Sleepless in the Skiphaus

Well, actually one of us is sleeping, finally. But he doesn't do it very often, which is part of why the blogging has been so thin lately. Also the Venerable Fork returned for a bit, and there was also a very large feast, with special guest star: the future Mrs. Lt. But now we've reached the time of year when other Christmas trees are up, and ours isn't. Mostly because we don't have one. For stationary objects, they are surprisingly difficult to hunt down. There are, of course, trees everywhere, but we need the right tree, and we need to find it with a minimum of searching. Husband has an extremely low tolerance for the hunt, which is yet another example of his poor Native Americanness. I can just imagine his distant ancestor, fifteen minutes into the buffalo hunt: "Look, its cold out here, and if we found a buffalo we'd just have to drag it all the way back to the camp anyway. Lets just grab a few squirrels and call it a day." If his ancient Native forefathers were anything like him, marrying up with the new colonists was a very wise decision. I, on the other hand, make up for it by over-analyzing everything. For example, I know that hard-core environmentalists prefer us all to decorate existing outdoor trees, preferably with home-made, organic ornaments that the local wildlife can enjoy. If we must obtain indoor foliage, we should do so from small, local farms and then compost the tree carcass after the holidays. Artificial trees are out because they'll eventually land in a landfill, with all their evil synthetic materials, mocking natural wildlife for all eternity.

I personally subscribe to the diet coke theory of environmentalism, just like those women that order double bacon cheeseburgers, with a diet coke. I recycle, compost, and use cloth diapers and wipes on my child, which erases the bad karma of things like artificial trees and the fact that I wear lots of cotton (the most pesticide-laden crop in the world) and drink lots of coffee (#2. Or vice versa, but you get the idea.) Besides, vacuuming all the fallen needles from y local, organic tree, plus the fuel I use driving to and from the farm and the community tree-recycle-locale every single year will eventually offset the one artificial tree. Just like the amount of energy I spend washing cloth diapers and wipes takes something away from the hyper-greenness of the diapers and wipes themselves. Besides, according to that commercial, landfills become the basis for wetlands and baseball fields, so really, future generations of crane should thank today's artificial tree discarders. The green movement hasn't convinced me yet: for every green action there seem to be a pile of non-green activities that occur. But I like the way things are going: I can now carry re-useable bags without looking like a refugee from a commune, and even Walmart sells organic stuff. So right on, green people.

See, this is the answer. If you yell at me for eating meat, and preach the benefits of organics, I'm heading out for a Twinkie. If you calmly give e a few options, I'll get a bit greener. But I'm never voting Gore.