I have one of those awful winter colds that just grabs on and doesn’t let go. On the one hand, I’m not all that sick; on the other hand, I’m just sick enough to feel really gross and exhausted and miserable.

And because I’m doped up on cold medicine and also because I have probably just single-handedly destroyed an acre of rainforest this week, I’m going to come clean on something I’ve been thinking about a lot: I like Kleenex. Not the brand, necessarily; tissues. Disposable tissues. I like them. I know that it would be more eco-friendly to use washable handkerchiefs, and I don’t care. Because disposing of the stuff that comes out of my nose rather than having to figure out which combination of non-toxic cleaners best decimates boogers is not high on my list of priorities.

There, I said it. I mean, really. Maybe it makes me a bad person, but I think I can live with that. My husband had this cold, too, and even though he actually owns handkerchiefs (I bought him a nice monogrammed set when we got married), he’s using tissues, too. I’m sure he thinks I’ll yell at him if gets snot on his nice Irish linen.

I promise to plant a tree, or something, to compensate, but I don’t think I can back down on this one. (Forgive me, Lola!)

The house I currently live in doesn’t have a basement; that still seems weird, to me, but it’s not uncommon “down south,” probably owing to how hard the soil is. And in a house without a basement, you have a lot of closets. Lots. They’re the main storage area for things which cannot withstand the temperature fluctuations of your average southern attic. (It tends to get a little roasty-toasty up there.)

All of this is to explain why I have a closet that contains all the ghosts of my past. I didn’t intend for this to happen, but somehow it did. And I think I’m finally ready to move on.

The closet in question contains four defunct computers. One doesn’t work at all, one works on alternate Tuesdays when the moon is full and the plug is perfectly still, and the other two work but have been replaced. All of them need to be recycled, and until today I wasn’t sure how to do that. But this week’s iddy biddy step for me is going to be properly disposing of these extra computers.

Between the EPA’s page on eCycling and TechSoup’s 10 Tips for Donating a Computer, I think I’m ready to clean house. I’m looking forward to having an empty closet and a clean conscience.

Do you have an old computer (or two, or more) in need of responsible recycling? Check out those links, and resolve to take care of it this week!

I was surfing around the other day and came across what may be either the most brilliant or the tackiest grab-the-current-trend marketing ploy I’ve ever seen. I’m really not sure which it is, yet.

Green Light Flix starts off their mission statement by saying that they aim “To raise funds to produce feature films and video productions that entertain and educate people while promoting stories that showcase the best humanity has to offer.” To that end, they have issued a call to all vegetarians, vegans, and other “treehuggers” and environmentalists to join them and make the dream of financing eco-friendly feature films and educational videos a reality… by donating as little as a dollar.

On the one hand, I think their mission is admirable. In this country, the “of the people, by the people, for the people” model certainly feels doable in many ways. And I think that the idea is intriguing, that people united with common concerns can change the way entertainment is produced.

On the other hand, entertainment is a multi-billion-dollar industry in this country, and while the motivation here is good, I wonder what will end up being produced (and if anyone will want to watch it). I’m taking steps to get greener, sure, but I also do love the occasional big-budget blockbuster.

What do you think—brilliant or gimmicky? A new model for entertainment or flash in the pan?

… that is the question. I thought that once I got past my craving for fresh tomatoes I’d have a few more months before being taken over by urge to grow our own food. This happens every winter, and I’m pretty good at dealing with it, most of the time.

But then my husband came home from Ye Olde Giant Home Improvement Store and told me that they have blueberry plants out. It seems impossibly early, but I live in the south, and what little winter we have will be a distant memory by the end of March. So I started thinking about blueberries. Fresh, plump blueberries… full of anti-oxidants and delicious sun-ripened flavor. Man, wouldn’t those be delicious in the summer? (Not this summer, because if I plant now we probably won’t have fruit until next year. But next summer.) I could almost taste them.

And then I remembered the strawberries I grew last year out on the deck. I figured that they’d be safe from deer and rabbits, that way. I was being really clever about it, I was sure. And the strawberries were beautiful! I bet they were delicious, too. Of course, I don’t know for sure, because the squirrels ate every last one of them.

Blueberry plants would need to go into the actual ground, where I could take special care of them so that the deer, rabbits, squirrels and birds could eat all the berries and I end up like one of those cartoon characters with smoke coming out of my ears. Hmmmm.

There’s got to be a way to stay green without just fattening up the local wildlife. Help?

I really thought I was doing well with my family’s diet, already, in terms of both health benefits and our carbon footprint. We eat a lot of beans—which are more healthful than the meat they’re replacing (hello, superfoods! —and of course I recycle the cans they come in, afterward.

First I became concerned about the beans we were eating not being organic, so I switched to buying the organic kind. But then the organic cans were labeled as being packed in China, and suddenly my carbon footprint was looking an awful lot like a polluted superhighway. Did we really need beans imported from so far away?

And then I discovered that dried beans aren’t as scary as I thought. It’s true, I was afraid of dried beans. I figured they were hard to prepare, or took too long. Then a very wise woman showed me how to prepare them in the crock pot and freeze them for later use in all the things I used to used canned beans for.

The dried beans are cheaper, take up less room in my pantry, don’t involve cans, contain only whatever I’ve chosen to add to them, and I’m pretty sure they’re not from halfway across the world. And now that I’ve figured out how easy black beans (our big staple) are to make, I’ve branched out to other varieties, too. (My family may or may not thank me for that. We’ll see.) Best of all, what I feared was going to be a major undertaking turned out to be totally easy.

Anyone who knows me knows that I love to shop. I hate saying it like that; it’s such a stereotypical girl thing to say, and I fear it brings a Clueless or Legally Blond sort of image to mind. It’s not so much that I like to shop as that I enjoy bargain-hunting, and not so much that I like to have stuff as that I delight in finding the things my family needs for less money.

(Apparently I also enjoy wordy justifications. Moving on….)

Anyway, I’ve been a consignment shopper for years. I don’t always have the time (or mental fortitude) to endure yard sales, but I’ve always loved consignment stores and thrift shops as places to find treasures on the cheap. I was all about saving money, yet still being able to outfit two rapidly growing children (and myself) in clothes without having to fork over wads of cash.

But, see, when my kids were babies, that was considered being a cheapskate or frugal or thrifty. Nowadays? Shopping these places is considered dedicated recycling! I’m being green, eco-friendly, and environmentally conscious! I’m reusing and reducing consumption of resources and I’m hip.

Whatever. I’ll happily be green this way if it occasionally means finding a brand-new cashmere sweater for $4. (True story!) If you don’t already shop secondhand, consider it—sometimes those iddy biddy green steps can have some very nice side benefits.

As big of a fan as I am of books, I’m not much of a how-to book sort of person. I believe in doing, not in reading about doing. And I’m particularly wary of books about how to get your kids to do anything, because heaven knows that if getting children to do anything was as simple as following instructions, there would be a lot more well-behaved children in this world. And in my house. Ahem.

Anyway, that said: I absolutely love this book, You Can Save the Planet: 50 Ways You Can Make a Difference. It’s a little paperback. It has both text and wacky little drawings, and it has great information in kid-sized bites.

But more importantly, my kids ate it up and promptly started lecturing me about things they thought might be eco-violations. This is a book that says the things your kids refuse to hear from you, because you’re also the person who foolishly believes they should remember to put their dirty socks in the hamper and eat their vegetables without complaining.

It’s from Scholastic. It’s $4.99. It just may get your kids excited about going green. What’s not to love?

The holidays have come and gone; we’ve vacationed, returned, and packed away all of the Christmas decor; and like clockwork, the cravings have begun.

Look, I’ve used “local and in-season” as my mantra at the grocery store for years. The passage of recent country of origin labeling legislation has only served to reinforce what I’ve been trying to do already: Reduce our family’s carbon footprint (not to mention our grocery bill) by buying produce in-season and locally-grown.

Don’t get me wrong, because—despite my good intentions—I break my own rules every single week. And I can tell you why in a single word: Bananas. They’re not exactly local, I know. With a banana-loving family and the price so affordable, I do continue to buy them even though I know I shouldn’t. (But as soon as I figure out how to grow bananas in my backyard, let’s talk….)

January brings with it a new year and my insatiable craving for fresh tomatoes. (Perhaps I have scurvy.) Carbon footprint or no, I’m not paying $3 for a single, tasteless tomato… so I wait. And occasionally—guiltily—buy a pint of grape tomatoes. And I’m dreaming about my garden, this year, and all the things I want to plant.

By April I’ll be planning three or four acres of produce. And then I’ll come back down to earth. But I swear to you nothing says summer like that first tomato plucked off the vine.