Quickly, I realized the Wall of Love was constructed in response to a certain president’s logical and compassionate desire to build a wall between the U.S. and Mexico.
Reading each of the hearts, I couldn’t help but think of a recent revelation. For most of my life I’ve considered success in love to mean having a perfect, romantic love. Single? Rocky marriage? Divorce? Dry spell? Unrequited love?
That’s f*#%&@ bonkers!
Being lucky in love isn’t about partnering up with Prince Charming Harry (although you go, Meghan Markle) or never experiencing heartbreak. Being lucky in love isn’t about romantic love at all! It’s about an abundance of love, period.
And guess what? We can all have that.
Happy Valentine’s Day, Chipmunks. I love you!
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go back to Googling “Meghan Markle’s new hat collection.”
Last fall I lost my mind and decided to go back to school. I’m now halfway through my Masters degree in Humane Education a.k.a. Learnin’ How to Save the Planet.
Of course, we all know I really just want some more of those fancy letters to add to my work signature.
Over the past year, I’ve struggled to find humor while bearing witness to the countless atrocities detailed in the coursework. I even considered throwing in the towel on higher learnin’ altogether. But speaking of towels (wait for it) – there’s still hope! On top of the recent move to tiny living, here are some of my favorite ways of ensuring the world’s chipmunks will have many, many years left to thrive:
1. (S)wipe Left on Paper Products
No, no, no. I’m not asking you to trade your TP for twigs. But getting into the habit of using dishtowels as napkins is the gift that keeps on giving! Who wants to dry their hands with 18 pieces of tissue paper anyway?
I love using soft, fluffy hand towels as much as…
2. Bag Lady
I’m obsessed with my reusable bags. Remember this?
No more once you switch to sturdy, waterproof bags!
3. From K-Cups to More-than-OK-Cups
Not only do they make gobs of compostable products for any coffee machine, they also sell reusable Keurig K-Cup pods that you can fill with your own coffee, then compost the grinds, for a totally waste-free caffienating experience.
4. Got milk? Yeah, and it’s nuts!
Swapping out any one dairy (or meat) item at any one meal for a plant-based option instead is a HUGE win for woodland critters and humans alike. I know, I know. “BUT CHEESE,” you’re thinking. Thankfully, the plant-based options for milk and cheese are becoming more convincing than ever – check out Chao cheese if you don’t believe me. (For more on the implications of eating dairy, which I know can be confusing – shoot me a note. And here’s a great article with lots of cool charts emphasizing the impact of small dietary changes.)
Since then, I’ve upgraded to an item that’s marketed as “the most beautiful composter in the world.” By tossing all of my raw produce, coffee grinds and compostable packaging in there, these bad boys have cut down my garbage by a whopping 75%!
6. It’s the Little Things that Count
Plastic straws, paper receipts, those little stickers on your fruits and vegetables – they really add up! Say “no thanks” when you can and hopefully these items, much like Scott Baio, will soon become a thing of the past.
7. This is Us. Not Buying New Sh*t.
Learning about the materials and energy required to produce every single new consumer good was enough for me to reconsider buying that battery operated armpit hair braider. Even recycling itself -turning those plastic Sprite bottles into a rug, for example- can demand intensive resources. Choosing refurbished or borrowed items will make you the Kevin to Mother Nature’s Kate.
8. Do you have your permission slip?
Because it’s field trip time! Visit your local farm sanctuary and be amazed by the animals’ stories. Did you know chickens experience REM sleep and teach calls to their babies before they’re born? They even purr! So cool!
9. Cabbage Patch Pets
Remember how Cabbage Patch dolls came with those nifty adoption papers? There’s a lot to be said for adoption – skip the breeders and pet stores and scoop up a rescue.
10. Fork You
Switching to reusable utensils (and dishware) was a “sacrifice” that played in my favor! I dine like a queen at work:
11. Warm Fuzzies
The best thing you can do for chipmunks? Love. Love them, love yourself, and love the land we share.
The title of this post implies that I’ve gone off to do something I don’t normally do. Ha ha. Well. Let’s go with it.
That’s right. I’m going fishing drinking.
Peppermeister and I celebrate our 4th anniversary today, and we’re headed to Long Island ’til Sunday. My extended family has a little house by a bay where I haven’t visited in 10 years, so I’m pretty excited to return. Even if the weather is crap.
The house doesn’t have internet access, which I’m nervousdepressedconfused about okay with. We’ll have, um, cruiser bikes…and bocce ball…and love. So that’s something.
I’m going to let you in on a little secret, Chipmunks.
I’m losing it. (Louise, expect a call any day now.)
The proof is in this post, a.k.a., The Worst Post Ever.
Last night, I got a magical email from someone regarding evidence that a Mini Me exists in this otherwise colorless, desolate, mustache-deprived world.
For the first time since I saw this, I felt complete.
I don’t know how it happened, except I think I do, and it involves vodka-soaked cherries.
I deleted the email! Or I must have, because it’s no where to be found. (Thank my lucky Chipmunks Peppermeister saw it before it disappeared, otherwise I would think I made the whole thing up.) I checked every folder, and my phone, then every folder again, then wept into my coffee, then wrote this post, to:
1) Ask the mother of the most awesome child in the universe if she can kindly resend the email to the biggest nincompoop on the planet, and,
2) Warn you. Everything they say about blondes is true, especially Clairol-enhanced blondes like me. Expect posts about purses that double as dog carriers and/or alien abductions any day now.
P.S. – You guys are seriously like adorable, little, chubby-cheeked miracles. My comments and inbox are alight with your splendor. So much so that I think I must launch a weekly feature for the rest of the summer to prove it. Stay tuned. Heck, it can only go up from here.
If you’re interested, entering is as easy as falling in love with a second spouse:
In the comments section below, tell me what one famous person, dead or alive, you’d like trapped on a deserted island with you (and why).
I’ll choose a favorite and make their wildest dreams come true on Friday, July 20, 2012. This winner can pick a pair of ‘stache glasses (by browsing here), and I’ll have them shipped as a gift, from my guilty pleasure-full heart to theirs.
Print that’s as fine as some people think Channing Tatum is, but, really? What kind of relationship could you possibly have? Especially if he’s at the gym all day? And can he play the guitar or sing? I don’t think so! Get off my deserted island, Abs McIsActingReallyYourCalling! (Please refer to Second Husband and his nerdy tweets to understand my trapped-on-a-deserted-island tastes.)
Oh right, the Fine Print: This giveaway is open to anyone who is willing and able to enter, and to email me their address in the event that they’re the winner. If you have any trouble leaving a comment in the comments section below, you can enter via email: Julie(dot)Davidoski(at)yahoo(dot)com. One submission per person.
As a reminder, I am no way affiliated with this company (SunStaches). I’m just a giveaway junkie. Hey now. You just leave the judging to me.
You Chipmunks are so clever. That’s why I do these things.
And you’re no fools, either. Most of you wisely appealed to my vanity and/or fantasy life with your amazing ‘win a pair of mustache glasses‘ entries, in which I asked you to submit a juicy, probing question.
As promised, I have picked a favorite question and am answering it here. This particular entry really stuck with me; much like scorpion paperweights, I couldn’t stop thinking about it, even when I wanted to.
So please, raise your tiny, adorable, chipmunk paws and give a warm round of applause to…
If you and [your mom] Babs had a cage fight, who would win and how?
Louise, needless to say, it got really, really ugly between Babs and me. Before I reveal the winner of the cage fight, let me take you back in time, to how it all started…
Babs and I were spending another typical Saturday out shopping, me shielding her from mom jeans, her encouraging me to spend actual money. Of course we were ultimately killing time until booze o’clock. We figured we could make it until at least noon.
A few [dozen] Long Island Iced Teas in, Babs decided she couldn’t stay away from Talbots any longer.
“If you do this, Babs, we’re through,” I threatened. Had she forgotten so soon? This was the very same clothing store that suggested, just one year ago, I try their curvy line of pants.
“Just five minutes,” she pleaded. I watched her pass through the wretched red doors in disbelief.
She emerged, as promised, five minutes later, wearing pleated khaki pants, a braided leather belt, white mock turtleneck and navy sweater vest with apples and pears stitched on it.
“I can’t even look at you,” I muttered.
“Listen, Chipmunk-san, do you want to take this to the cage?”
I considered her for a long moment. In that get-up, she wasn’t my mother. She was the enemy.
“You’re on!” I cried.
A Talbots saleswoman in a referee jersey appeared, and pretty soon we were pulling out our best roundhouse kicks and other things that people may or may not do while cage fighting.
“I loved you too much, was that the problem?” Babs cried, shielding herself from my [cute yet affordable] high-heeled kicks.
“You never bought me that American Girl doll!” I hollered back. “Samantha was all class, all the time! I had to learn how to eat petit fours by myself! What did you think was going to happen?”
“You never comment on my Facebook pictures,” she continued in the same martyred voice.
“Tap shoes! I said. “Remember those? Of course you don’t! I don’t either!” I ducked before she could ruin my make-up.
“And we never talk about ‘NSync anymore. Remember when you bedazzled that striped fleece shirt to say ‘Justin’ for the one concert?”
I narrowed my eyes, “Just for that, I’m never having kids.”
Babs paused, her fist in the air. She lowered her arm and replied, “Good. I don’t even like your dog.”
My jaw dropped. While I tried to gather myself, she clocked me right where it counts – in the heart.
And so, unsurprisingly, the winner of the cage fight is: