Green, American Style

In college, I took an amazing class titled Feminisms and the Environment. My professor was a vegan lesbian who was in a wheel chair because she lost both her legs (and most of her hands) in an arson fire. I enrolled in the class because I needed to satisfy a liberal arts requirement. Part of the beauty of attending a liberal arts college. (I'll do a post on the benefits of a lib arts education in another post, swears.)

The most awesome thing about this gal wasn't that she kept an amazing pace despite her limitations. She and her partner, another faculty member, worked on an organic co-op in their spare time. She hiked regularly. Drove herself to and from class. She distributed hand-outs herself instead of enrolling a student to do it for her. But she valued my opinions as much as my more radical fellow students. And at the end of the semester, she told me how much she enjoyed having me in her class. Me. A straight, white, moderate girl of middle-class upbringing who wore heels to class instead of Birkenstocks and ratty t-shirts with "Blessed Anarchy" hand-painted on. (True story, folks.) And yet, I cannot remember her name. Sad, I know.

This class literally changed who I am because it's where I had my first "aha" moments, if you will, about how inextricably linked we are with our environment. I won't get on my soap box, but even now, I'm always trying to make the most environmentally responsible choice possible and living in California, it's only gotten worse. And where I come from, the Texas Gulf Coast, recycling is reason enough to be labeled a "liberal." In the age of Obama, that's a dirty word in those parts.

That's why I was so excited to read about this new book by Anna Clark, Green, American Style. In the book, Anna makes the case that environmentalism is inherently American and it doesn't have to be a political position. Rather, it should be viewed as a human decision.

I'm reading this book asap and hopefully, I have more wisdom on my side next time I get into a debate with my family, who throws away plastic bottles even though a truck picks them up with the trash. Thanks, Anna, for blurring those party lines for us! It's not either/or. It's both/and.

Green, American Style was released on April 1st, 2010 and it's available on Kindle! Anna Clark owns and runs and sustainable consulting firm and you can learn more about Anna and her work here.

Justified: A Post Dedicated to my One True Love

For today's post, we will deviate from our regularly scheduled programming to pay homage to the Blue Grass State, also the home turf of my One and Only, appropriately named "The Kentuckian."

In about forty minutes, FX premiers a new series, a new series I will be sampling for a few reasons:

--It's about Kentucky.

--My husband's from Kentucky.

--It's based on a short story by Elmore Leonard. (Fess up, you LIKED Out of Sight. Even J-Lo couldn't ruin that one.)

--The main character looks darn good in a Stetson and boots (Timothy Olyphant. See above.)

Justified is a new series on FX (10 pm Pacific, Tuesdays) about a Deputy U.S. Marshal in eastern Kentucky upholding the law and confronting his past (a past primarily composed of criminal relatives and gorgeous women (which the Kentuckian will enjoy)). I'm looking forward to the snappy dialogue Leonard does so well, some raw sexual tension, and maybe a few toothless hillbillies. (The Kentuckian has beautiful teeth, by the way.)

Will tune in for a post-premier review tomorrow!

(Photo shamelessly lifted from www.fxnetworks.com)

Grown-Up Christmas List

So, Christmas is in eight days. It snuck up on me once again. I'm not sure if it's supposed to be sneeked or snuck or snucked, but we'll go with snuck for now. I am headed to Texas after all.

Christmas is in eight days and happily, I'm sitting in the Oakland airport awaiting my cushy Southwest flight to Houston. (Note: Oakland Int'l Airport has free Wifi y'all. Other airports of the world, watch and learn.) This Christmas is going to be a wee bit different from the others cause the in-laws from Kentucky are also joining us. It's going to be a full house and it's going to be awesome.

Isn't it so funny how Christmas changes as you grow up? I used to get sooo excited about Christmas morning that I literally could not sleep. Or, worse yet, I'd go to bed at like 6 pm and wake my parents at 5 am to open presents. Maybe if they hadn't spoiled me so much, Christmas morning wouldn't have the same thrill factor. Literally, one year--I think I was three--they got me so many presents that I got tired of opening them and refused to open any more. I'm not exactly saying that with pride, folks.

Nevertheless, this year I still made a mental Christmas list. It's changed a bit from Barbie Dream Houses and cell phones and purses. This year, it looked more like food processors, pot holders, cook books, digital cameras, and gift certificates to Lowe's. I am officially old. My Christmas list is more grown-up than ever. But I guess it's all relative.

Here in the airport, they're playing one of my favorite Christmas songs. Not 'Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer'. Not 'Feliz Navidad'. No, not even 'I'll Be Home For Christmas', although it's a good one.

'Grown-Up Christmas List' has always made me get a little choked up. You probably know what I mean, cause the chorus goes a little like this:

No more lives torn apart,
That wars would never start,
And time would heal all hearts.

That everyone would have a friend,
That right would always win,
And love would never end.
This is my Grown Up Christmas List.

Kinda breaks your heart, doesn't it? Mostly because we all know that such wishes are likely to go unanswered. But wishing, hoping, and trying can always help. I think we all wish for such things. But in the meantime, there's nothing wrong with hoping you'll get an iPhone, or a new pair of boots, or a leather-bound copy of your favorite Austen novel also.

What's on your Christmas lists? Tangible and intangible items alike?

Farewell, My Love

Something is horribly and scarily wrong with me. My husband thinks so too. I don't know what brought it on, but you ever have those moments of frightening clarity after which you slap your forehead and say, "That's IT! I'm done!"

I had one of those. Except it was about a dear, dear old friend. In fact, I'm getting a little teary right now while I'm writing this.

After many, many, many years of waking up to a fresh cup of hot coffee, and then maybe another or five, I've decided to give it up.

I know. Shocking.

Here's what happened: I got started thinking about all the ways my coffee drinking affects my life. No, not the copious amounts of cream and sugar, or the probably life threatening effects of caffeine. I'm talking about the logistical stuff.

Literally, I can't do ANYTHING until coffee has met my lips. Nothing. Nada. Which sort of prevents the whole go-to-the-gym-first-thing-in-the-morning fantasy that I've had going for a couple of years now.

No kidding, a few months ago, we went camping in Yosemite National Park with some friends of ours. Amazing. Gorgeous. But you know what entered my mind almost the moment after I agreed to the trip? "What am I going to do about COFFEE???"

It's pathetic. Not to mention, I have an $80 Dr. Schultz liver cleanse that I have not been able to bring myself to do because it means giving up coffee--and food really--for a good five days. Which translates to a slow and painful death. Why would anyone want to do a liver cleanse with or without coffee you might ask? Eh, general health and longevity, that kind of stuff... (Dr. Schultz has all kinds of healthy goodies, check it out.)

Now, I've talked before about how coffee is so much more than a beverage. I know there will be days when I'll miss my mommy and the only thing that will make it better is a cup of Joe. This is precisely the reason why I'm not giving up coffee forever. In fact, I'm sure I'll drink plenty over Christmas vacation. That and whisky-spiked eggnog--with my mother.

But from now on, coffee is going to be the exception, rather than the rule. Can I get an Amen on that one?

Will let you know how it goes. Number of days without coffee? Two.

(Photo courtesy of Tosti Studios, a cup of the legendary Monument Cafe coffee.)

LIKE the SAT, but 'funner'

I gotta tell ya: trying to juggle work responsibilities while traveling/on the road/playing is a little tricky. Needless to say, I'm doing very well at it this week while I'm visiting the fam in Texas. However, if I had real J-O-B, I wouldn't be here at all so...I'm gonna take what I can get.

In other news, I cannot stop thinking about/playing with FreeRice.com! OMG, it's amazing. Brush up on your art history, vocabulary, mathematical skills, etc. through never ending quizzes on FreeRice.com and for every question you get right, they donate 10 grains of rice for starving people around the world!

My thoughts exactly. Ten grains, what a joke. That's not even a full bite. But last night alone, I racked up over 6000 grains of rice. And it was a hella fun.

Check it out!

Panic Attacks and Media Shenanigans

So far, I've done alright in the grown-up department. I've done the job thing, the married thing, the mortgage thing. But I tell you what, I hate paying bills. Hate. I hate it so much that I've been known to, well, not do it, Office Space style. I just 'forget'. Luckily, the hubster is more grown-up than myself and picks up the slack. It's a trade off: he hates doing dishes so guess what that means...

It's a little strange that I have such an aversion--both mental and intellectual aversions--to all things financial. I'm not kidding: finance related data approaches the folds of my brain and quickly flees. Yes, scientific information apparently does the same. Somewhere, I am missing a chromosome because both--count them, BOTH--of my parents are in finance! Mom--accountant. Dad--Financial Planner. How they stay sane I do not know.

So growing up with a stock broker/CFP father renders a young lady a little immune to the shrieks of the media every time the market takes a little dip. But I have to admit, when I learned that Merrill Lynch, the very firm with which my father is employed, was to be sold, and that banks and firms were literally dropping like flies, I grew a little concerned. And then when MSN.com and Wall Street Journal started using words like 'crisis' and 'depression' and 'meltdown', it was clearly time to put a phone call in to Dad.

As is to be expected, dear old Dad was relatively unconcerned. No Kate, people aren't going to be wheeling their cash around in shopping carts. No, I'm not going to lose my job. Mostly, he reminded me, yet again, that it's less about how many points are lost and more about a percentage loss. "Five hundred points in a day means nothing. Twenty five percent in a day, that's something," says Dad, financier extraordinaire.

It was a little Twilight Zone-ish because he said that the market's probably declining because everyone wants to sell just in case Obama gets elected and doubles the capital gains tax, as he's promised. (Dad is still without power/TV/internet courtesy of Hurricane Ike). I turn on 'Mad Money' or some other bogus show and BAM! That's exactly what they said. Voodoo Dad.

Of course he gave me all the other hem-haw about having a 'diversified portfolio,' whatever that means... But he also said that Merrill Lynch's merge with B of A is actually a good thing? Wha? It's highly possible that he's taken the whole 'bull' market Merrill theme a little too far.

Long story short, I'm pretty much done with the media's toying with our emotions. It just makes people act crazy--like tell all their friends to sell all their stocks and then say, "See! I KNEW it was going down!" The drama, really. No wonder this country has high blood pressure.

Is anyone else done with this media foofaraw? Ugh, this is a 'Just Say "NO!" to Media' situation. (Graph courtesy of http://www.wsj.com/).

Ike Attacks and Target Treasures

Texas is in a post-Ike world, today. And, it would seem, that while Ike is certainly the most devastating storm to berate the Texas Gulf Coast in a while, it definitely could have been worse. The fam is yet to 'Rambo' their way through the mess and assess the damage at the home front. The word is that my home town drew the ace...again.

My mom, she's so cute. She says to me, "See, sweetie? It wasn't that bad? What were you so worried about?" That's cause she doesn't have power back yet, which means she doesn't have air conditioning or TV, which means she hasn't the barren wasteland that is Galveston--yet.

Hurricane season keeps getting worse. In fact, some insurance carriers won't even initiate new home insurance policies on the Gulf Coast. Yeah, for real. It's 'too risky.' That nasty global warming keeps those babies a 'brewin'.

Which is why I am totally psyched up to read Thomas Friedman's newest: Hot, Flat, and Crowded: Why We Need a Green Revolution--And How It Can Renew America. Sounds heavy, doesn't it? It probably is, which is why it'll probably take me about a month to read it. John and I were in Target at about 30 seconds to closing when I spotted it and almost hit the ceiling. Mostly because a hot, flat, and crowded scenario sounds like my idea of hell.

Historically, I've avoided his books like the plague. They're easy ones like From Beirut to Jerusalem, The Lexus and the Olive Tree. Instead I bought them for my dad for Christmas. He did all the hard work and then just told me about them. But I'm going all in on this one.

What are you guys reading these days??

That Time of Year Again: Hurricane Season

Yes, two posts in one day, but I'd say Ike is worthy of it. Fervent prayers for all on the Texas Gulf Coast (my family, everyone I know, pretty much). Get the hell outta Dodge, y'all. Here's to Ike disappearing into thin air?

Taking the first step

I want to preface this 'spiel' by clarifying that I am not--repeat--NOT an addict. I don't' have a problem. I can quit when I want to. I do it because I enjoy it and for no other reason.

It's just the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning. And I have to have it to feel normal both physically and emotionally. The smell, taste, and sheer possibility of it fill me with complete and utter contentment.

I'm talking about my first love in life, a hot little cup of bliss known as coffee. C-O-F-F-E-E. I know that I'm not the only one that feels this way. How do I know this? Oh, it might just be the adjacent Starbucks coffee houses that have infested every city in America. Nothing against Starbucks. I've been spotted there. And even though it's a little excessive, any coffee lover can appreciate two distinct Starbucks establishments in your immediate field of vision. Yes, without having to turn your head. If nothing else, it's a testiment to the true greatness of the drink. But even so, I know I'd be willing to cross a busy street for a cup of good coffee. Hell, I could make a shorter list of things that I wouldn't do for a cup of coffee.

Where does the fixation come from, you might ask? Well, coffee is a cultural phenomemon in the American South. Coffee is to Texas as tea is to China, whiskey is to Ireland. Texans bring a new meaning to the concept of 'drinking socially'.

Some of my favorite memories include sitting around my mom's kitchen table, everyone with a fresh, hot cup of coffee in hand, gabbing away about nonsense. Good times. True familial bonding. And all because of a relatively simple, inexpensive, hot beverage.

It's a morning, midmorning, afternoon and evening ritual.

Now that I live about 2500 miles away from my best pals--the fam--coffee has served as my very own security blanket. It's pretty pathetic actually. But a hot cup of coffee fresh out of the pot almost makes me feel like I'm home again. Except not. Only getting a caffeine fix. But soothing the separation anxiety nonetheless.

Yes, I know that coffee is innately toxic. That it takes your liver like a week to process one cup of coffee. That caffeine is more addictive than heroine. But it's not illegal so it must be okay, right? Hmm... Sometimes I have fits of moral dilemma as I ponder the possibility that coffee could one day be the demise of the American public. But it quickly passes. Probably because I drown it with another cup of...you guess it.