will lift out my bag and put away my groceries. Since my bag is too big to store in a cupboard, I shall use it to cover my couch, thus keeping Jedi off the cushions. Even Al Gore could see the wisdom in that!

That night, I am Barbequeing, using my home-grown Ethanol, made from corn from my garden. I am cooking vegetables, also from the garden, as well as a salad made from dandelion greens found in my front yard. The grass there is getting long, but I dare not use the mower, lest I send clouds of carbon into the atmosphere, so I tether my goat there and let him dine on the tall grass.

My big problem is the cow. Although she is giving me a healthy glass or two of milk every day, she continually leaves steamy piles around the yard which I understand give off greenhouse gases. Very odorous ones, too, I might add. Al wasn't quite clear about this, but I may have to have a long talk with that cow. Perhaps a little less fiber would do it.

I sleep at night on cotton sheets, with soft pillows made of down from my very own goose. He looks a little ratty since I plucked him, but I understand these feathers grow back in.

It gives a person a certain satisfaction, being green. It's better than being blue. Believe me, I have spent some time being blue, and that's not entertaining at all. I have been red, too, usually after a long sit in the sun. Green is much better, and you can feel good about saving the polar bears. They look pathetic, drenched in water, looking for ice that isn't there. I just can't figure out how to save them. There is no way to create a crust of ice over the ocean heavy enough to hold them up. There is no way to catch enough seals and fish to feed them. They aren't exactly conducive to becoming family pets. I guess they're doomed, unless we can all be green enough to save them and cool the Arctic again.

I'm doing my best. Green is good. I am saving trees, so I don't buy anything wooden any more. Nor do I buy plastic. Or paper. In fact, there's nothing much left to buy, unless I buy trees. That's the epitome of greenness. Save a tree, plant a forest. I love trees, but I can't say the same about leaves. One has to rake them in piles and then try to figure out how to corral them in one way or another. They aren't cooperate, flying here and there, crumbling, multiplying, driving one mad. You can't even enjoy the odor of burning leaves anymore. If you did, you'd probably enlarge that ozone hole by several inches.

Well, it's late. I'm going to bed. As I hug my down pillow, I shall enjoy a romantic dream of a secret tryst with Leonardo di Caprio. Together, we stroll down a country lane hand-in-hand, two Greens in a carbonated world, warming the Globe with our passion.