180 Degrees

I should apologize to someone.  Most likely it should be directed to Sam, the previous mayor of our town.  Since he's no longer listening (actually never was listening), perhaps it could just be a public statement, witnessed by blog readers from around the world.  That should be good enough. (See post "And My Mayor Loves Me" 10/24/11.)

One handsome bucket.  

"I'm sorry I said all those nasty things about the compost bucket put on my curb nearly two years ago. I know that you meant well, and I used it for a purse only once.  I've never used it for its intended purpose:  putting kitchen scraps into the yard debris for pick up each week.  My kitchen scraps are way too precious to give to any mayor, even one that I liked and admired.  But as I was cleaning out the pantry in the middle of Things I get to do today, I came across that compost bucket.  My other one was a little small, and I had a purpose in mind for it, so I decided to try this one I pay extra for each month.  I am chagrinned to observe that I absolutely love it.  It's wonderful.  Let me tell you why:  it holds about a gallon; it has a lid that pretty much seals off the odors; it is already brown, so won't stain from decomposing vegetables; it has a handle that is sturdy; it is designed well for dumping with a little lip for ones fingers to grip when it is inverted.  In short, it's a "beauty" regardless of where it came from.

The bottom line is that I love the bucket.  But, Sam, don't even think about getting any of my kitchen scraps.

Best Answer I've Seen

Rotary cutter makes this quick work

Not a "keeper."  Don't save mementos.  Not a "collector" either.   But I have to say that throwing away fabric of any kind, as in into the garbage, is really hard for me.  So sorting through the linen cupboard and coming up with four old pillowcases that were no longer fit to lie ones head upon really put me into a conundrum.

An online search for ways to recycle pillowcases yielded nothing helpful.  You can, if you have one, put the pillowcases over the individual paddles of your ceiling fan to clean them.  We don't have one. Pillowcases make very poor rags for cleaning--too smooth, not absorbent.

Waxing (as a depilatory) grew its way into Things I get to do today, and the idea struck like lightning.  Cut the pillowcase into the little strips needed for pressing over the wax and jerking the hairs out.  Works like a charm.

These are 1 x 3" strips, perfect for brows and small areas

And free of charge here are two more ideas.  Use cut strips for rag curls.  If you sew, toss the pillowcases into your drawer of interfacing fabrics--just right for soft interfacing treatments.

Double Duty, Beauty Forever

Can't throw away a beautiful picture.  It seems a sacrilege somehow.  Once captured, a scene is forever.  But if these scenes are on a calendar that a few days ago became obsolete, then what?  What to do with the calendar?

Julie Furber Photography: recycled!

All these earth shaking questions baubled about in my head while I fingered the exquisite but useless 2012 calendar.  From a drawer of old stationery, I unearthed 20-year-old notecards designed for a previous business venture.  Things I get to do today with great enthusiasm are trim off the calendars and double-stick tape the photos to the top quality cards, covering the business logo.  

Two of the cards are already in the mail--on their way to starting their own "forever."

Born Again

"There's a hole in the bucket, dear Liza. . ."

Baptism by fire can be part of it.  But once that part's done, I'm left to come up with a use for the damaged object. When there's a hole in the water can, at the very bottom, it cannot  carry water again. Plastic could probably be "welded" and repaired in some way, but Things I get to do today yielded another idea.

Jigsaw modified for a new life

A past post applauded a mulch scoop made from a milk jug.  I called it the perfect scoop.  A more careful review would have noted that it was flimsy and collapsed with pressure. So another scoop was creating itself shortly after.

Born again to a new and useful purpose

Now in it's new form, the previously holey water can is a most sturdy sort of scoop for mulch and soil amendment distribution.  A new life, rising not from ashes but from melted plastic, is ready to be of service.

Verdigris Almost

Scaly and Mildewed

Start with a UV degraded plastic chair.  Best if it's green.  We stole this idea outright from Sand Creek Inn in Sandpoint, ID.  Their outdoor lounging area had old, green plastic Adirondack chairs that had been painted copper.  Over time the copper paint has worn and been scraped off a bit revealing the under green surface. The effect was perfect, a copper chair turning an antiqued copper/green.

This doesn't scrub off

Our six green plastic chairs were oxidized from the sun all summer long and mildewed from the rain all winter long.  The combination is fatal for sure. The mildew cannot be scrubbed off because it is embedded in the rough crust of the deteriorating plastic.  But wash these chairs up a bit to get off the big chunks, let them dry well and the copper paint adheres perfectly.

Freshly painted and a little too bright maybe

One year of use and weather with bits of green beginning
to show through for charm.

It's taken a long time to do all  six chairs, but I could feel it in the air that painting the last two was on for the Things I get to do today.   













Paint on the surface stops the UV damage. A little wear and tear lets the green shine through.  Verdigris in reverse.

Reminds Me of Something

I guess I could use duct tape to cover the label.  The salt people are not paying me anything.  They do not know I exist.  So this is not advertising for anything or anybody.  This is about the ordinariness of life.

Filling a salt shaker is not the highlight of the Things I get to do today.  But I was paying attention to the process. Shaker wasn't quite full, but the "bulk" bag of salt was empty.  I held it in my hand for a moment because it reminded me of something--but what? The picture was hazy.  So I fiddled with the bag and its cap for a bit longer.


That's when I made the connection: this salt bag looks very much like the water bottle pouches that fit in my husband's ski jacket.  It is nearly the same size and holds two and a half cups of liquid I found out.  Hot diggity! I'm not a total recycling maniac, but it is always deeply satisfying to reuse something that was meant to be thrown away.


My new water bottle for cross country skiing (or hiking for that matter), is a winner.  Next Handy Andy task:  develop some thing so the little tiny cap doesn't disappear in the snow if cold fingers fumble it.  Ideas?

Finally, It Fits

The lid rusted long ago.  I've been making my own yogurt for about three years.  The jar is a plump one that holds two quarts--just the right size.  All was perfect in yogurtville for about the first year. But then the acidic nature of the concoction took its toll on the lid, not having been designed to hold the likes of yogurt.

I thought of going back to the store to see if they would sell me a new lid, but in the mean time I set a plastic lid from a regular quart yogurt tub on the jar to keep good things in and bad things out.   I wasn't happy with it.  When our giant jar of mixed nuts was down the hatch, that lid was commandeered for the jar.  It was royal blue.  Certainly better than the flat lid just sitting, but the threads didn't quite match.  Not good enough, not yet.

Old jar.  New lid.  Perfect fit.

But then the peanut butter jar with its brittle bottom went empty, and before my hands and all the Things I get to do today could throw it out, my brain said "STOP.  Save the lid."  It fits perfectly.  It's green.

Christmas and Spring

In the arms of love

We had a magnificent Christmas tree this last winter.  When the official season was over, the tree was definitely not dead or ready to be disposed of--see: "In the Arms of Love" (1-3-12).  Subsequent holidays came and went, Valentine's, Presidents', St. Patrick's, and Easter.  I had thought if the tree can make it until Easter, oh my!

Still quite green for a May Christmas Tree

May 1, well past Easter, a terrific wind came through.  The Christmas tree leaned out from its arms of security and toppled to its side on the ground.  It was time.  Along with its departure came the awareness of its future use.

Steep bank and erosion

Bank secured with Christmas branches

The limbs were cut from the trunk and used to stabilize the steep bank of the ditch/creek next to our property where Dame Apple lives.  These branches will help hold the soil through the rains that we are sure to have.









And the trunk?  It will season over the summer.  Next Christmas we will burn those logs for our family gathering. When the house is again quiet, the ashes will be scooped and sprinkled into the garden where they will become part of new life.  Full cycle.  Sweet tradition.

It's a Slippery Slope

Once you get started, you're a goner.  This gardening/yarding thing has me outside so much I missed my Tai Chi class last Thursday--plum forgot all about it until 3:15 in the afternoon.  Today I remembered, but when I got back, I took all that focus and relaxation right out in the dirt as though I'd never been away for a minute.

Empty slope fit for only weeds.

Right out of my yard catalog of Things I get to do today is make a space to plant my Critter Mix.  I found Critter Mix in my seed catalog.  The folks at this company make available at a reasonable price a whole pound of greens seeds like collards and kale and lettuces that you can grow to feed your chickens.  That is so cool I can hardly see straight.  My problem would be, here in the city, limited lot size without the quarter acre needed to grow all these goodies for the girls. The garden beds are for growies for us people to eat not for the hens.

Old treated posts and 2x4's--a nuisance to store

So I started looking around in the yard for space of hen kale.  And there it was:  totally useless space in its current configuration, but totally perfect space if I were to gather together a pile of rotted off posts and 2x4's from an old berry trellis and a fistful of rusted rebar stakes.

The project got much worse before it got better--pretty typical of projects.
However, Handy Andy's know that and simply shift into compound low.
Slimy folded stuff is nasty, old landscape fabric found five inches down.

Armed with this equipment I spent the rest of the afternoon making terraced beds on a slope that has grown only weeds for the past 30 years.  Wow, does that feel good!  And better yet, it isn't slippery any more.

Ready to plant.  Oops! Better order the seeds, do ya' think?

Make My Day

I'm the opposite of a hoarder.  I love to make space, clear the deck, throw things away, clean up and clean out.  My idea of a holiday is Wednesday--Garbage Day.  Presidents' (Days) are seldom as beneficial to us individually as getting rid of our garbage.

Perhaps it all started when I was a little kid.  Out in the country nobody picked up your trash.  You burned it, buried it, or hauled it to the dump.  The most amazing feeling grew to a fervor as we drove to the county facility a couple times a year--clean, free, expansive, exhilarating, joyous.  The feelings are easily recalled and replayed as I make way for the fresh, the new, the clean, the rearranged.

Our town is going through major evolutionary shifts related to waste collection.  It is arguable for both sides whether we are progressing or regressing as a city or as a species on this topic.  Nevertheless, our household has garbage pickup just once a month.  If we miss that day, we are nested in our own trash for another four weeks.






I'm paying attention to the calendar: today is the day.  The exciting Things I get to do today are to hustle around the house emptying rubbish into the reused dry cleaner's bag, a prophylactic for the basket under the kitchen sink, put out all recyclables, and line up the yard debris can with the other two containers at the curb.  Can you top that?  Go ahead. Make my day.

Practical Pat Meets Handy Andy

I finally gave in.  Yup.  Planned to buy those little square boxes of tissues that cost twice as much and last half as long.  Why?  It looked nicer on the dining table.  And I have to have tissues at the table.

Just slide a knife in the side seam and it's open

There's some strange mechanism in my mouth/nose that right-as-rain orders up a runny nose while I'm eating. An ordinary flat box of tissues has been available always.  The more handsome square boxes had slipped their way into the house via the guest bedroom, and now one of them has crept onto the dining table.  It looked so good there that it became part of the decor and was allowed to stay. (My fault).




All good things come to an end.  The box was empty.  The next shopping trip I knuckled in and prepared to buy a pallet of them.  But the "pallet store" had changed their designs and their colors. The earthy tones are out, and their current fad colors will not come home with me, let alone sit as a guest at/on my table.

Done

Tissues inserted and ready to be closed up

Here's where Practical Pat and Handy Andy both strike at once.  Putting tissues in a box can't be that hard.  I popped open the empty square box.  Sure enough, not a tissue to be seen. Next I opened the end of a flat box of tissues,  slid them all out,  removed the top one inch of tissues, rounded them over gently, put them in the square box, pulled the next-up tissue through the hole, and closed the opened flaps.  A dab of adhesive (you pick your favorite), and it's done. Remember to put the flat box back together with its remaining tissues.  (This works only for top-tissue-out-pulls-the-next-tissue-up type.)

All Wrapped Up

I've often maintained that I might be slow, but I'm not dumb.  I say that when it's taken me awhile to catch on to something.  I know, however, that I simply have my own speed and that I'm also, under the right circumstances, very clever.

Let me illustrate my clever:  Recycling is a good thing.  I reflect on it at Christmas when I think of all that package wrapping:  first buying the paper; then wrapping the gifts, then they're unwrapped and there is a mountain of paper to deal with.  What is the best thing to do with that mountain?   In the old days all the paper went into the trash (worst case).  If Grandpa had a fireplace, we would burn the wrappings paper (not quite so bad--at least the room was warmed a bit).  Then the city offered recycling service for paper (all non-foil paper could go out with the newspapers--pretty good deal).  Or you could put the gift in a box that could be reused (we've been circulating some boxes until the corners as worn--a great idea).  But what if you wrapped the gift in some festive and practical (Practical Pat is my other self).

While at my favorite store a couple of weeks ago, the clever/practical part of me lept out and grabbed a good idea--a gift wrap that could be used in the kitchen everyday.  Now that's the best thing yet in my book.  The price was fine as well at 79 cents each.  Ten ended up in my basket as I headed to checkout.

The gifts I planned to wrap were aprons I was creating (another blog--watch for it).  The wrap and the gift were a perfect combination.  I'm pretty tickled with myself on this one and putting it all together is one of the Things I get to do today.  Here's how it worked.

Here's the gift wrapped in dishtowel with red yarn tie.

The wrapping is a creamy dishtowel with red strips on the edges.  I washed them first and then ironed them with a fabric finish to make them smooth and "crisp."  With just a little planning, you can maximize the presence of the red stripes on the front.

Making a bow that will not crush

On my recent "Knitting on the Road" adventure, I found in the making of pompoms that if I wrapped about ten times and tied it off, a rather lovely yarn bow was the result.  Some of you may remember that about fifty years ago there was a fad of fat yarn used for package ties.

Tying once, then twice.

Completed package

 Here's the finished bit of cleverness.  This gift will go into a box to be mailed and will find its way to another state, another city and under a distant tree.  The wrapping and the bow will be just fine.

And My Mayor Loves Me

This compost thing has me really smoking.  And if you knew what I think about smoking, you'd know this is not good.  But dwelling on the negative goes against nearly every grain of my fiber so I've found a way to turn this thing around.

You remember how excited I was at the 1st of October over the fact that my  mayor was going to give me my very own brand new compost bucket.  I thought that was sweet.  And generous.  We won't go into how much it cost the mayor (by that I mean every citizen in town) to provide me with a compost bucket.

Taupe and tan are this season's new fashion must-have.

Wednesday it was delivered.  I found it sitting there on the curb next to the empty yard debris bin.  I loved the color immediately, though the size had me worried.  My whole thing about a new bucket was having it sized so the liners could be recycled bags from the produce I buy, as in "reuse".  The pretty bucket looked too big.  Once in the house, a quick test confirmed it.  Too big to fit any of the bags that come home from shopping.  My heart sank.

But what is this inside the bucket?  A four-color, professionally designed brochure on how to put kitchen scraps into a bucket.  And FOUR coupons for PURCHASING biodegradable plastic or paper liners for the bucket. They want me to BUY liners? Whatever became of Reduce, Reuse, Recycle?  My temporary gallon can/compost bucket is now on permanent payroll.  Just goes to show you not to lose heart over your temp employment situation.  You never know when a sudden turn of events will put you on full time.

I'm going to rethink my neighbor's suggestion.  My new compost bucket is going with me grocery shopping--as a purse--it's on the list of Things I get to do today.  If you'd like to show your support of the mayor's program, I'll see you at the market with yours.

Life, Death and Beyond

Filled bucket and liner

Saturday was the beginning of the ban in our town.  Sounds like it could be serious.  For some it was.  Those who need to carry their goods in a plastic bag when they leave the big stores are out of luck.   On Saturday plastic was no longer an option.  Arguments for paper or plastic will go on for as long as the arguers have breath.  That discussion is not the point of my thoughts.  It was, however, the trigger for looking at what I do with the still-legal produce bags from my local market.

While making breakfast, first of the Things I get to do today, I reach for the compost bucket--the final resting place for the egg shells.  The liner for my current bucket is a plastic bag in its second life time.  It feels pretty good to repurpose in this way (see post:  Love My Mayor), but revealing the full life cycle of these bags seems appropriate based on the recent momentous events in city hall.

Filled liner ready for visit to the compost

Compost bucket is full.  Liner (plastic bag) and its contents (kitchen scraps ready for their own next incarnation) go into the hen pen to the compost bin.  The bin is one of those big black, plastic, lidded contraptions sold by Metro over the last dozen or so years.  It reminds me of a giant version of the shiny black head-gear worn by an ominous villain who made sucking, raspy sounds when he breathed so I call it the "Darth Vader."

After the bag has given up the contents of its belly to Darth Vader, it can no longer go back to the kitchen. It is rinsed out at the rain barrel, checked for major holes and tied onto the fence by the path.

Plastic bag on its way to heaven.

Dozens of dogs and their owners, dog sitters, dog walkers, runaway dogs and random people use this path every day.  At times some have been a bit careless about picking up after the four-legged critters.  I put up a little sign to remind them that the dog, no matter how devoted to them, cannot clean up after itself, and I provide these third-time-around plastic bags for the job in case they forgot their own.  For a final resting place and an afterlife, is that heaven or hell?

Purposing

That must be a word.  I looked it up.  "Purpose" means the reason something is done.  Repurposing is an upscale word for recycling.  When I'm "purposing," I find myself wandering around the house asking out loud to no one in particular, "I bought this thing in my hand.  How it is to be used?"

A good example:  A couple of years ago on one of my first trips to my favorite store I picked up a small piece of shaped wood.

99 cents.  Has to be good for something.

I bought it because deep inside I knew it had a purpose and in the right setting it could tell me what it was.  And I bought it because it cost only 99 cents.  And now these several years later, I did some purposing with it.  When I arrived at the paper towel holder in the pantry, the little shaped wood strip hollered out, "I'm home!" So was born "The Other Paper Towels."

At home next to the paper towels

One reason people grab the paper towels for a messy clean up is they
are so handy.  Now very tired old rags that can be thrown away or
washed are equally accessible,  Always good to have choices.

Some of my ideas really get me going.  You may have sensed that in the root cellar write up.   In all that "going" excitement, I can be a bit careless about measurements (it's happened at least twice in the recent past).  When the root cellar was finished, there was a bin/drawer to spare.

With this bin another episode of purposing began.  Starting in the garage which is neat and tidy by general garage standards but could use improvement by mine,  I held up the bin and asked how it was to be used. The workbench cupboard said "home" to three bin/drawers.  Here would be enough storage for a multitude of items on the bench that had been homeless statistics all their "lives." There would even be space left over for the little miscellaneous piles in the cupboard itself.  It should be noted here in all fairness that the orderliness of the workbench was never much of a concern to me until I needed the area for woodworking.

Next the purposing moved to the pantry.  I love to organize and reorganize--my spaces are always clean and neat long before they are thought about artistically (if ever).  Already I'm planning my next trip to my favorite store to buy the five similar-but-smaller bin/drawers that will fit in the pantry.

Am I off balance or just a little crazy?  Finding a purpose for something gives me thrills and chills and keeps my list of Things I get to do today long and luscious.  "Install bin/drawers" will be at the top soon.

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Zippers and Studs

When I incorporated the "growing up" ideas from Derek Fell's new book Vertical Gardening (Rodale Press) into my very own planting space, I thought I had reached the pinnacle of efficiency for my garden.  Gardeners are also dreamers, however, and it should be noted there is always something beyond: nearly every gardener has buried in the soil of her heart, maybe not very deeply, a yearning for a greenhouse.

The most basic elements for a greenhouse from my limited experience are the covering and the structure to hold the covering.  Some plants can tolerate having a blanket right on top of them to keep in the warmth--it extends the growing season and could be called a greenhouse of sorts.  If seed starting is in the plans, one needs also shelves, space and good full-spectrum light.  The reason all of us longing for a greenhouse don't have one is: it's pretty challenging to put all these together without a major expense.  You've seen the full-color pictures in the garden catalogs, and you've seen the price tags.

Not long ago I was visiting my friend Liza and her garden.  Lady Luck was shining warmly on me that day.  Have you noticed when you're around very bright people your own imaginations gets stirred?  Well, that's what happened that day.  We were talking about her tomato support structure and greenhouses and growing good food and eating it when suddenly I saw it.

My vertical garden could be fall-fitted with shelves between the upright 4 x 4's.  I love 1/4" graph paper, and soon ideas took shape.  I calculated the sun's angle up through the spring equinox to determine the spacing of the shelves.  They were sized to hold old plant trays I had collected plus large rectangle plastic boxes saved from buying lettuces last winter.  Perfect.  And for materials, it turns out I had plenty of good-but-not-so-pretty 2 x 2's that wouldn't mind the muddy overflow from watering seedlings.

About six weeks ago my excitement around this creative "get to" pulled the project onto the Things I get to do today and the structure was built.  Winter was not even close so there was no need for the covering. But the very next day, I pulled up my bean vines to let the ripe seed pods dry.  As I stood up,  there before me was a shelf in the hot sun.  Immediate gratification!

Fall-fitted and ready for a cover

Top shelf detail:  2x2's on 2x4's (studs).

Very soon the covering will be sewn from a woven, light-allowing, tarp-like fabric designed for this purpose.  I'm fortunate to have a 12' x 50' roll in my garage that I begged off my sister awhile back.  The perpendicular "tent" design has zippers and vents and grommets and doodads and whohaws to please the fussiest of plants and gardeners.  The only cost to me is for some studs and a couple of zippers.  Between now and the future blog on this subject, you can figure out how those items work together.

Love My Mayor

Right up on top of the list of Things I Get To Do Today is get a new compost bucket.  Compost buckets don’t wear out.  So here’s the scoop.

Bought a “Buddy” bucket 25 years ago (its name was on the label).  It’s still in excellent condition.  Stopped using it awhile back since the plastic bags from the grocery produce department that I wanted to recycle as liners didn’t fit.  Just thought the liners were a good idea.  Got chickens.  Ended up using the better fitting bucket for jobs at the hen house.  Found the old bucket and said to myself that liners were wasteful; it could be rinsed out after emptying each time.  No need to be lazy here. 

All is well.  Used the buddy bucket and rinsed it, etc. for several months.  Prepared to fix dinner one night and hauled the bucket from its place under the sink onto the counter where the vegetable trimmings could drop in easily and efficiently.  FLASH THOUGHT!  Did I set this bucket down in the hen pen when I was emptying it into the compost bin last time?  Little pictures in my mind: bottom of the bucket on ground in hen pen—bottom of the bucket on my kitchen counter.  Big OOPS! 

The important function of the bucket liner became clear.  Liner goes to the hen pen and into the recycling.  Bucket stays in the kitchen.

Yesterday’s mail brought us “The Curbsider—Special Edition” with info about our city’s new plan to compost food scraps with our yard debris.  Going to let us give them up for collection every week now, they are!  Let it be hereby known I jealously guard my food scraps.  They go back into the ground and get to try again as new vegetables.  Not giving one onion skin or apple peel to my city, the mayor, the Bureau of Planning and Sustainability or the director of that bureau!

But when I open the flyer, I see illustrated the handsome tan and brown compost bucket that will be mine October 31, gift of the mayor, the director, the Bureau of Planning and Sustainability and my fair city.  How did they know? How much did they have to pay to arrange a new compost bucket for just me?  Thank you, thank you, thank you!