Sunday, February 17, 2008

I Need Eco-Therapy

I always ask for both paper and plastic when I check out at the supermarket. I use bags for my kitchen garbage. Sometimes, if my garbage is not too messy, I even reuse them. Now after reading this article in the NYTimes (Feb. 16, 2008)...

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/02/16/us/16ecomoms.html?em&ex=1203483600&en=f35a74fd3c3e7771&ei=5070

it's apparent that I need to find an ecotherapist.

It seems Tupperware parties have been replaced by Ecomom parties. I wonder if they have these events for grannies. The article reminded me of a vegan couple I met years ago. Everything they used had to be "natural" so their sorry little 5 year old used a straw backpack for school(I think they modified a fishing basket)...poor tyke.

I grew up removing the foil from stick gum wrappers, saving rubber bands and reusing everything. My parents remembered the depression and war year shortages, so I inherited that mentality. We never used paper towels (too wasteful), colored toilet paper (too extravagant). Our pillow cases were scratchy chicken feed bags that my great uncle, the chicken farmer, gave us. I vowed, that when I could afford it, I'd have matching bed linens, printed toilet paper and other extravagances. Now I guess I need shock therapy to get back to my old ways. Maybe Al Gore could find a new career as an Eco-shock therapist and I'd be his first patient (victim).

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Manicure in Tinsel Town

I'm having my nails done at my neighborhood place and in walks Mac Jones. He's about 6'10" (that's the truth) and black. He's a regular in the neighborhood. He sells knock off purses to the customers in the shops in the area for $100+ a pop. He's a real likable guy and hangs around for a bit when he's not making a sale.

Well, yesterday he walks in laughing, saying, "I dodged that bullet." Here's his story...

He had been married twice and never had children due to a low sperm count. His second wife wanted a divorce, sent him all the papers which he signed and (wrongly) assumed that he was legally divorced. He then hooked up with a Philippine woman in her mid 40s and they moved in together. I guess they didn't use birth control (remember low sperm count) and she became pregnant. They tried to get married, but he found out he was never divorced from his second wife. At 57 he was nervous about becoming a father, but was determined to do the right thing.

Back to yesterday...She had the baby, a boy, and he went to visit them in the hospital. He's hysterical laughing. It's not his baby. He points to my (Vietnamese) manicurist and says that the baby looks just like her. "The baby is Chinese" he says. My manicurist is pretending to be offended...she's not Chinese. And he continues that the baby has no black in him. This time he points to a customer saying that the baby is whiter than she is. By this time the whole shop is in hysterics. Besides, he says that the baby's "thing" (his word)”is that small”. He holds 2 fingers about 1/4 inch apart and reminds us how black men are hung.

Now, he's on a roll. He continues. Everyone in the shop has tears rolling down their faces. He's ecstatic....he's dodged the bullet.

I ask him for the baby's name. "Mac" he tells me. "What's his last name?" I ask. "Jones" he says. Sounds like that bullet boomeranged.

So all you writers who are sitting next door at Starbucks, close up your laptops and come get your nails done. Who could think this up?