Flight of the ‘Rangs

We needed a wide open space to test the boomerangs we designed and built. Perhaps we were a bit optimistic about the flight capabilities, but nevertheless we chose the park and took my dog with us for a walk.

The spot we chose for flight test was in the center where we figured we could throw in two different directions, one into the slight breeze and the other one in the same direction as the wind current.

My three-winged piñata, as I christened the milk jug, yogurt container, paper-mâché boomerang, performed as I expected. It sailed great, didn’t return and hurt if it hit anyone. If I’d filled it with treats my dog would have had a good reason to sink her teeth into it. It made for a great game for as long as she wanted to fetch.

My honey’s more traditional style boomerang had wider wings, a longer wing span and the cardboard made it more rigid. On his first throw, the ‘ran soared out, made a turn and then flopped to the ground.

“That was probably a fluke, the wind caught it.” He obviously wanted a no-arguments win.

He threw in the same direction as the wind and had the same result except this time the ‘rang soared out, made the turn and came back part way before landing gracefully.

I hugged him. Yes I’m a good sport. “Your design is the clear winner for boomerang qualities.”

We took turns throwing our designs and the dog played along too. We had to call an end to the sport when my boomerang stuck up in a tree and his bent. My honey thought of design modifications. I’m betting we’ll repeat this date many times. My honey caught the design and boomerang throwing bug.

THE END

Building a Boomerang

Our design date was a challenge to make a boomerang that will fly from scrap and trash. Having fund and environmental awareness can happily coexist especially when we can use items that often become trash for our projects.

My honey remarked, “This project would be easier if I could carve mine out of wood.” He made a good point and echoed some of the arguments against cleaning up our collective industrial act. Rethinking how we do things when old ways work efficiently takes time, effort and often money.

We vowed our project would only require our time and effort to have fun. We spread our materials across the living room floor: milk jugs, newspapers, pie tins, twigs and other assorted junk. Even though we were pretending this wasn’t a competition, we both knew we wanted to create a boomerang that would fly and return to us. Yes we want to win and therefore didn’t work together just observed and made occasional comments.

He worked on a design with layers of cardboard and plastic that looked like a traditional boomerang. My design is based on three blades that I hope will fly like a helicopter. We agreed I excelled at creative use of materials including a milk jug, yogurt cups, shiny-paper advertisements and a flour-water paste.

However I’m not sure my contraption will even fly; it ended up looking like a piñata, perhaps because I painted it purple with left-over paint. I expect extra kudos for using the paint because theoretically we should use up paint rather than discarding. I do have hope. I’ve watched videos of people playing with piñatas. They usually fly well and make a great weapon just like the boomerang was originally used.

What I like best about this type of date is that it happens in segments with extra time spent together. Tomorrow - the test flight.

THE END

Mwah to the World

We’re making our Romance Wish list for how to spend the winter holidays. Our list of priorities includes time together, to make only tiny environmental footprints and to spread the joy of romance.

My perfect holiday means indulging in favorite foods, cuddling beside my honey to read a book, running at least three miles and then working together on a project. In spite of the commercial appeal of giving and receiving true joy comes from simple pleasures and having someone to share them with.

Our romantic theme for this holiday season is renewal. Instead of continuing with routine, we plan to evaluate home and lifestyle to find sustainable opportunities for change and excitement. For us this means learning new skills. We are compatible because we have diverse and complementary interests that intersect at our love of learning.

Our gift to our readers is sharing a list of ideas related to education and knowledge we hope you can use to enhance your own romantic moments.

Take a class together

Tour a factory, museum or public visitor center related to renewable energy, waste reclamation and resource conservation. Feel free to borrow our list or make your own based on your priorities and interests

Learn to skills to enhance personal and career goals – computer programming, public speaking, fundraising, graphic design, dancing, acting and comedy

Private Think Tank. Tackle a problem together to find a novel solution. Our first project is more fun than life-changing, we plan to scour our belongings and trash then use only those materials to design and build at least two boomerangs.

May you all have more joy and romance in your lives in the coming year!

THE END

To Tree or Not to Tree

For those celebrating Noel, Yule or Christmas, the trimmed tree is considered an integral part of the celebration. I remember tromping through the snow to help choose and evergreen. My dad set it up on the three-legged stand with water trough. The family gathered to decorate it with treasured ornaments.

Often these trees end up in a landfill though environmentally friendly options exist including having a real tree recycled into mulch, buy a faux tree made of metal, plastic or man-made materials, going without a tree, substituting a facsimile wall hanging with a tree pattern or putting a living tree in a planter and then transplanting it later in the yard.

My honey and I chose a living tree this year because the branches will provide shelter for the winter birds in our yard. For our date, we went to choose the tree. Our options were fir, spruce, cedar, pine and sequoia. The choice depended on the destination. We finally settled on a spruce and we decided to not even set it up in the house for the holidays.

Just because tradition dictates putting gifts under the tree doesn’t mean either the gifts or the tree are absolutes. My honey thought the tree was enough of a gift because we would get joy from it all year. We’ll be able to watch our tree grow along with our relationship and we will enjoy the birds’ antics. The birds will celebrate the season in style because we also brought home twenty-five pounds of birdseed.

THE END

Good Deed Leads to Decadent Treats

Local ordinances in most urban areas dictate sidewalks must be free of snow within 24 hours after a snowstorm. Local papers post regular notices reminding people of this responsibility. On my street some people choose to ignore the duty, others are unable to fulfill the obligation because of health reasons.

I decided if I can do the job with my shovel, I’m being environmentally friendly and saving the several elderly and disabled people on my street from possibly being ticketed. Shoveling down one sidewalk to the stop sign and them making the return trip on the other side of the street doesn’t take long. Bonus, my fitness factor improves and as a side-effect improves romance too.

Being a good neighbor doesn’t count as a romantic activity, well it might for some, but I’m only interested in romance with my honey. I asked him to join me. Who knew competition was just what we needed as a pre-date warm-up.

“Race you to the end of the block.” He issued the challenge.

I had my shovel poised and made the first scoop before agreeing. “You’re on.”

Half way down the street one neighbor wandered over to me. “Why are you shoveling everyone’s sidewalk?”

“Not everyone is able to, but I am so why not?”

“That’s good of you.”

While he stopped me to chat, my honey was getting ahead. “Look, I’m not trying to be rude but we’re racing and I’d like to win.”

The older man chuckled and let me go. “Give him a run for the prize.”

“You bet.” My short break gave me an energy burst and I flung snow faster than before.

That neighbor let some other neighbors know what that freaky-exercise-fanatic enviro-health nut neighbor was up to now. Not often do dates become spectator sports except on my street. Neighbors came out with shoves to pitch in and some just cheered us on.

With just two more front yards to clear, we were in a dead heat. I put my shovel point at an angle and ran to the end of the street with now flying like from a snowplow and then turned around to run back in the other direction.

My sidewalk was clean and maybe I must barely edged ahead. My honey hugged me. We would have been happy with the ‘thank yous’ but one of the neighbors offered tea and sweets. Always a good reason to share some time with others.

THE END

You Tingle My Toes

My honey detests the term metrosexual, but enjoys pedicures. Especially if that massage is based on reflexology to hit the pressure points associated with healing or fitness of various organs of the body.

I’m glad neither of us have ticklish feet because at the end of a work week nothing is quite as relaxing. Even though I’ve spend a day at the spa for rejuvenation with a friend and we had a good time side by side in the massage chairs at the spa. I wasn’t sure if giving each other a foot massage would classify as a date.

I have to give a qualified yes. This can be a great romantic activity as long as both partners give and receive. Our shared version of the pedicure and massage started with a nice warm foot soak, massage with scented oils and reflexology by using a foot chart from a self-help book I checked out from the library.

Instead of one of us getting the works first followed by the other, we shared a tub of steaming water, perfect for playing footsies. Then we took turns with the massages. The floor of the den worked great with towels to protect from drips, the fireplace on to keep us toasty warm and lots of pillows to prop us into the perfect position for having our feet rubbed at the same time.

We fended the evening with mint lemonade and some spa type food. I made chipotle hummus to be served with cucumber rounds and miso soup. He made a grilled vegetable Panini ahead of time and let the flavors meld until we were ready. Life just felt a little fresher and truly combined relaxing and energizing.

THE END

I Like My Photography with Passion

My digital camera means I don’t have to print or even save photos I don’t like when I’m editing. When I extol the virtues of my more environmentally friendly choice, my honey’s eyes glaze and his head tilts to the side. My honey doesn’t share my love of photography though on occasion he uses the camera function on his cell phone to preserve a memory. He supports my passion though and one morning he offered to act as guide and site locator for a nature photo shoot.

When we arrived at the fairgrounds/recreation area just before dawn, the moon stood out in white contrast against an inky backdrop peppered with stars. I took a couple shots and we headed off on the path winding around the edge of the golf course. He pointed out the fishing ponds and the people fly fishing in colorful gear. It would have made a nice contrast picture but it wasn’t the nature I sought.

The sun rose while we walked. Canadian geese landed in the pond. He pointed out mud puddles reflecting the sunrise and trees. As the light grew brighter, wild flowers painted the hills in shades of pink, yellow and purple. I found plenty of elements to photograph except for a perfect shot of the ponds. While I wandered beside a swampy area snapping pictures of bugs, he scouted other trails.

“Hey babe, you have to see this.” He beckoned me deeper along a path into a canopy of trees.

I expected a beautiful view. Instead he held my hand while we crossed a natural bridge over the inlet of a stream to the other side where a willow created a green bower. He pulled me in under the branches, held me close and kissed me. The dilemma with photography is finding a way to capture the magic of that moment in an image.

THE END

We Woke up to a Snowy Day

Nature provides some naturally fun toys. Fluffy flakes and mild temperatures create perfect sticky snow conditions for building snow sculptures. Bundled up in thermal outerwear with gloves and hats my honey and I ventured out into the snow to play instead of getting straight to work.

My first attempt to roll a ball resulted in some clumping, but not enough accumulation to make a snowman. The snow wasn't yet damp enough to pack well. Time for some old-fashioned ingenuity. I flopped flat on my back and swung my arms and legs back and forth to create the indentation of a snow angel. Then I raided the kitchen for blows and molds to create snow blocks and a squirt bottle with water to help with the stickiness.

We piled blocks one on top of the other like laying masonry and the still falling snow was more wet to make an ideal mortar. My honey formed a small fort and I stacked the snow almost four feet tall to make a tomten (a Scandinavian elf that helps with chores and has a special affinity for animals). I used a garden trowel to carve the pointy hat, facial features including a beard and carved one arm raided to wave Hello. We neither helped each other or competed.

"Can you pass me the big bowl?"

"May I use the trowel?"

We worked side-by-side in companionship. He finished first and went indoors to make cocoa. I used the extra time to make a snow puppy to keep the tomten company. My honey came back outside, wrapped his arms around me and rubbed our noses together in what people call an Eskimo kiss. He charmed me to catch me off-guard long enough to rub a handful of snow in my face. Oh my, I wasn't taking that without a snowball fight.

Once thoroughly soaked and starting to chill we went inside to change into something warm and dry and sip the cocoa he made with cinnamon. Aren't the best dates really just a good excuse to cuddle anyway?

THE END

To Be Thankful Together

Oh the dilemma, with our families living over a thousand miles away we had to deal with travel questions. Should I spend the money to travel to my parents for a long weekend? Does Thanksgiving or any holiday require visiting family? Will we do any permanent damage to relationships by choosing to spend the holiday the way we want? Are the additional emissions from travel worth the trip?

Admittedly every decision doesn’t justify pulling out the environmentally friendly argument, but for many of us it is part of the equation. My honey made the best argument for staying home. “Being thankful can be done with any kind of family, eve one created just for the occasion.”

Together we mulled over the traditions while we enjoyed mugs of hot cider and decided to pick and choose for our special holiday. I refused to cook a turkey; traditions don’t mean I have to stop being a vegetarian. My menu was stuffed seitan roast, sautéed potatoes O’Brien, curried cabbage and apples, lemony garlic green beans and cranberry sauce. Fort the table full of pies too, I made dark chocolate molasses brownies to be served a la mode as guests preferred.

Our family became those friend we share many things with and new acquaintances who could use a new family for the holiday. We didn’t forget our relatives with phone calls to let them know we care. We dreaded hearing criticism and the ultimate question. “When are you coming home?” Instead they just told us they missed us.

Cuddled up after the holiday we discussed the odd thing about holidays; that delicate balance of family politics. Family expects blood relations to trump a date, lover or friends. Instead of releasing everyone to enjoy the day as they wish, tradition seems to dictate following outmoded social rules, traveling farther than prudent, eating more than it healthy of foods that aren’t necessarily favorites and pretending to be thankful for thing that aren’t a part of our daily lives just to make others happy.

We agreed. There is nothing inherently wrong with tradition unless for the sake of custom we sacrifice ideals and goals we care about. I’m thankful to have the opportunity to spend time with someone who shares similar values.

THE END

Lawn Bowling Tournament

My honey’s favorite pastime is lawn blowing. In some cultures this is a social event. The men like to drink, joke and participate in good natured odds making; they enjoy the camaraderie while the wives or girlfriends watch, chat and sometimes participate.

Before I played, as a date I rated it low on the scale of spending time with someone I care about. Turns out I was wrong. A social date is similar to interval training; I enjoyed short spurts of heart thumping romance when he put his arms around me to demonstrate the perfect technique for throwing the ball or when his eyes sought mine to give me a silent message.

He teased me into a game, his skill against my beginners’ luck. I have just one rule, he can’t be so condescending to just let me win. No matter how frustrated I become to work for it or it’s just not exciting. His friends joined the action by saying I would win and trying to break his concentration. I didn’t have anything to prove except that I could become a worthy opponent.

He tossed out the ball-bearing sized ball and I stepped to the line holding a yellow grapefruit-sized ball. I tossed it trying to get it to land as close to the smaller ball as possible. The trick is to use physics to an advantage, minimize rolling and maximize friction. I landed eight inches away. Good, but not great.

He needed to land closer or hit my ball or the smaller ball way. He tossed a green ball and it rolled to snuggle up to the target. Since his throw would be the last in the round, he had the advantage. My chance was to move his ball away from the target. My aim was good and his ball rolled off the court and mine stayed near the target. His turn; he had no choice except getting rid of my ball. Smack. My ball flew off the court.

His friends congratulated him. I couldn’t resist a jab. “Maybe if it wasn’t ladies first I would have won.” I issued the challenge, he accepted. During the game, I learned how to use two balls for strategy because that’s how he won again.

He left me no choice. I had to cheat. By distracting him I won one round. Not to be outdone all the women joined in. A sustainable relationship benefits from the village and a little (ahem) friendly competition can be quite romantic.

THE END

Sharing a Date with Nursing Home Residents

Hailing from a military lineage of service to this country, I enjoy spending time with veterans. When we go to a nursing home, my honey plays the guitar and sings some of the residents’ favorite songs; I encourage the residents to talk about their lives and I listen. These men and women reminisce and share stories. One gentleman adopted me for almost an hour. He’d ask me questions about my love and compare places we’ve been to find similarities.

A person doesn’t need to approve o war to respect veterans. To simply forget or disregard the time and effort expended in serving our country is to diminish a part of who a person is. Not to be outdone, one of the ladies at my table said she never served in the military but she helped with morale during WWII. With a teasing twinkle in her eye she told me, “I’m in a wheelchair today because I would go to the dances and dance until the music ended just to remind the boys to come home.” Then she danced to celebrate the end of the war.

Veterans need to feel special and not just on one or two days of remembrance during the year. Some would rather forget things they’ve experienced. Some brag about mischief perpetrated and voice pride at having been in a certain place during a historic moment. Most are humble when thanked for service to country.

On the way home, my honey and I extended our joy by swapping stories to relive the visit. Friends and foes are all humans caught on opposing sides of ideology. When the conflict is over, each person deserves the opportunity to tell his or her story and to be listened to and respected.

THE END

For the Love of a Peacock Round-up

Animal shelters and sanctuaries run under not-for-profit status face issues beyond just surviving budget crises caused by relying on donations; they may not be able to afford enough staff to meet work needs. Animals require a lot of daily care: fresh bedding, stalls or habitats cleaned, regular feeding, exercise and health/medical care. Being short staffed doesn’t leave a lot of extra time for fence and structure repair, filling potholes in roads and servicing equipment.

We chose to volunteer at a small local shelter one weekend. Our chores for the day allowed us to work side-by-side. Hot dusty work is always easier with companionship. Unfortunately I’m always the true story behind a joke. One of the pigs saw me as a novice to break in or just bruise if possible.

When I carried the bucket to fill his water dish into his stall, he crowed me against the wood slats and held me there before easing away just far enough for me to feel safe. He ran toward the water dish, so I thought Buddy was just eager for a drink. Nope. He rushed me, caught my left leg and knocked me over. Slosh. Water covered me from visor cap to muddy jeans. My honey laughed until buddy turned toward him.

Four o’clock in the afternoon came way too quickly for the owners. “Would you mind staying a few more minutes? If all of us work together, we should be able to move the peacocks to their new pen.”

These peacocks did not walk docile in single file to their new digs. Two strutted with fans spread wide as models showing off the latest fashion, forward and then turned to go backstage in the first pen. AHHH! The other two took off in opposite directions and needed to be chased down and encouraged to return by flapping towels. With two people in charge of the gates we still left it open and let one escape back into the yard. Forty-five minutes later, ten people managed to her four peacocks into their new pen.

We ended up sweaty, grimy and exhausted and we loved it. That was just one day. The owners do similar chores every day and still must find time for administrative and fundraising duties. They need volunteers. To help, call local shelters and sanctuaries to ask about volunteer opportunities or to donate money or supplies. They need help year round so put your money or time to back up your values.

THE END

Concert in the Park

Parks were once a convivial place where people could meet, chat, buy trinkets and enjoy food. A festive occasion with music, kids running around dancing and the family pets sniffing around for abandoned morsels. Concerts in the park revive community spirit to rival the medieval square is sponsored by the cultural districts and other sponsors with. Some are more organized than others with more festivities and some focus on just just the concert.

This means bringing blankets, pillows, lawn chairs, a picnic lunch, perhaps a flying disk or ball to keep the kids and dogs busy and a crank-up flashlight to add magic to the darkness. People arrive early to stake out their territory by placing a blanket on the ground or lawn chairs and relying on the honor system to ensure the claimed space is saved for the concert.

On the last Friday in August, the climax and last breath of the concerts in the park season, one couple arrived with beach chairs, a table and a cooler filled with wine, cheese, crackers and fruit. A man set up a stand and strung a double hammock with pillows. My honey and I brought our folding loveseat and an extra large quilt.

I made a vegan Panini sandwich with almond spread, fresh tomatoes and basil, sautéed squash, onions and eggplant. To drink I put my mint limonada (think fresh squeezed limeade or a mojito sans alcohol) in a thermos. With cloth napkins and glass tumblers we could have been dining at a fine restaurant if that restaurant surrounded each table with live entertainment.

So maybe it wasn’t stare-into-each-others’-eyes and absorb glowing love romance; it was better with vibrant energy, the approval of the community and a chance to huddle (I mean snuggle) together under the quilt when the temperature dropped as soon as the sun slid behind the rocky crags presiding over the park. He put his arm around me. Romance benefits from a community for nurturing.

THE END

How Much Can We Adapt

To find a little culture and a lot of nature, we went to the Saguaro National Park to the west of Tucson to view the petroglyphs and pictographs left by earlier inhabitants. We followed the deeply rutted unpaved dirt track in our tiny 4-WD to find the parking are where we could park and take the short hike on the designated trail to Signal Hill to view the pictures.

We took many pictures of the swirls, animal stick figures, wheels and other patterns either carved into the rock or painted on. The white contrasted the brown of the stone. We planned ahead to arrive early enough in the day to avoid the worst of the heat. People around us complained how hot the desert was and about the lack of shade.

The desert is all about contrasts; searing days, frigid nights, minimal water and still thriving and abundant life. Taking lessons from desert dwellers could be a good lesson in adaptability. Instead of forcing a natural habitat to us as humans, we need to learn the techniques for adapting to our environment. We must conserve resources, know survival techniques for making the most of water and food and to modify our activity to appropriate times of the day.

Climate change is seen in the history of the desert southwest which has at various times been a lush natural and agricultural oasis with plentiful water. Native people flourished and when conditions became tougher with climate changes they abandoned the area to those who could adapt.

THE END

Etiquette for Striking Out a Date

A friendly game of softball remains a great pastime and is environmentally friendly. We called friends for a five gal-five guy just enough to field the bases, a pitcher and a catcher for a Friday evening multiple date. We might have learned the sport in elementary school or earlier, but all of us were out of practice; most of us hadn’t played for at least five years and some as many as fifteen or twenty years.

We dug our old gloves from storage, rounded up a couple of bats (not one of has had a lucky bat or cared about weight, length or balance) and two scuffed regulation size softballs. Dare we play gals against guys? You bet.

My honey pitched for his team and when it was my turn to bat he motioned for his team to move closer. No way had he expected me to hit a homer. I admit I’d have bet against me even getting a hit. His first pitch was slow and gentle. “Strike One!”

He gave me every chance to hit an easy ball, but the timing threw me off. “Just pitch as if I were a guy.”

He held the bridge of his nose. My guess is he was considering the wisdom of striking me out. He made up his mind; this would only be the second strike anyway. He threw a fast ball; he’d never played softball only baseball. I swung and nicked it, a foul ball popped up in the air backwards and hit the backboard. The catcher missed it. I wasn’t out, just “Strike Two!”

I didn’t care about statistics, I’d at least connected bat to ball. He pitched and I hit the ball just hard enough toward left field to run and touch safe on first base. We played until we called the game because of darkness. The guys won bragging rights. Like any other game there was some good game butt slapping and a stolen kiss or two. We love old-fashioned dating because we had fun without damaging our budget or the environment.

THE END

If it Tastes like Olive Oil

I love presentations because of the element of interaction impossible to duplicate by a recorded show. While my honey and I are not always in agreement about topics, we respect each other enough to attempt to learn about each other's interests. My hobby and one of my former careers is cooking/recipe developer. Since he prefers to have me cook and might even be a little intimidated by the kitchen, he held my hand for protection when we walked into the library conference room for an olive oil presentation and tasting.

Arriving early is essential to ensuring a good seat. I like the first or second rows. People crowded in around us, some couples, some family and a few groups of friends on an outing. The temperature in the room rose and I got comfortable by taking off my cardigan. The presenter started right away.

She gave an outline of her talk and told us at what point she would answer questions. We learned about the types of olives, producing regions and climates where olives thrive, harvesting and processing to ensure a fruity tasting oil or blending to make a standardized product. She covered health benefits and how to choose an olive oil based on personal taste.

We learned facts and anecdotes we hadn't known. Most of the audience was impatient for the tasting portion when we would sample six different oils from various countries and two balsamic vinegars. The moment she invited people to taste, a rush to get in line resulted in a couple of overturned chairs, trampled feet and many hands grabbing for bread cubes. Some people would hold up the bottle and exclaim about the attributes we had just learned.

My honey and I held back and chatted. We weren't in any hurry because three of the companies had provided sample sizes we could take home (in glass bottles for easy recycling). Our turn came just as the bread was running out. We each got three large cubes we broke into smaller chunks to dip in the different oils and experience the flavor variations. The old saying that two people who spend a lot of time together develop similar tastes is correct. We chose the same olive oil as our favorite. That evening for dinner, we had fine quality olive oil samples to drizzle on our salads.

THE END

Love in the Falling Leaves

Those trees that provide shade during summer give free material for compost in the autumn. Unfortunately, my trees are unable to place the leaves in the right spot.

Leaf raking might not sound like much of a date, but if it must be done I intend to have fun doing it. My honey prepared the rakes and wheelbarrow. My dog wandered across the law and collected leaves in her fur. I put mulled cider in the slow cooker and made pumpkin scones.

The sun was warm, no wind blew, the temperature held at a balmy 75 degrees Fahrenheit. The pile of leaves grew on the front lawn until it was so large I was tempted to jump in like a kid. I contemplated whether it would seem immature and silly. Absolutely not; enjoying life as it comes is essential.

I fell backward and wiggled my arms to burrow deeper. My dog joined in by jumping on top of me, yipping and then licking my face. More leaves flew to cover us. My honey scooped them into the air and let them fall. The dog jumped out and tried to catch the leaves. Even with time out for fun, the leaves ended up in the compost pile and we took time to relax.

My honey proposed a toast with a cup of warm cider. "To fertile imaginations and the soil that gives them life."

I never would have guessed raking leaves could be so romantic. My new appreciation for trees goes beyond their contribution to cleaner air, shade, windbreak and all those attributes that make planting more good for the environment. Trees are a living metaphor for growing love.

THE END

Browsing Leads to Future Fun

The outdoor sports supply stores of my youth were very different from what can be found now. Back then I tagged along with my parents to pick up hiking essentials. My recent visit to the REI flagship store along the Platte River in Denver was an awesome experience. My honey and I went there to plan our activities and find out what is available to update our gear.

We walked into the store and saw the Pinnacle, the freestanding climbing wall. The climbing wall looks like the cliffs along the Front Range. Once my honey managed to pull me away from watching the climbers, I enjoyed looking at all the new products for hiking. Technology has made gear lighter in weight and more efficient. The wall designated for foods for hiking amazed me. These aren't the old rations; I even found a vegan/vegetarian line of products available.

My honey wanted to look at the ski equipment and winter gear. We thought that just having some of these products would make survival enjoyable. I especially liked discovering that we could get topographical maps printed on demand for the specific area we wanted to hike.

I haven't been on any long back country hikes for a while. I'd like to think I'm up to the challenge after some practice day and overnight hikes. And I love the on purpose getting lost to find my way out through orienteering. I'm going to enjoy these even more with a partner I love if the excitement generated by our planning is any indication.

We also enjoyed finding labels that showed a company was at least working on being environmentally friendly. We found numerous options including clothing made from recycled soda bottles, a commitment to reduced paper tag labeling and companies committed to self-recycling products if I manage to wear them out. We found organic treats for my dog and a recyclable chew toy.

Now I've always thought that hikers and other active-outdoor-sports enthusiast hold a greater respect for the environment though I have seen some evidence to the contrary. The books and gear designed for the pack-it-in-pack-it-out create minimal impact lifestyle groups make me proud to have been raised a granola-head. I'm going to enjoy introducing my honey to my favorite sport of hiking and I'm looking forward to having him share skiing with me.

THE END

Alternative Transport: Biker Friendly?

Getting to a date or appointment using alternative transportation requires commitment, daring and in some areas a rebellious soul willing to put life and limb in peril for defying the automobile culture. Biking to work, biking to a date, biking doesn't use fossil fuel or create carbon emissions. I love my bike and used it as my chief transportation during graduate school for my 6-mile-one-way commute.

Tucson, Arizona has bike lanes and is a very positive environment for bikers. Unfortunately I'm not in Tucson any longer. I am geographically challenged for biking because I live thirty miles from a big city and nine miles from a small city. I don't bike every day, but even in cold weather I make an effort to use my bicycle as much as possible.

Even when the law demands sharing the road with bikers, automobile drivers see bikes as a nuisance. I advocate that bikers must obey the laws of the road - stop at stop signs, obey traffic lights and drive defensively.

I recently used my bike to meet for a presentation on organic olive oil. When I was putting on my helmet and preparing to leave, a man walked up to me. "You do know the price of fuel is dropping so you don't have to bike to save money."

As if the cost of fuel makes it OK to use more fossil fuel. I didn't feel like having to defend my right to choose to bike though. "As long as I bike I'm healthier and the size of my clothing doesn't go up." So, maybe I didn't play fair by verbally assaulting his spare tire, but sometimes well-meaning advice just makes me rebel more.

Biking is a viable option for alternative transportation. Until our culture relies less on automobiles though, anyone making the choice will either find the need to defend the choice, ignore the critics or get out there and promote biking as excellent alternative transportation.

THE END

Friends with Meal Benefits

A creative solution for preparing casseroles and not ending up having to eat the same dish every night for a week is to share with others. For the price of a casserole or two, I get a variety of different meals for the week.

We started with four people to gain at least four days worth of meals. Each person must bring a casserole that will serve four to six people, meaning couples are welcome as long as they bring two dishes. Every participant is also responsible for providing their single-serve containers or packing multiple meals back in the one casserole dish. To enhance the fun, we've tried this with desserts too.

The host can ensure that meals meet standards (vegetarian or tweaked to accommodate allergies). Each person should bring the recipe or at least a list of all ingredients. One way to coordinate this is to have each person choose two options and then email to all participants and let them vote on preference and provide information on food allergies.

Everyone comes to the host location with a casserole ready to bake or one already made. Some people prefer to do the cooking on-site and have friends act as sous chefs. At the party, the host has snacks or meals to offer. Spending time with friends, having fun and celebrating food are the highlight of the evening. When I dig out a meal during the week I have two benefits, reminiscing about time with people I care about and enjoying a meal I just had to warm up.

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Help thy Neighbors Prepare for Winter

Nostalgia for the good old days is double-edged; on one side I get that warm help-your-neighbor glow and from the other side I get that icy strained-muscle-rather-stay-in-bed ache. I'd read about barn raisings and quilting bees. I believe in the ideal of neighbors joining together to finish a project is what this county should still stand for, though this past weekend strained my zeal.

I was volunteered to split and stack firewood. Notice the passive voice; this was not an active decision by me. I'm all for using firewood for heating in a responsible manner because wood is a renewable resource and with improving technology is becoming cleaner burning. The reason for the firewood project involved clean up of dead trees from pine beetle infestation. The trees came from my friend's lot in the mountains.

In two weekends, he'd piled enough blocks to make six cords of wood, imagine the floor space of my two-bedroom, one-bath home with living room, kitchen, dining room and sun porch covered with wood one block deep. The odds of my friend burning that much wood in one winter when he already had his winter's wood were unlikely. Therefore, the neighbors benefited.

I spent my weekend filling a wheelbarrow with split pine, dumping it at the new location and stacking it into squared off stacks. These pieces of wood should never match, like putting together a puzzle by dropping the pieces on a table, mashing them a few times with a rolling pin until they made a solid mat and calling the project a success.

My friend said he wouldn't do the project without me because of my stacking ability. Never again should I admit to experience of this sort. The temperature hovered at 40 degrees Fahrenheit all weekend. Basking in performing a good deed doesn't warm quite the same as backing up to a wood stove, but it does build character.

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Silent Bonding or Just a Good Massage

Just because a person is trying to be environmentally friendly and striving to leave only footprints doesn’t mean she must sacrifice all pampering for the sake of the environment. I love the meeting of nature and massage for an eco-friendly date.

One Saturday afternoon, in the dappled shade of an oak beside a pond, my honey and I settled on mats with large cotton towels and blankets for comfort. The warmth made me sleepy. My eyes closed, I didn’t want to miss a moment of the massage though. If I fell asleep I would miss out on the experience. My honey squeezed my hand in silent communication.

While the two massage therapists worked the stress from our muscles, I enjoyed the feel of warm oil and the gentle flow of hands over skin to melt away the stress. The special oil had mint in it and when it was rubbed into my scalp, all my cares disappeared. I breathed easier and inhaled the tangy scent blending with the freshness of the air.

We didn’t speak to keep the moment pure. In touch with our inner feelings and the opportunity to become with nature, just human animals listening to the chirping of the crickets, a lazy sound dependent on air temperature. The buzz of other insects, the plop-swish made by frogs moving into the pond and the tiny dollop-dimple sound of the water skating bugs in preparation for the first glide across the pond.

This was a moment of idyllic quiet before we return to our daily lives. I was surprised that four people could be so silent as to not mar nature by sound. Each person lost in private thoughts and still joined in a special oneness that cannot be duplicated, a unique moment becoming part of the continuum.

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Treasure to be Found in a Book Barn

Of course I wanted to spend a Saturday morning wandering through the stalls of a barn. Especially when the proprietor admitted he didn’t have a clue where to find certain books. I was here by invitation because my date knew I treasured all books. The hard to find and long out of print books are my favorite.

Somewhere in this would-be attic was a treasure waiting to be discovered. The problem was reading every title. I took the ladder to the hayloft and looked down at the stalls. From that height I couldn’t determine which stalls held which subjects.

My date sat in a rocking chair with an oversize book of photographs on his lap and one of those old fashioned viewers he could use to look at special postcards giving the illusion of three-dimensions. He looked up at me and grinned. I waved and blew him a kiss.

From somewhere one golden strand of hay fluttered into my hair and pricked me when I reached up to remove it. Back on the ground floor, I tripped on one of the loose planks and landed on my seat in front of a bookcase. Right there I saw a large brown cover with gold illuminated letters on the cover. The book was a complete works of Shakespeare and had been printed in the first decade of the twentieth century.

This was the treasure I couldn’t bear to put back on the shelf. While I didn’t have competition from other customers for this book, I decided to pay right away. The owner directed me to the back yard where his daughter had a lemonade stand. I bought two cups before joining my date. He’d brought me to the right place and the wrong place. I wanted to bring home every book. I praised the owner for rescuing so many books from becoming trash. I didn’t want to leave.

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Romance Goes Berry Pickin'

Sunlight made the dew on the maple leaves glisten when I parked in the shade. The parking lot at the organic pick-your-own farm was filled with fossil fuel gorging SUVs. The strawberries and raspberries were a big draw for parents from the city.

The owner met us at the back door of the barn turned fruit and vegetable stand. She handed us each a cardboard box. "Take as many cartons as you want to fill."

The cardboard box had a famous soup label on it and the cartons were made of pressed paperboard. So far, so good.

She pointed. "you can pick in the farthest three rows for raspberries and we're picking in the strawberry field to the right."

We thanked her and started to walk to the field.

"Wait."

We turned around.

"If you'd like, hop on the haywagon and we'll take you to the field."

The hayrides seemed popular with the kids; all I could think was itchy hay sticking in my hair and to my clothes. Too many memories from childhood. Fortunately my date was up for a walk too and I could avoid the tractor fumes.

While we picked to fill the cartons, we sampled a few berries direct from the vines. Nothing like going right to the source and pesticide free too. Yum! We picked enough berries for me to freeze several containers for winter.

Back at the farm stand, the cashier rang up our purchases. This date cost as much as a vegetarian dinner for two and a movie. We gained scratches from the thorns in the raspberry bushes. I sunburned my nose because the brim of my hat wasn't wide enough. We witnessed city children learning where food comes from and the work involved. Together we learned we share similar values. I have a winter's worth of fresh frozen organic strawberries - can't put a dollar amount on that kind of value. Oh wait, they could, $48.34.

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Light or Dark Coffee

I need to always be prepared by carrying a reusable mug in my briefcase. An unexpected invitation to go for a cup of coffee meant I entered a whole new world of the ubiquitous coffee shop. Where have I been the past fifteen years that I didn’t even know how to order a cup of coffee?

The barista approached. “What can I get you?”

I had been looking at the menu board and experienced a moment of confusion. “All I really want is a plain cup of coffee.

“Light or dark?” The man took pity on the poor ignorant granola head who hadn’t yet caught up with modern culture.

“Dark!”

“Should I leave room for milk or cream?”

Oh no. I really am odd. “No thanks, just hot, dark and strong.” I was talking about the coffee, really not men. OK, so I like my men the same way. I felt guilty holding the disposable cup, like my environmental friends would set the recycle patrol on me. At least the cup was made of recycled pre-consumer paper.

In theory, I knew about coffee shop culture, philosophers and intelligentsia in Europe throughout the twentieth century met in coffee shops and shared thoughts. The modern coffee shop seems to be taken over by writers using laptops sitting at tables alone. I had hoped for sharing ideas etch and my coffee companion proved to be interesting.

He brought up themes to discuss and the conversation ranged from discussion of careers to business, books and then the dangerous territory of politics. In terms of compatibility I’m not sure if a dark straight-up coffee drinker has much in common with an iced mocha latté with extra whipped cream.

The nice thing about opposites is combining strengths. The one topic we didn’t discuss was the environment. The coffee shop embraced recycling and provided an aura of being good for the environment and supports fair trade practices. Next time I’ll make the experience even better by taking my own cup.

One. Two. Want to Paddle my Canoe?

Water reflected back images of the sky and two people gliding across the surface in a wooden canoe. Early morning silence broken only by loons diving, frogs attempting to mate in the swamp and my date. "Look, there's a moose with a calf wading along the edge."

This was an activity I loved. My parents had taken me canoeing often when I was little. I love the smooth motion, the silent speed and being able to look down into the clear water and feel like I'm flying above a whole different world.

My honey and I could combine adventure with exercise and a picnic. The food had been my idea and I packed two different salads, a loaf of bread and my favorite vegan chocolate tofu cake topped with cherries.

Halfway around the lake, he gestured toward a sand bar. We paddled to it and pulled the canoe out of the water. My quilt was perfect for spreading out the meal. I'm glad I brought a pillow too because I fell asleep from the combination of fresh air, exercise and being sated.

We woke in time to paddle the rest of the way around the lake before dark and enjoy the pinks, reds and purples of the sunset. If not for sharing the late afternoon lake with water skiers, people fishing and the huge party barges filled with revelers, we might have felt like explorers on an expedition of discovery.

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Off the Hook

An outdoor guy is not necessarily compatible with an environmentally friendly woman. I said yes to the date before I knew I’d be going ice fishing. My first thought was ‘No! No!’ My second thought was, ‘I’ll never be warm again.’ I refused to get a fishing license because I didn't plan to do more than watch.

My date told me to wear layers because by lunchtime it would be pretty warm. He picked me up before daylight on a Sunday morning with a four-wheel-drive pickup towing a snowmobile trailer. We drove forty miles to the lake where he had his fishing shack and parked on the ice. He had to reassure me several times that it was safe.

I sat behind him on the snowmobile to reach the wood building the size of a garden shed with a metal chimney sticking out of the roof. He made four more trips for gear and food before he started a fire in the wood stove. He achieved very little heat in relation to the smoke billowing from the pipe. I refused to stay inside a building that felt more like a meat locker and escaped outdoors where the temperature in the high-teens was a heatwave.

I watched him bait the hooks with smelt. Who knew smaller fish would entice bigger fish - cannibals. This date was a mistake, but he was proud to be introducing me to a great outdoor sport of watching for flags to pop up indicating a fish was on the hook. Nothing all morning. He jumped on the sled to drive a few hundred yard to visit someone at another shack. I was ready to go home and then I learned we'd be there until dark. I was imprisoned on a block of ice hoping to see a flag waving in the air to indicate a pending execution. I don't even eat fish.

Late afternoon a flag waved. He grabbed the line, reeled it in and saw the fish inside the hole. "It's a big one." The fish flicked its tail just right, dislodged the hook and dove deep beneath the ice. My date yelled and thrust his arm deep into the freezing water to try to catch it with his hand. Home please. I followed the fish's lead; off the hook and swimming away.

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Board Games by Candlelight

We decided to stay in on Sunday night, play a board game and flirt by candlelight (yeah, energy savings and romance). The problem might be the game; I hardly ever follow the rules as written. While this is no surprise to people who know me, strangers wonder how I play games. At the consignment store, I bought a combination checkers, chess and backgammon game for a quarter. Surprise all the pieces were still intact as was the pristine rule book.

My problem with playing games with new people is that I am an overly competitive person who lives by a mantra ‘what good is playing if not to win’. I know better than scare off my honey by playing by the rules as written. I’d end up clobbering him in retaliation for taking one of my game pieces.

What to do? Rewrite the rules of course. In choosing to live my life in as sustainable way as possible, I know about cooperation. So, we started with backgammon; the dice are the luck of the draw and random chance is acceptable. Placement of the pieces according to the rules is fair and equitable. The possibility of hindering the opponent from moving by either blocking the section or removing pieces occupying a space all alone wouldn’t work for me. This mean singles could be treated with disrespect and shoved aside just for being single.

Perhaps as a game strategy the rule would make the game for interesting and increase competition. As an ethic, the rule allows for profiling and discrimination. We threw out the rule along with the rule of no sharing spaces between the two colors. I thought it discouraged companionship and the new rule was sharing if fine as long as total capacity wasn’t exceeded.

We didn’t ruin the game because we nipped my competitive streak before it could turn into a battle. I lost and I cheered his win because it was almost like I had a share in his victory. Since spending time together, sharing and bonding were the goals, we didn’t get bored with the new rules. And we discovered we work together well.

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Down by the River

The right enviro-friendly person for me is willing to dress up in shabbiest clothes and brave mosquitoes, sun exposure and other people's garbage. The meet up place for the river clean-up project was right on the exercise path to make it easy for those of us who commute more simply whenever possible.

My date and I were provided a bag designated for recyclables (cans, plastic bottles), a pair of work gloves with no-slip grips and two additional bags for trash. We were assigned a section of the riverbank to work as a team of two to clean up debris and detritus.

The reason we signed on was the opportunity to do something positive for the environment together. And from what we picked up we really did help the miniscule area assigned to us. We found so many beverage containers, we had to flag down the support crew for a second recyclable bag and to ask where to put the scrap metal and automobile tires we found dumped near the dam. The most common item we found though was the plastic shopping bag in various forms from shredded and stuck in flood remnants to filled with sand or just carried on the breeze.

The call for volunteers had encouraged kids' groups and others to join for a wholesome activity or educational experience. I'm all for fostering life long volunteering and starting early with environmental awareness, though we saw a few individuals use the event to walk along the path and point out trash without picking it up. I suspect the post-cleanup pizza party had been the major draw.

My date and I agreed, we signed up to work and that meant ruin-our-already-worn-out-clothing hard labor and make a real difference. Just because we volunteered didn't mean we had a right to slack off. Our reward was the pizza (from a local entrepreneur) and natural soda (served in the can to join the other recyclables). We also had a chance to visit with the staff members of the water reclamation district and learn about what our city was doing to conserve and reuse water.

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Sharing Clean Laundry

Why should being single mean I couldn't have the marital bonus of efficient laundry; just tossing our clothes together to make a full load? Environmentally friendly doesn't have to be politically correct.

A laundry date shows compatibility and if it doesn't work out at least clean clothes are gained. I've been teased that sharing laundry is too intimate. I figure if a relationship is going to work, might as well not invest too much energy in figuring out if I want my clothes mixed with his on a more permanent basis. The bonus is knowing for future reference he's capable and willing to share laundry duty.

Spare change is a valuable asset and is best reserved for laundry evening. My honey even makes frugality positive. Pride tinges his voice and he stands up a little straighter when he tells me I am a cheap date. For laundry evening, we pool our resources and shared a washer and dryer. I'm willing to provide the biodegradable detergent.

We share our life histories and dreams for the future while we wait for the load to wash and then dry. We could have been more efficient by hanging our clothes to drip dry. And we do now that our laundry date isn't used as an excuse to spend extra time together.

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Pizza of a Woman's Heart

Instead of dinner at a restaurant, homemade pizza is relatively easy to make and frugal. Using locally sourced ingredients and making it vegetarian add to low environmental impact. A man willing to impress me by making this effort in the kitchen won me over.

I admit to a limited history with men who cook. My father occasionally grilled on a hibachi, but never prepared side dishes. I learned I could eat what he made with a side of pre-sliced bread and love it. When I worked as a chef, the owner cooked for his family almost every evening. Knowing that many of the top chefs were men and many of them also were the primary home cooks didn't register. I believed men in general marry to gain a cook.

This man's willingness to serve a single specialty menu to impress me made him special. He wasn't trying to compete with me; sharing was his goal. One shared moment led to more food samplings. We might not be considered fully compatible, but his strengths complement mine and I am willing to share my private kitchen with him.

For him I'd eat cardboard dipped in olive oil (I guess that would be an ultimate recycling activity). Like all his meals, the thoughts both for the environment and for romance counts more than the skill of preparation and I will admit that my taste buds have an affinity for any food he makes because he adds love as his special ingredient. Plus he's willing to clean up when he's done.

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