40 Bags, 40 Days, Recalibration

Progress has been slow in the 40 Bags in 40 Days project, because life has been busy. Even so, it's already shifted my thinking.

I counted March 18 and 19 as Day 11, with some culling in the linen closet. March 23 saw more progress. Day 12: I finally looked at the huge bag of notebooks and papers The Offspring brought home at the end of fourth grade; almost all of it went into paper recycling. Day 13: outgrown clothes. Day 14: toys. Day 15: An IKEA lamp with a too-dim bulb, sitting in a corner and never used. Day 16: a duct-taped sled, scavenged from the trash, back to the trash. Day 17: I finally framed my PhD and MPhil diplomas by putting them in the same frame with my MA. It's only been sixteen years. How does that count? There was a lot of packaging.

Meanwhile, what with one thing and another, I've lost some weight, and this morning I thought, "All my clothes are too big." I immediately imagined going shopping, but then the 40-bag purge project stalled the idea. Why lose all the momentum, all the space gained in closets and cabinets? Some of my clothes still fit fine, because sizes vary regardless of the number on the label, and different materials and styles are more or less forgiving. Plus, belts.

My hope with projects like this is to initiate a lasting change in habits. Last year's failed Ten of Tens was an effort to find some areas where I could move permanently in the direction of greater sustainability; if the 40-bag purge leaves me with an on-going aversion to shopping, so that I quit over-buying because stuff is on sale, that would be a great outcome.

Stay tuned.

Letter to the Editor at Consumer Reports

I was very pleased to see your very positive review of the new Tesla Model S in the July issue.  I note that you've commented occasionally on the effects of climate change, and that you include information about energy efficiency in your appliance reviews. 

I wish you would go a couple of steps further and investigate additional environmental and social impacts of the products you're reviewing.  In a review of flooring materials, for instance, you include "Ecotimber" (and you give it a positive rating).  I would find it very helpful to have additional information about the relative environmental impacts of the various surface materials.

I'm sure I'm not the only one who would like information on where the appliances you review are manufactured, and what kinds of safety records the various manufacturers have in their supply chains. 

Finally, I don't know how much gas mileage is weighted in your automobile reviews, but if you don't already boost cars with better mileage, perhaps that would be a valuable shift in your metric.

I realize that providing this kind of information has not historically been part of your mission, but as a well-respected organization with a wide reach, you have great potential to educate consumers and encourage social change.

Thank you for your time.

Update: I got a reply from CR -- a step or two up from boilerplate:

Dear Ms. Estes,

Thank you for taking the time to contact Consumer Reports®. I want to express how much we value your choice of our products and services to help you make informed purchasing decisions.

We appreciate your writing to us regarding the environmental and social impacts of the products we test. Please be assured that our readers' feedback plays a strong role in the work that we do. Because of this I have taken the liberty of sharing your feedback with the appropriate members of our staff for their review and future consideration.

Consumer Reports is committed to making your experience positive and informative.

Sincerely,

Patrick Burns
Representative
Customer Relations Department

Ten of Tens: Fail

The plan for the year was to try on a new ecologically sound habit during each of ten months, giving myself a pass for November and December because they're so dark and dismal and it's difficult to do anything new.  I'm almost halfway through the ten months and I can't say I'm impressed with myself.

In January, I tried to eat more local food.  That's not such a major challenge in the summer, when we participate in Community-Supported Agriculture (pay up front, get a share of whatever grows) and the farmers' markets are full of fresh produce, and biking to them is a nice outing.  In January, when biking requires ten minutes to put on outerwear and the markets' offerings are thin anyway, it's not so easy.  So maybe that wasn't the best challenge for the month.  Fail.

I did, however, cut way back on take-out, avoiding all the single-use packaging.  In February, I tried again to go more local, again with the most limited of results, but I kept away from take-out food.

I also started doing yoga for a few minutes every day.  That habit has stuck -- I've missed only a handful of days in the past very busy month, and have paid for every one of them.  It's not specifically ecological in nature, but who knows where it might lead me.

In March, I set the bar really, really low and tried to take shorter showers and use less water while washing dishes.  I managed.  I continue to do a little better in that area.  Like I said... low bar.

The plan for April was to get serious about reducing clutter, going through all the closets in the apartment, pruning excess, recycling and donating to thrift shops.  I made one trip to the textile recycling booth at Tompkins Square; I gathered up some toys that The Offspring is finished with, but didn't manage to get to the Salvation Army to drop them off.

May?  I didn't even set an intention.  And I backslid wildly on not eating take-out, stopping at least weekly for Chinese take-out before getting the train home and even ordering in from the office.

I did, though, have the wild idea of starting a Facebook group for medievalists interested in ecocriticism.  It wasn't on the original list, but that list was intended as a way to try out a few environmentally sound habits in the hopes that some of them would stick, rather than as a rigid road-map. 

Eating at home, or packing meals, has been the only one with any traction, and despite the recent fall off the wagon, I'm energized to plan better and recommit to that.

So... I'm officially giving up on May. And for June?  I'm having minor surgery on May 30 so I'll plan to spend the recovery time reading Ecological Economics to educate myself better on both economics and ecology.

Ten of Tens: Retrenching

This month, I'm going to try to take on reducing clutter.  It's part of the "reduce" leg of the green triad.  Usually I interpret "reduce" to mean reducing purchases, thus making it arguably more important than "reuse" or "recycle" because it hits consumption at the knees rather than addressing its effects.

But "reduce" also means getting rid of stuff that's lying around unused, so as to simplify life and limit the need for storage space.  I generally resist getting rid of stuff that's perfectly useful because I fear I might need it some time.  My mother is a war refugee, my father a depression baby -- hanging on to anything that might come in handy some day is deeply ingrained.

But recently I've been taking another look.  On sabbatical in Cambridge a few years back I was invited to a May Ball, for which I bought a gown at a thrift shop and (oh my) schlepped it back to New York.  Really, I'm never going to wear it again.  T-shirts and turtlenecks with holes in them, that I keep around for pajamas and weekend wear have to go.  Why do have a package of weatherstripping, anyway?  Do I really need all those old towels, baby blankets, kid toys, books I'll never read again? The goal: to take every single thing off shelves and out of drawers and boxes and crates and see how much I can send to thrift shops or recycle bins.

De-cluttering wasn't on my list back in January, when I hatched grand plans for adopting new habits that would lead to greater environmental awareness and sustainability in my personal life.  I vowed to take on a new habit, task, or challenge -- albeit a small one -- for each of the next ten months.  So far, I've done better at things that weren't on the list.

In January, I attempted, and failed, to eat more local food.  On the other hand, though it wasn't the plan, I did a lot better at packing my lunch, and avoiding the vast amounts of waste (and the not-so-healthy meals) that go with take-out.  In February, I tried, and failed, again with the local food, but also went off-piste by returning to yoga as a daily habit, and that one is sticking, though it's not really an environmental commitment. In March, I aimed low at reducing water waste, with reasonable success.

So April's task will be to try to get beyond the fear that I might want [item x] some day, and spend some time each weekend unpacking the cabinets and closets to make them more useful by virtue of being less overstuffed.  I'm starting with the pantry, trying to eat my way through the food already stored there before buying more.

Ten of Tens, March Update

Take-out happened this week -- twice -- but for the first time since the beginning of the year.  Virus also happened this week, and night-time asthma and vomiting, and an out-patient surgical procedure... so it was a more than usually stressful week.

I've been getting better about cooking on the weekends so as to have ample leftovers available for lunches, and for dinners on short notice, during the week.  And I'm ready to re-commit to avoiding take-out and all its trash.

This is all part of the ten of tens, in which I make the effort to change one thing each month that will make a positive environmental impact.  In January, I tried to eat more local food, but failed pretty thoroughly; I also stopped eating take-out, which wasn't the official plan for the month, but had been on my radar.

In February, I redoubled my efforts to eat more local food, but have largely failed again.  Recently, I recalled research on "food deserts," defined as urban areas more than one mile away from a supermarket.  In short, this research acknowledges that if food is more than a mile away in a place where people don't typically have cars, or more than ten miles in rural areas where it's assumed that they do, then it's difficult to deal with grocery shopping.

The nearest farmer's market, at Tompkins Square, is 1.3 miles away and operates only on Sunday; the bigger one at Union Square that's open four days a week is 2.3 miles.  On a warm spring or fall day, or even a steamy summer one, I'm quite happy to hop on my bike, load it up with produce, and ride back home.  But in the cold of winter ... particularly if there's precipitation ... the time required to put on all those layers and the energy required to face the temperatures has been defeating me.

However, I'll keep trying.  Aided by the fact that spring is on its way.  And for March, I'll work on limiting water use: shorter showers, less running water while washing dishes.  A nice easy goal, because I already know March is going to be a bear, with three of four weekends committed to travels of varying length.

Meanwhile, not eating takeout has become a good habit.  And with a few additions to freezer and pantry, it will be that much more solid.

Ten of Tens: Adjustments

My plan for this month was to try to eat more local food, and I've done a pretty lousy job. The only thing that saves me from having to admit complete failure is that The Mate managed to make one trip to the farmer's market, where he discovered that even in January, you can get a decent variety of vegetables.

On the other hand, even though it was on the list for some time later in the year, I've been making a consistent effort to pack my own lunch.  My days are long, and it's both psychologically and practically difficult to pack two full meals, so I've been getting home famished -- yet somehow, since the beginning of the year, I've completely avoided take-out food and all the styrofoam and plastic packaging that accompanies it. 

This morning, the lunch opportunities in the fridge were pretty slim.  No leftovers; half a loaf of bread. I made a sandwich, then ate it for breakfast instead of cooking hot cereal.  I cut up a bunch of carrots, but even in combination with some almonds in my desk, that wasn't going to make a meal.

And then I remembered the pea soup I stashed in the freezer a couple of weeks ago -- just for moments like this. I pulled out a mason jar and stuffed it in my lunch bag.  Saved. This weekend, I'm going to crazy on cooking up more soup.

For next month, I'll keep going on packing lunches and substantial snacks, and planning more carefully for what I need and when.  It's become more habitual, and in another few weeks it should be pretty solidly ingrained.  And I'm going to try again on the local food front.

Ten of Tens: Local Food

January was supposed to be the month of finding ways to eat more local food.

Everyone in the household has been afflicted with one bug or another at some point this month, so trying to change habits and get into a different rhythm has been... a challenge.

Still, The Mate managed to make it to the farmer's market last week -- the littleish one at Tompkins Square, not the bigger Union Square farmer's market -- and even there, came home with a decent haul: brussels sprouts, squashes, apples, potatoes.

Meanwhile, we've increased the size of our box from Urban Organic.  Great selection of vegetables and fruits, and they try to buy local, but there's always a lot of food in the box that's been shipped quite a distance.

Next part of the project is to try to find a local source of dry beans and legumes.  I'm also thinking about preserving some tomatoes, hot peppers, and herbs next summer.

Ten of Tens: Eating Local

The other day, I made a list of ten changes I want to make this year, a month at a time, to see where they take me.

The plan for January: Eat more local (when it's not so easy).

In the summer, it's pretty easy to get a lot of our food from local sources.  We get a share in Community Supported Agriculture, and every week we go to a drop-off location a few blocks away to pick up our weekly allotment.

(Want to join a CSA?  Now's the time to start looking -- at least in our area, they get fully subscribed pretty early in the year.  Here's a web site with more information.)

We supplement with trips to the farmer's market for the berries, plums, and apples we'll use for our year's supply of jam and apple sauce.

In the winter? Not so easy.  The CSA goes dormant, and the farmer's market is far smaller than it is in the summer.  Plus, it's not much fun to shop in the cold.  But I'm going to give it a try.  I don't even know what you can buy at the farmer's market this time of year, so it could be interesting.

If I can get the habit going now, when I'm not spending 15 hours a week commuting, maybe I can keep it up when that starts up again.  (Next week, it turns out.)

My Ten of Tens

Over the last several years, I've been trying to deepen my ecological commitments by making small changes that, over time, add up to fairly significant impact.

One success has been using public transit to get to work.  The Mate bought me a Brompton folding bike for Mother's Day (!) nearly five years ago, when we still lived in Washington Heights. 

Once every few weeks, I schlepped it onto the A Train and then New Jersey Transit, and rode it two miles to campus at the other end.

A year later, we moved back downtown, and I was close enough to bike to public transit at the New York end.  In the fall of 2010, I decided to try to take public transit to work once a week instead of driving.  It was a huge success, and I happily got through the whole semester.  There were hitches in the spring, as I started feeling the aftershocks of five hours a day in transit. But by that fall, I was taking the train and the bike to work almost all the time, instead of driving.

These days, I sometimes think about driving to work, but then I remember wasted time sitting behind the wheel and getting enraged by the antics of the other drivers, when I could be sitting on the train getting work done or even (gasp!) resting.  Or I remember the billboard at the entrance to the outbound tunnel that for a couple of months read, "People call commuting a nightmare.  Nightmares are shorter."

Commuting to work on public transit, and using my bike to get around town, has become my normal. When I started the experiment, I had no idea that was going to be the outcome.

Another experiment I'll call successful is this blog, whose fifth anniversary came and went unheralded last November.  I started it as a way to think through environmental issues in a way I couldn't do in my academic writing or in the classroom.  I diverged into writing about chronic illness when I came down with "the itis" a couple of years later. Since then, I've developed two classes on the environment and, to my on-going amazement, published an article that grew out of the blog.

So in the coming year, I want to pick ten new things to try to turn into habit, one for each of the next ten months.  (The light fades in November and December.  Just getting through is enough of a goal: it's too hard to do anything new.)  I'll see where these things take me -- if just one brings about a transformation comparable to the changes in my teaching and scholarship or my commute, it will be a big thing.

• Pack lunch to avoid the packaging that comes with take-out.  Bring a cloth napkin.
• Limit water use: three-minute showers; go to the car wash instead of washing my car with the hose; use a pan to rinse dishes instead of running the tap.
• Recommit to not shopping and/or buying used.
• Research the environmental impact of web storage.  Write some letters to push for change.
• Finish reading Ecological Economics and find the next thing to read.
• Create a change.org petition on an environmental issue.
• Research the water and energy costs of the foods I eat most.
• Research the environmental costs of medical care.
• Write a proposal for a humanities-based environmental studies minor at MU.
• Eat more local. (Out of season, when it's not so easy.)

My problem with ideas in general in my life is wanting to implement them all at once.  I'm always reading ten books at once, writing five articles, working on bunches of different things simultaneously.  I could probably get more done with better focus and less enthusiasm, but then I wouldn't be me.  So the first challenge will be to decide where to start.

If you want to try something like this, I posted some more ideas over the last couple of days.

Year of Tens: More Ideas

Yesterday, I posed a challenge: ten months, ten new ecologically sound habits.  Here are some more ideas for change:

Call ten companies that send you catalogues and get off the mailing lists.
Take three-minute showers.
Turn off the tap while you're brushing your teeth.
Take the money you saved from your month of no shopping and buy one really long-lasting item.
Or, take that money and make a donation to a good cause.
Get the various damaged and broken stuff lying around the house repaired instead of replacing.
Decluttter.  Get rid of the stuff you really don't use.  Donate or recycle as much as possible.
Use a sink or pan full of water to rinse dishes when handwashing instead of running the tap.
If it's brown, flush it down.  If it's yellow, let it mellow.  (To be honest, this one totally grosses me out.)
Recycle wrapping paper.
Switch to fair trade chocolate and flowers (I'm thinking Valentine's Day) and coffee.
Join Green America for more ideas.
Stop using plastic grocery bags.  Get one of those thin cloth bags and carry it everywhere.

I'm working up my own list of ten tens for the coming year.  I hope to post it tomorrow.

A Year of Tens

How about a challenge?  Pick ten small changes you can make in your life that will lighten your tread and lessen your impact on the planet.  Then, for each of the next ten months, pick ten days to make that change.  (November and December are stressful enough, what with the holidays and the light going away, to try anything out of the ordinary.)

Ten months, ten days, ten habits.  If a change feels right, maybe you'll stick with it for the long term.  If not, move on to the next thing on the list.

Here are some possibilities, in no particular order:

Use a re-usable mug for your take-out coffee.
Bring lunch to avoid all the trash from a take-out meal. (See: leftovers, below.)
Write ten letters (email messages count) encouraging businesses to adopt greener practices.
Write ten letters (email ditto) to elected officials, encouraging them to support green legislation.
Reorganize bins in your home (kitchen, bath, home office, laundry) to maximize recycling.
Go beyond the basics: recycle (or donate) electronics, clothes, eyeglasses, shoes, toys.
Compost.  (Not impossible, even in NYC.)
Cut back on food waste.  Plan shopping so you won't end up with food going bad; save leftovers.
Go on a shopping diet: buy household necessities, but nothing else.
Carry and refill your own water bottle.
Avoid buying anything made out of plastic (including packaging).
Take public transit to work or to a weekend activity, or if you live close enough, walk or bike.
Give up paper towels.
Think about library books as an alternative to buying paper copies -- or ebooks.
Make your pet greener.
Shop responsibly: before every purchase, educate yourself.
Cut back on meat.
Check the investment portfolio in your pension plan.  If you can, rebalance toward sustainability.
If you can't -- ten more letters.

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Changing our lives to lessen our environmental impacts is beyond quick fixes.  It's not realistic for any of us to ditch the car, the home, the electricity, the medical care.  We can't go back to the stone age.

But we do need to commit to continuous change, for the rest of our lives, to reduce our ecological impact.  And we need to educate the children in our lives to carry on that habit of constantly re-evaluating .

If you make a list, write it in pencil.  Make changes as you see what's possible for you.  But don't give up!  Keep working on making incremental changes.  At the end of six months, a year, five years, look back and see what you've accomplished.

And please -- make more suggestions to add to the list.