Save the funny papers! Save the newspapers. Hell, save the butcher papers. I wonder if there is plastic in the pages of the New Yorker? I can’t keep up with my subscription to New Yorker magazine. I might as well use those unread copies for wrapping.
I was horrified to learn some facts about the shiny, festive wrapping papers and ribbons. Kate Bratskeir of Huffington Post shed the light when she wrote:
It’s Officially Time To Ban Gift-Wrapping Paper
No amount of say it isn’t so will change it. Soooo, I will have to change—and maybe you, too, dear reader. It’s time, officially, if you are a HuffPost fan, as I am. I didn’t know about the thin layer of plastic coating the inside of wrapping paper rendering it unrecyclable. Same with the filaments in the metallic designs. Ooohhh, I love the shiny things. But. I will have to get my shiny fix elsewhere from now on.
I am thrilled to know that some of my readers actually pay attention and take action! After reading The Austerity Program, my beautiful and talented goddaughter, Marisa, got me the perfect Christmas gift—reusable waxed cotton food wraps to replace plastic wrap. I’m thrilled!
In case you missed it: https://caroleconnolly.wordpress.com/2018/12/22/the-austerity-program/
I promise to get off my soapbox. The other day I was at Capitola Produce buying broccoli. I needed five pounds to make the world-famous broccoli ring for Christmas dinner. I grabbed half-a-dozen beautiful crowns that looked to be about the right amount and scanned the store for the hanging scale that I had seen there on previous visits. As my head bobbed in every direction looking for it, the only other shopper in the store at the time tore a plastic bag from the roller, smiled, and thrust it in my direction.
“Here you go,” she bubbled. “Looking for a plastic bag?”
“No! I’m against them! They’re killing our birds and fish,” I said a bit too sharply. “Didn’t you see the 60 Minutes segment? It’s just awful.”
The smile vanished from her face as she backed away slowly and I realized I had ambushed her as she was trying to do something nice. I might as well have been wearing a sandwich board reading, Repent! The End is Near. I caught myself, smoothed my ruffled feathers, and started to apologize but the nice lady had already skedaddled and was frantically throwing cash on the checkout counter as the cashier weighed her plastic-bagged carrots.
I tossed my five pounds of broccoli into my reusable canvas bag and vowed to button my lip in the future and just quietly lead by example, not spew fevered rants at unsuspecting strangers.
New Year’s Resolution? No, not lose ten pounds (which I vow every year), but to be mindful and raise consciousness about the plastic problem. Please join me.
Happy New Year!