thinking about Earth Day - slowly

When Earth Day falls on, say, a school holiday, it's the kind of coincidence that makes a mama look good. Having crawled out of my detail-lined Passover-planning burrow long enough to notice that I'm now home with both boys, I did what any self-respecting mother would do: panicked. But then it was Earth Day, and I did what any self-respecting flower child would do (not that I am one, but I did turn up to the accountant's with my 'I Love the Earth' t-shirt on, and she said things like 'ah, so you are the flower child who balances out your husband's bean couting, then?' I ummed, but couldn't quite argue) and: talked eco-responsibility.

We started small, with crafts. I cut out a few big, lopsided circles, and we drew and glued and painted our planet. The Eldest added a big pink rocket that looked suspiciously like a fish. Occasionally, it looked like a fish about to eat the Earth, when he positioned the thing just right. Eep. But not very.

Then, we watered the newly-planted herbs on our teensy deck. Like so.

The herbs are my annual save-money, grow it myself device. For a mere $2.79 a pot (okay, so I cheat and don't start seeds) I'll end up with herbs all spring and summer. Heh. But for the boys, I turned it into talking about growing your own and buying locally. Mostly, they focussed on the dumping water on the dirt part, until they realized that their water bottles could reach to make dark water spots on the neighbor's shed. Eco-lecture over, folks. Time to play.

We later redeemed ourselves (and the neighbor didn't notice - or mind - the wet shed) a bit, with the family 'reduce, reuse, recycle' meeting. We talked about ways we'd improved (a brown paper bag to catch recycling in my little study, reuseable shopping bags) and ways we could improve (turning off excess lights, electric devices, shabbat clocks, using the clothesline). Ah, yes. The clothesline.

I like to use the clothesline once the weather gets warm, and it really does make the laundry smell nice (though my towels come out stiff and uncomfortable). Plus, it's nice how cloth diapers bleach a bit in the sun (although why I care about the aesthetics of a bit of cloth going against the kid's bum is a little hard to explain).

Looking at my clothesline, I had a thought: it's slow. I can fit about two loads of laundry onto the three clotheslines strung over the railing of our deck. And on a warmish day, I can refill them maybe twice. In that time, I could have dried more than that, using the machine. And it takes a lot longer to peg everything out on the line than it does to shove the stuff into the machine. So, being ecologically responsible means moving more slowly?

It does seem to. Consider the options: walk rather than drive (takes longer), avoid disposable plates/napkins/cutlery (now you have to do dishes: takes longer), cloth rather than disposable diapers (laundry time! see above), buy locally grown foods (finding them = farmer's market, not Buy It All Here superstore = takes longer), etc, etc, etc. Add it all up, and eco-responsibility (which is starting to look more like Plain Good Sense than eco-anything) seems to mean SLOW DOWN.

Eh, whatnow? I'm a nice Jewish girl from New Yahk, and we don't do that. Worse, I'm a nice overeducated Jewish girl who should be more brain than balabusta, and I really don't do that. Got places to go, people to talk to, As to add to my already type double-A personality. Slow down, my too-busy Auntie Fanny.

Ahem. Moving on, now.

I've been thinking about the things that I enjoy. Cooking (time), gardening (time), reading (time), writing (work, but also pleasure - and yes, time), and of course my Man-love (time), and my recklessly water-spraying children (a huge lot of time, just now with muddy hands). My greatest pleasures seem to ripen, to be slow and nothing at all Insta-Happy. I think also about my father, a workaholic who once warned me to have an exit strategy to motherhood. Don't let yourself be just a mom, he warned me, or you'll get so wrapped up in your children that you won't be able to let go. I considered this advice, and started running to keep up, to get ahead, to think about the next degree, the next career move. And then I considered my workaholic father, so busy flying around the world that he complains about not having time for his grandchildren. Sometimes, you have to stop. Sometimes, you have to let youself be just a mom, so that you can focus on it and do it right. To be slow enough to live the life that you love, rather than scrambling to keep up with it. Jeez, I wish I were better at that. Still, this idea rings true to me and my endless To Do lists.

So, then, SLOW DOWN.

It's the message that we've settled on for Earth Day around here. It seems to suit us, to make sense and to be a reminder to allow ourselves to live the life that will give us the most joys, and the most satisfaction. It's a good message, I think. Not to mention one that best increases our chances of losing the gerbil in the round exercise ball feeling.
****************************

Here's a worrying thought: I went to Blogdigger and typed in 'tier drug,' to see what kinds of reactions there have been to the rolling out of tier 4 and 5 drug copays. The second article was my blog post, and the bloggish silence was deafening. Similar results for 'Wellpoint Anthem.' Sigh.

considering options - and tiers

This article, "Co-Payments Go Way Up for Drugs With High Prices" turned up in my inbox, and scared the bejaysus out of me.

Not to mention freaking out any number of people with hemophilia, parents of people with hemophilia - and I'm sure the folks with von Willebrands weren't singing O Happy Day, neither. Nor the folks with MS, funky cancers, or anything else potentially treated with a tier 4 or tier 5 class drug.

I sent a worried email off to the National Hemophilia Foundation, who said...nothing. I sent a worried email off to my local NHF chapter, who told me (within the hour) that not only were they working on it, they were more immediately worried by Blue Cross-Anthem's single pharmacy plan, which is inexorably working it's way across the country. I agreed. I was worried, too.

Oh, the details of this plan are simple: Blue Cross/Anthem/Wellpoint makes an exclusive deal with a pharmacy whom they own, that all of their bleeding disorder folks will use this pharmacy. Want home care nurses? you only get it if the pharma folks offer it. They don't? Too bad, use the ER, even if it's just the get the kid looked over, or a follow-up infusion. Want to preserve your lifetime cap? Well, so much for shopping around to get the lowest drug prices - you get one home care, and whatever they charge, they charge. Consider this: higher drug prices, the higher costs of ER care vs home nursing care - all of this fills up the lifetime cap and gets the person with bleeding disorders off the books faster. And no, I wish I were paranoid.

Thinking about the NYTimes article (and saddened and intrigued by some of the blogospheric responses), I went to fill a prescription at our local pharmacist. Now, we use a local independant (family-run) pharmacy for most of our 'scripts, and I know they are a luxury - our pharmacy plan makes us pay a couple of bucks extra per prescription to use them, as opposed to mail-order. But once, when the Eldest was diagnosed with two different class of antibiotic allergies, these pharmacists printed out a list of drugs from those classes and handed them to the Man. And we happened to recognize a drug off the list that an intern tried to prescribe for the Eldest, not two weeks later. And prevented a rather horrific repeat of an initially horrific reaction. (Allergen pushed directly into the heart = bad, bad news.) Since then, they've made a special point of looking out for us, helping us find corn-free medications for the Toddles, help with horrific eczema for the Eldest. Oh, yes, they are a luxury. But we don't get this kind of help at CVS.

When I paid for my prescription, I mentioned the NYTimes article to the pharmacist. Oh, yes, he said, that's been written up in pharmacy journals for ages. The insurance company's been paving the way for this for a long time, starting by getting folks used to the idea of tier 1 and tier 2 drugs, and then moving on to a tier 3...and now this. It's been coming for a long time, he said. It means that now, instead of everyone paying and spreading the costs around, now it'll cost you more to be sick. I raised an eyebrow. Yep, he said, next is buying a special tier 4 or tier 5 drug coverage - assuming you can afford it. I thought about this. According to many blog commentators, me being able to afford it is just a matter of me giving up a latte at Starbucks, or eating beans and rice a couple of times a week. But we already do that. So now what?

I walked out, thoughtful and worried. Insurance is failing. If the patience inherent in the tiered drug plan is any guide, health insurance has been failing for some time. So, now what happens? Because a 20-33% copay on the Eldest's hemophilia meds will bankrupt us, and quickly. And is this really what the government wants to see happen to nice, middle class folks who work hard? Or maybe the point is, is the government willing to do something to protect us? Somehow, a scared, cynical voice says, I don't think so.

Still, says a hopeful and equally scared voice, it's Passover. Could this, too, be a plague that terrifies and yet passes us by? Somehow, I suspect it will - but only if there's some sensible and vocal protest from the Israelites involved. I'll be calling the local chapter's advocacy group and volunteering to go and talk to legislators. Hopefully, someone will listen.

There's blood on my doorposts, people, and it don't clot. So don't y'all go buggin' us!
********************************
One of the side effects of reconstructing my pantry for Pesach is that I buy a lot of groceries. Which means that for once, I actually don't have enough reuseable bags. (Note: eco-whatever you like, but reuseable bags means no plastic inhaled-choking hazard shopping bags. Also, reuseable bags hold more groceries per bag, and when you are trying to get seven shopping bags plus two kids (read: five kid-shaped objects. somehow.) up the stairs into your apartment, trading seven lighter bags for three heavier bags is just fine by me. So.)

So, plastic shopping bags accumulate in our apartment, and now what? Well, we reuse them slowly, as car garbage bags, unexpected poopy diaper bags, wet togs bags, etc - but then there's this rather kickass option. A hat tip to Girl Bleeder for this one!

dead or alive? Depends.

This is mostly a post of assembled bits of thought that have popped up or arrived in my inbox over the weekend:

First, this: in this post, I note that Hain Celestial seems to be everywhere, and that the customer service folks who respond to me about food allergies and ingredients (Hain has lousy allergy labelling practices) all seem somehow similar... Well, they are. See here for helpful diagrams. Big Organic (to quote Michael Pollan), indeed.

Knowing who makes your food is important, as Pollan points out in his book, The Omnivore's Dilemma. Knowing how is also important, he says. But when can you trust them? When they're on the phone? My experience with the various Hain-owned companies has been less than enthusiastic. What about labels? These days, it seems as if everybody is putting 'may contain X' warning labels on, or obviously not putting them on, leading you to wonder...are they trustworthy? When do you trust - the people who admit to manufacturing peanuts somewhere, somehow - or companies like Tofutti, who clearly do process nuts and peanut products, but keep mum about it? The Washington Post has a suggestion: "tested 179 products that bore a variety of accidental-peanut warnings, and found 7 percent did contain peanuts _ some of them traces, but some enough to seriously sicken." Sigh. Back to square one: don't buy from those who are responsible enough to label, don't buy from those who are irresponsible enough to not label. Dang.
P.S. It's a good book. Read it.

Also, ever wonder about lead in your soil? Funky somethings in your water? The Wall Street Journal offered these sites: from the government, there's this, searchable by zip code. My zip code looks a little nerve-rattling, actually. I next looked here, and found that my county is, apparently, quite filthy. The scorecard.org people sneer at my county. They pity the poor souls who live here, and drink the water. So why on earth are housing prices so high? Bah, humbug - I shake my fist impotently and stomp my foot.

Who trusts Fox News anymore? Not me - but this appeared in a couple of different places, of which Fox is one. Sigh. The things we do in our insistence on perfection, the ways we seek revenge - it all makes me sad. So the lives of the children, the individuals are taking second place to revenge? There's nothing but pain here, people. At the same time, consider this case - take vengeance out of it, and you have a certain pragmatism: how are they going to be able to support this child?

Our society barely appreciates the mothers of the healthy children, while mothers of the more demanding kidlets simply have to run harder to keep up. Okay, so parenting these kids, parenting any kids isn't valued - in cash money, at least - by society. What I do (because you knew I was going to talk about ME, no?) is a luxury. Um, except not. Except yes, and the Man and I are honest about this: my ability to provide a safe home, to go to schools and advocate for our kids, help make classrooms friendly to our boys, prepare a balanced diet while walking our immunological tightrope, go to doctors' visits and oh yeah, do the laundry, is a luxury. Don't kid a Mama, people, this is the life. Putting it that way, I can understand the lawsuit. I can even respect the pain driving it. But I can't get around the damage being done to anyone who might grow up cognitively able to process the bare facts: their parents went to court to punish people for their children's lives.

with apologies to Mr. Pratchett..

It should not surprise me that my house is full of numbers. After all, consider the source...

Right now, the Eldest is happily counting to 200 by ones (a process long enough to wear down even the strongest feeling of maternal pride. SEV'NTY ONE! SEV'NTY TWO! SEVN'TY THREE! Sigh.) and to 100 by tens, a far kinder approach. I love this, partly because my feeling is that the more flexible he sees numbers to be, the more he realizes that they are made of bits and parts, like words, the more approachable they will be for him. Or so I fondly hope.

Meanwhile, however, the Toddles decided to join the fun. Naturally, we have numerical flashcards in the house (how not? I remind you to consider the source..), and the Toddles likes them. Today, however, he surprised me.

Toddles (holds up card): EYT!
card reads: 72
Me: oh, that's nice, sweetie.
Toddles (holds up card): NYNE!
card reads: 20
Me (lifting head sharply from coffee cup): Hunh?

Yes. Eight and nine. Does he understand the words? No. But he certainly has heard the progression often enough to be able to parrot them to me. Nor is this the first time. And in case I'd missed the point, the Man showed me dancing columns of numbers tonight, the product of a year's dreams and hopes for his bonus check, now pinned and slender on a page.

Clearly, numbers are now the Imperfect sub-dialect, and I invite you all to come and chat with the natives. But not me, thanks, I'm obviously a transplant into this environment...
***************************
Here's a different number: http://www.myfootprint.org/ I apparently require 11 acres. How many do you need to sustain your lifestyle?

I'm wondering if a sub-grouping should be made for families with young children. Certainly I found the urge to use disposable baggies, containers, paper towels shot right up when the boys arrived - not to mention diapers! That's a hefty ecological footprint right there.

It's funny, but part of me says that I should feel smug that I'm a rag-using, mostly cloth diapering, organic veg buying mama. Instead, I can hear my mother laughing. Yup, my mom, who early on suggested rags, cloth diapers and babywearing (aka wraps and mei tais), to my horror, not to mention doulas and homemade cleaners. She now sees me doing all of that plus the organic stuff (insofar as the horrified Keeper O the Budget will allow). Giggle away, Mum - you've earned this one.

I certainly didn't see it coming. So when things like this sneak up on you, do you get to be smug or quietly shocked by the person you've become?

Just do me a favor, folks, and on the day that I buy washable pads for myself or, heaven help us, a Diva cup, please sit me down and do a full neuro exam. 'Kay?
****************************
And some annoying news: Could Cookie Monster be renamed? I send you here for the news:
Veggies vs Cookies. Nah. Couldn't be.
shocking.

of games and families

As some of you know, the Eldest loves games. Board games, card games, sports, puzzles. An especial favorite of his is Monopoly.

Some of you may also know that my family is Australian. We came to the US of A when I was a little tyke, leaving behind a small tribe - no, check that, a large, teeming horde - of family. The Eldest has been to visit this horde (it's a friendly horde) twice now, the Man only once.

These two bits of information fit together here: Hasbro is creating an Australian Monopoly, and is letting people vote for which state should be in the navy blue slots (Boardwalk, Park). Hint: my family is from Melbourne...now, go vote!
*****************************

On the subject of Australia, I'm enjoying a fellow Aussie's blog. Jason Graham-Nye is the co-founder, together with his wife, of gDiapers. I've added a link to his blog to my list of things I read. It's a nice mix of entrepeneurism, daddy blog, environmentalism and okay, possibly a wee bit of PR for his product. Which I'm unabashedly happy with. You should see the Toddles' tush in the hawaiian print!

The gDiapers are working out beautifully with us. At home, we switch off between g-flushable inserts and cloth ones, depending on how the laundry's going. Easy, peasy. And yes, when we're out and about we commit the eco-sin of disposable diapers, but what the hey. Taken all together, it works, and it works in style...literally! Happy, happy am I.
*****************************

Today, we did some more NAET testing and treatment. The Eldest is not reactive to the egg mix, vit C, vit B or calcium mixes, but was reactive to the sugar mix. Huh. Well, the stuff does affect him, though I wouldn't call it an allergic reaction! Having been treated, NAET-style, for sugar sensitivity, he is now off sugar for 25 hours. So, no fruit, no honey, no sugars of any kind (there goes cereals), no sweetened soy milk (he won't touch the other kind), etc, etc, etc. Oy.

The Toddles sailed through the egg mixture, having already been treated for it, and was negative to the calcium and vit C mixes. He was, however, sensitive to the vitamin B mix - something that shows up in a lot of whole grains. So, no whole grains for him for 25 hours, no fruits, no veggies (except cauliflower), no dairy....oy. Again.

Given my rule of everybody eats one dinner, this was a challenge. So, then, here's what we had for dinner:

Pasta Alla Prima
serves 6

1 lb soybean/rice pasta
1 bunch spinach
4 large cloves garlic
olive oil
1 can tuna (avoiding those in vegetable broth, thanks to a tip from W)
Greek black olives
1/5 English cucumber, sliced.

sauce:
3 cloves garlic
1 tsp salt
2 sprigs fresh dill
1/4 cup rice vinegar
1/2 cup olive oil
Blend in food processor until frothy.

meanwhile, cook pasta in lots of water. Do not overcook! No matter what the package says, gluten free pastas are ruthless about their cooking times.

When pasta is done, saute garlic and tuna in pan with olive oil. When garlic is browned a bit, toss in spinach leaves, turn off heat and stir until spinach is just barely wilted and bright green. Immediately, toss all together (pasta, sauce, tuna mixture, olives, cucumber) and serve. Watch small people go back for enthusiastic thirds.

come, let us discuss them

o come let us discuss them
o come let us discuss them
the baby's butt.

Yup, we're back to diapers. Poop, pee and the disposal thereof. And apparently my brain is still playing Christmas music. Huh. But before we talk tushie, a little Torah.

Tonight we ate felafel. To be fair, it was tofu-based, rather than chickpea (those pesky legume allergies, dontcha know), but the Toddles had four. The Eldest ate five? six? The combined beautifully with a classic Israeli salad and curried celery soup. But more on that later.

We talked about felafel and Israel, and building your own felafel with the felafel, pita, lettuce, cubed cucumber and impossibly sweet tomatoes, pickles and french fries. And tehini. Oh, and amba, a sort of pickled mango sauce. Ahhh. Perfection.

Thinking of Israel reminded the Eldest that he wanted the Man to tell us the parshat ha-shavua, or weekly Torah portion. We obligingly thumped our fists on the table, chanting parsha, parsha, parsha (even the Toddles banged his little fist) until the Man got up and went to the prop box.

Stuffed animals in hand, he enacted for us this week's narrative: the death of Joseph. The Eldest listened politely, and then asked him for next week's parsha. The Man huffed and puffed a bit, but eventually went off and reconfigured himself for the next narrative: Moses in the basket.

An evil emperor penguin paced before us, thinking up ways to be nasty to those irritating Israelites. He was so evil, we were told, that he never took baths. (gasp) He commanded: all Jews must throw their baby boys in the river!

One mama tiger demurred. For this I had nine months of pregnancy and 27 hours of back labor? Not so very much. And so she laid the baby tiger in a basket. A tall doll with dreads and high heeled boots saw the baby tiger, and pulled him out of the basket. Oh, he's so sweet. I love him, I love him, I love him! But who will give him nai-nais (breastfeed him)? Hastily, a rather familiar tiger stepped forwards. I will, she offered.

High Heels looked down at the tiger. Way down. Hmm. She adjusted her dreads. There's an odd resemblance. Do you know this baby?

Oooh, no, the tiger promised. Never met him before in my life.

And they were off and running. And we were laughing so hard my sides hurt.
******************************************
And now, the tushies.
With a little help from M.i.I., we've been tiptoeing into cloth diaper territory. The Man is not tremendously pleased by either the gDiaper ('it sits around until I flush it') or the cloth ('eeeww'), but as always, is patient with my latest madness.

Into the gDiaper pants, then, we've put: the flushable g-insert, hemp liners, Indian prefolds, and I'm eyeing this super absorbent item for the next experiment, but am worried that we'd wash them wrong and ruin them. Our track record on such things is fairly consistent, alas, as proven by the death of my fabulous unsoakable breast pads. We do not sort our laundry, beyond the simple color/whites. Our conclusions thus far:

the g-inserts are lovely. They do scrunch up a bit when saturated, so you need to change the kiddo somewhat regularly. But if they scrunch, you just rinse or toss the little liner into the wash.

the hemp are only so-so absorbent. To be fair, we're spoiled rotten by our disposables, which are good for 4+ daytime hours, plus a full night. Paired, the hemp work wonderfully, and I'm amused by the hot pink color they turned in the wash, courtesy of the Eldest's Red Shirt of Doom (the dye on the shirt reliably leaks a bit). I got our hemp inserts from Punkin Butt (great name!), but Jardine Diapers recommends these, instead. Apparently the combination of hemp and cotton makes a difference. Why?

the Indian prefolds are way big for the medium sized g-pants, so I've folded them over, creating a bit of extra fabric in the water-shooter area. I'm worried the g-pants won't fit well with the prefolds, but we shall see.
Okay, so they fit - but it's tight. Still, they absorb nicely and are really soft. A winner for me, though I think they'll force us into a bigger g-size sooner than we'd otherwise go, alas.

And now, food!

****************************************
Curried Celery Soup
adapted from from Vegetarian, by Linda Fraser. Pg 32, serves 4-6
Note: not a huge celery fan, I was surprised by how mildly celery-like this soup is, and how popular it is around here. And I love the versatility!

2 Tb olive oil (less if you have a nonstick pot)
1 onion chopped
1 leek, washed! and chopped (or another large, chopped onion)
1.5 lb celery, chopped (can use celeriac, instead)
1 TB medium/mild curry powder, less if hot curry powder
8 oz potatoes, diced (can use sweet potatoes, or mix regular and sweet potatoes, or mix potatoes and white/soy beans, for extra protein)
3.75 cups vegetable stock, or water
salt, pepper
2 bay leaves
light sprinkling of thyme
2 TB chopped fresh herbs, such as dill (and the celery leaves)
Optional: a fistful of sausage, chopped to avoid choking hazards for little throats.

In a large saucepan, heat oil. Saute onion (and sausage, if using) until browning nicely, then add celery. Stirring occasionally, saute for 8-10 minutes.
Add curry powder and cook for 2 minutes, stirring occasionally.
Add potatoes, stock, bay and thyme. Bring to a boil. Simmer for 20 minutes, or until vegetables are tender.
Let cool slightly, then puree soup. Add fresh herbs and reheat to serve.
Watch small children ask for thirds. Try not to look too astonished.
****************************************
Ypoons' Tofu Felafel (slightly adapted)

12 oz firm tofu, drained (press briefly if you have the chance)
1/2 tsp sea salt
2 tsp ground coriander
1 tsp ground cumin
1/4 tsp freshly ground black pepper
1/2 tsp paprika
1 pinch cinnamon
2 cloves garlic, pressed
1 TB finely chopped fresh parsley
2 TB flaxmeal

In a large bowl, have a young child squish the tofu until it's crumbled. Mis in all spices and flaxmeal, stirring well.

Shape into circles or ovals with approx a TB of mix, squeezing gently to remove excess fluid. Heat a griddle or heavy frying pan, with about 1/4 inch oil.

With medium-high heat, fry each felafel until crispy on each side. Should take approx 4 minutes per side. Let drain on paper towels.

Serves 3-4 happy eaters.

Note: the felafel are greasy, so balance them with something crisp and light. We combined this with an Israeli salad of cubed tomato, cucumber and mixed them with sliced green olives and a little lemon juice.

****************************************

gDiapers: day one

I recently bought a gDiaper starter kit ($22.95), after discovering corn in Huggies and the Especially for Baby diapers. And after wrestling a bit with Pampers and Luvs to get the information I needed, and thereby feeling a bit uncertain as to how far I could trust the information I did get.

My conclusions were that the safest diapers on the market are also the crunchiest ones: 7th Generation and gDiapers. Both companies are excellent communicators, both eco-conscious, both more expensive than cheapo diapers. And, of course, there is cloth. So I bought the gDiaper kit and stared at it uneasily for a while. Here is the start of a series about our trial:

Well, we've made it through our first gDiaper night, without the second liner they recommend. This was not, mind you, a deliberate move, just me diapering the kid and sending him off to bed before I read the 'night time tips' section on the website. Whoops.

Kept waking up, alert for a whiff of ammonia. None. Given the enthusiasm with which the Toddles nurses at night (minimum one feed plus 1-2 marathons), I would have expected a wet baby and a wet bed. Nope.

So far so good during the day, flushing is easy, and the only challenge is keeping a diaper or two lined and ready to go. I can see now why they give an extra little nylon layer, since once you've used the little pants once or twice, they smell a bit of pee. But, rinse the little layer and let it dry (snapping in the extra), and you are all set.

Still, it's extra steps: flushing the liner, rinsing the swirling stick, rinsing and replacing the nylon layering bit. Will it become second thought? I hope so - the idea of not having a diaper spend 600 years in a landfill for my convenience is a hefty thought.

And, of course, the Eldest has just learned about recycling and landfills, and young sponge that he is, he is fascinatedly watching over my diaper-changing shoulder. Learning exactly how far his parents think one should go to preserve our planet, how much trouble the planet is worth.

Oh, dear. And all I wanted was to avoid corn!

Next up: the first poop.