Carmel-by-the-Sea, California
I nabbed a crew member at Monterey Trader Joe's recently to ask if they had any of those tortilla chips that you can heat up by throwing the bag in the microwave. The crew member checked it out and reported that their store wasn't moving them fast enough to keep up with the expiration dates, so they were no longer carrying them. Did I want her to order them for me? I told her that I was only going to be in the area for a short period of time, so no thank you. She asked where I was from, then volunteered to recommend some local restaurants. Very local. Like, walking distance from Trader Joe's. In the brief conversation that followed she told me that she doesn't have a car, so she lives close to work and walks everywhere. Then went on to say that she doesn't believe people should have cars that they are harmful to the environment in a variety of different ways, and people should stop driving them. Hmmm. Ok, she was young, idealistic, and had latched onto a worthy cause. Except. Except she got this glowing fervor in her voice and eyes as she reported this. And it reminded me of people I had known from high school who had taken a lot of drugs, and then gave up the drugs and became evangelical Christians. It's the fervor thing.
But it's also the extremist nature that some people bring to joining this conservationist cause. Remember the young guy with aspergers who set fire to a gaggle of SUVs for a similar reason? Not that I don't get the importance of ecology and the delicate balance in which we now live with regard to resources. That's why we recycle. Our limited resources should be used with discretion (here in Carmel where water is precious, they've got the low-flow toilets practically down to no-flow, and you have to run around in the shower to get wet). We already know about conservation, and you don't have to hear it again from me. But I get bothered by the posturing about environmental issues. We were recently invited to a wedding where the gift listing site stated that the wedding had been designated by the bride and groom as a green wedding so no gifts would be wrapped in paper. But it was a destination wedding two hundred miles away from where the bride and groom and their families and most of their friends live. How green is it to require that gifts not be wrapped, yet attendees must drive or fly that distance? Kinda contradictory, I thought (not that we didn't enjoy ourselves - invite us to a wedding out of town and we will be there, fossil fuel be damned).
I probably have no business tying this ecological fervor to population control, but how many of these environmental zealots are willing to not add more people to the planet in order to conserve resources? When I was trying to talk Billy into getting a Prius, he mentioned this to our dentist, Lynnette. She told him that if I wanted to reduce my carbon footprint I should get the Prius (like I'm going to give up German engineering), and he should be able to get the car that he wants. The next time I saw her, I mentioned that, just when I thought I had him convinced on the Prius, Billy had gone off the idea. The carbon footprint thing came up again. And that was when she reminded me that our personal use of resources is already way ahead of the game because, not having had children, we never used diapers, never drove carpool to school and soccer games, never had little people in our homes tearing through reams and reams of paper, gizallons of water, food, etc. I had never thought of this. I always thought I was a moderate user of resources, but she was right. By not having children both of us had way slowed our footprints on the carbon trail. It makes you think.
But, here is the more important, existential question of the day, one which I will ponder for a great many days to come: Why don't people in the Monterey area consume more tortilla chips? I just don't get it. It's nearing Superbowl Sunday, and there are 49er fans living here. What is the deal with the tortilla chips? These Trader Joe's chips were really good, restaurant-quality which you could heat in the bag so they were hot AND crispy. Ahhh, wait a minute. Do you think it was the bag? Or, the microwave? Should I suspect there's some non-driving, non-microwaving cult in this area who try to live without using any elective resources? Kinda crazy. I mean, I believe in moderation in all things including moderation. Except where tortilla chips are concerned. And of course, french fries. And onion rings. And salt & vinegar-flavored potato chips. Hold the presses: popcorn! And...Oh, I don't care how green you are, I thank you for reading my blog.
Showing posts with label Ecological Anorexia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ecological Anorexia. Show all posts
January 26, 2013
January 23, 2013
Very Nearly Four Thousand Hits
Carmel-by-the-Sea, California
As of this writing, I am just under four thousand hits on my blog. Again (because I like to recap and recap and recap), I started my blog here in Carmel, in January of 2010, in the kitchen of the cottage called Tucked In, which we used to rent for the month of January. Two years ago, we found this house. This year, I've been here since just before Christmas, and our stay is fast coming to a close.
After a brutal cold spell, the weather has turned warm, and the beach is even more stunningly beautiful. We took a long walk yesterday past River Beach and all the way up to Carmel Beach. It was Martin Luther King Day, and the beach was filled with people and dogs. The waves were high and there were surfers way far out, riding and wiping out -- the essence of surfing which is why I quickly gave up on it as a teenager. Water=cold.
Later, we went to Mission Ranch for cocktails. It was packed. We had wrongly figured that it wouldn't be crowded because the weekenders would have left town. But, at this time of year, Carmel's population is greatly comprised of snowbirds and other retirees. And they all came out to drink last night at Clint's place. I brought an extra sweater, and a coat which I left in the car. I immediately peeled off the top sweater and was warm in the turtleneck I was wearing below. Cold snap so over.
There was a splendid sunset, then it did begin to turn cool so we left for home where we prepared dinner, and watched some of the inaugural festivities (though it's hard to actually watch these things anymore, since programs seem to be made up of people telling you about what you would really like to be watching without commentary. But that's just me...).
So (she rambles on), about those four thousand hits...It took me fifteen months from my first post in early January 2010 to get to one thousand hits. Nine months later I celebrated two thousand hits. It was another eight months before I hit three thousand, this occurring last September when we were here at this house. And now, a mere four and one-half months later I am quickly approaching the four thousand mark. Pretty cool I think, though I hear of blogs which receive as many post per day and even per hour! No delusions of grandeur here. Truth is, I would be writing even if no one was reading (besides Billy...and Lydia...and Max...my small and deeply demented following). After all, no one reads my journal (shivers and shudders), and I write a lot more there. So there you have it.
For the last year or two, I have been working on the outline of a novel about a woman who committed suicide after entering into a loveless, eleventh-hour ticking-biological-clock marriage, then failing to accomplish her dream of having children, and subsequently embarking on a failed romance with a Peruvian salsa dancer. Seriously. It's actually humorous in spite of the topic, but these days I have a hard time working on it. And (as my friend Lydia says, and I now also like to say a lot) that's ok. I've never really had dreams about being a famous writer nor a famous anything. I just like the process of writing. I like the blank page. I like to see my thoughts thrown up there for better or, more usually, for worse. It feels good. And that's ok.
So, here is the part where I thank all two or two hundred, or maybe even more, of you for however many times you have visited my blog and read my posts. I don't get a lot of comments (you know who you are), but I fervently hope that at least some of you are finding at least some of the posts entertaining. Fervently. Hope. It has truly been a labor of love for me, in spite of the occasional stumbles and that collection of whining and complaining posts (wait until you read one of those in the pipe, entitled: Ecological Anorexia. It's coming soon, right here to this blog, and I, for one, can hardly wait!). What began as a loosely-organized, mediocre-in-design blog written by a resistant-to-the-medium blogger, about cooking, dancing, and life as I know it, has taken off and traveled a path of its own. I am gratified to the max (Hi Max!) that I've been accompanied on this meandering journey. So, as always, to those of you who have been on the entire trip, and those of you who have just dropped in for a leg or two, I thank you for reading my blog.
As of this writing, I am just under four thousand hits on my blog. Again (because I like to recap and recap and recap), I started my blog here in Carmel, in January of 2010, in the kitchen of the cottage called Tucked In, which we used to rent for the month of January. Two years ago, we found this house. This year, I've been here since just before Christmas, and our stay is fast coming to a close.
After a brutal cold spell, the weather has turned warm, and the beach is even more stunningly beautiful. We took a long walk yesterday past River Beach and all the way up to Carmel Beach. It was Martin Luther King Day, and the beach was filled with people and dogs. The waves were high and there were surfers way far out, riding and wiping out -- the essence of surfing which is why I quickly gave up on it as a teenager. Water=cold.
Later, we went to Mission Ranch for cocktails. It was packed. We had wrongly figured that it wouldn't be crowded because the weekenders would have left town. But, at this time of year, Carmel's population is greatly comprised of snowbirds and other retirees. And they all came out to drink last night at Clint's place. I brought an extra sweater, and a coat which I left in the car. I immediately peeled off the top sweater and was warm in the turtleneck I was wearing below. Cold snap so over.
There was a splendid sunset, then it did begin to turn cool so we left for home where we prepared dinner, and watched some of the inaugural festivities (though it's hard to actually watch these things anymore, since programs seem to be made up of people telling you about what you would really like to be watching without commentary. But that's just me...).
So (she rambles on), about those four thousand hits...It took me fifteen months from my first post in early January 2010 to get to one thousand hits. Nine months later I celebrated two thousand hits. It was another eight months before I hit three thousand, this occurring last September when we were here at this house. And now, a mere four and one-half months later I am quickly approaching the four thousand mark. Pretty cool I think, though I hear of blogs which receive as many post per day and even per hour! No delusions of grandeur here. Truth is, I would be writing even if no one was reading (besides Billy...and Lydia...and Max...my small and deeply demented following). After all, no one reads my journal (shivers and shudders), and I write a lot more there. So there you have it.
For the last year or two, I have been working on the outline of a novel about a woman who committed suicide after entering into a loveless, eleventh-hour ticking-biological-clock marriage, then failing to accomplish her dream of having children, and subsequently embarking on a failed romance with a Peruvian salsa dancer. Seriously. It's actually humorous in spite of the topic, but these days I have a hard time working on it. And (as my friend Lydia says, and I now also like to say a lot) that's ok. I've never really had dreams about being a famous writer nor a famous anything. I just like the process of writing. I like the blank page. I like to see my thoughts thrown up there for better or, more usually, for worse. It feels good. And that's ok.
So, here is the part where I thank all two or two hundred, or maybe even more, of you for however many times you have visited my blog and read my posts. I don't get a lot of comments (you know who you are), but I fervently hope that at least some of you are finding at least some of the posts entertaining. Fervently. Hope. It has truly been a labor of love for me, in spite of the occasional stumbles and that collection of whining and complaining posts (wait until you read one of those in the pipe, entitled: Ecological Anorexia. It's coming soon, right here to this blog, and I, for one, can hardly wait!). What began as a loosely-organized, mediocre-in-design blog written by a resistant-to-the-medium blogger, about cooking, dancing, and life as I know it, has taken off and traveled a path of its own. I am gratified to the max (Hi Max!) that I've been accompanied on this meandering journey. So, as always, to those of you who have been on the entire trip, and those of you who have just dropped in for a leg or two, I thank you for reading my blog.
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About Me
- Bronte Healy
- California, United States
- Once, I came up with this brilliant idea (well, I thought so, anyway) that the key to happiness was to concentrate on three things -- to choose three interests, then focus and funnel your energy into that trio. I was an English major in college and have always written in some shape or form. So, my first choice was writing. I've always kept journals, and have also written plays, novels, poetry, and shopping lists. I do have a day job. It deals with numbers (assets and finances). Go figure. I went to college at a California University. I live in California, Los Angeles, but not downtown. No children, and sadly, between dogs at the moment (dog person, not a cat person). Enough info? I was going for just enough to not be a cypher, yet not enough to entice a stalker. And, I started my blog after being dragged, kicking and screaming, to do so. Blogs! Read about ME here, right? But I have been advised that this is a way to write regularly, and to put your writing OUT THERE. So, here goes. My name is Bronte Healy. Thanks for reading my blog.