Wrapping paper alternative (how to design a kick-butt Treasure Hunt)

Americans generate about 2 pounds of gift wrapping waste per year.  Compared to other kinds of waste, this amount doesn't loom large, but it's also an easy target for reduction because we only exchange gifts every-so-often, and so changing our approach can be more focused.  Avoiding wrapping paper is a lot easier than figuring out how to, say, buy food without plastic packaging.

Why bother worrying about wrapping waste?  And why am I writing about wrapping "paper" during Plastic-Free July?  It's because wrapping paper has so much plastic in it (even though it's called "paper") that our local recycling center won't take it.  (See 

• https://www.recyclenow.com/what-to-do-with/wrapping-paper-1 or 
• https://naparecycling.com/guide/wrapping-paper/ or 
• https://thewoodlandstownshipblog-environment.com/2019/12/05/eco-friendly-gift-wrap-guide/ or
• https://ecocult.com/15-eco-friendly-gift-wrap-ideas-that-look-chic-not-cheap/

for more info).   And the tape and ribbons that go with the paper just add to the tally of planet-wrecking, non-recyclable plastic.

Wrapping paper has two socially important functions: (1) it temporarily hides the gift from view, adding to the surprise aspect of the gift, and (2) by adding to the object with non-utilitarian decoration, we signify that we're marking an occasion of importance.   Handing someone a chocolate chip cookie?  That's just being a good host or guest.  Handing someone a chocolate chip cookie in a fancy, wrapped box?  That's a gift.  

Of course, there are lots of reusable or otherwise ecologically friendly ways of wrapping presents (gift bags, scarves,  homemade bows and colorful newspaper), but I want to offer up one of my kids' favorite ways of getting gifts: the Treasure Hunt.  As awesome as wrapping gifts can be, very few of us will remember the wrapping style of any gift we got for long, but the Treasure Hunt is a treasured memory for many of my kids, above and beyond whatever measly Miser gifts I ever bought for them.  In fact, even though my "kids" are now in their 20's and 30's, we *still* do Treasure Hunts.  That's how awesome they are.

And because I've done this so often, I have sage wisdom to pass along for those who are new to creating hunts of their own.  (Of course I do.  I love imparting sage wisdom!)

How to put together a kick-butt treasure hunt

Long before I start putting out the scraps of paper that serve as clues, I grab a notepad and pencil, and I do a tour of the house and grounds, looking for good clue locations in various "zones".  A "zone" might be "second floor bedrooms", or "upstairs bathroom", or "backyard", or such.  In  in my experience, a good treasure hunt has 8-12 clues to hunt for, so it's helpful to try to have that approximately that many different zones.  

I have 4 kids who do the treasure hunt, so in each zone I choose four different locations where I'll hide the clues.  For bedrooms, I stick with a generic hiding place that's the same for each kid ("under your pillow"); but in the second floor bathroom, I might jot down several specific places: the medicine cabinet mirror, shower, soap dish, and cat decoration.   The kitchen has so many good hiding places that I'll usually be able to have two hiding locations per kid somewhere in there.  

Suggestion: don't choose an object (like a bicycle) that someone is likely to use and/or move around the day of the treasure hunt, or you might end up losing that clue and derailing one kid's treasure hunt. . . you don't have to ask me how I know that little fact.

Once I have these locations written down, I plan out a route.  Running back and forth a lot makes the experience last longer and also increases the number of times my kids run past each other, both of which make for a more awesome treasure hunt.  So I try work that into the route; if they start in the dining room on the first floor, the first clue might be up in the attic or out in the back yard, and then down into the basement, and then back upstairs . . . lots of criss-crossing is fun.  I can do that just by numbering things on the list of hiding places, right there on the notepad.  

Only then, when I have my notepad filled out, do I start to create the actual paper clues for the kids.   I have two pro-tips for this.

1. Color code the clues, so each kid has a different color.   That way, Y knows to look for the (say) hot-pink clues, and not to accidentally take J-son's clue.   (Except for the year that she did take his clue, throwing things off kilter).
2. On each clue, write the location where you'll put that scrap of paper, as well as where that clue leads.  So, for example, one of the clues from our Pirate Treasure hunt reads,
   

   A-child: Yer at the hanging tool bag.
   Arrr!  Look lively!  And look ye ter the eight-sided mirror hoisted high in the house.

   Knowing where each scrap of paper goes will be a huge help when you're getting ready to put the clues around the house.

I do all of this in a Word document; in future years I can cut-and-paste to swap kid names and give them each a "new" treasure hunt.  Here's what page looks like when I put it together:

For the Pirate Treasure Hunt, I print a pirate map on the back.  If I were doing this for a different holiday, I could imagine having a birthday cake image or a Christmas tree . . .  that way, people can put the puzzle pieces together or just a tiny bit of extra fun.  

As I said, I print each of these pages, one per child, on different colors of paper.  Then I cut the various clues apart.   The above sheet has 13 clues; I'd cut it into 13 pieces.   Once I have all the pieces, I sort the clues by where I'll put them --- all the backyard clues together, for example, and I put those together in an envelope.  Because I usually prepare these clues long in advance, the envelopes help to keep things sorted during the weeks (months) between making these and putting them out.     

On the day that I'm going to launch the treasure hunt, all I have to do is grab the envelopes and walk around the house and yard, putting the clues in their correct spots.  I hide the present (or the money, or whatever the "treasure" is) in the appropriate place, and hang on to the first clues to hand out to my kids at just the right time.  

Our first year of doing the treasure hunts, I taped a few dollar coins underneath their dining room chairs, so that they had no idea that they were sitting on the treasure all through dinner.  Now, whenever we have  Pirate Dinner, my kids all look under their chairs before they sit down.  One year, I taped the coins under the chairs after the hunt had started, after they'd already started running maniacally around the house.  When he came to the last clue, J-son was at a loss:  where do I look?  He told his sisters, "it can't be under the chairs!  I already looked there!"  So it turned out to be a great hiding place that year, too!

Micro nutrients, micro plastics

When I first started hearing about "micro plastics" contaminating our water (etc), I figured the micro plastics were microscopic in size.  Makes sense, right?  

But a "micro plastic" is just anything smaller than 5 mm, and 5 mm is definitely visible.  It's about the width of the push button on a plastic pen. 

The push button is 5 mm across:
micro plastic in the making.

What I was thinking of --- those too-tiny-to-see pieces of plastic --- also have a name; they're called nanoplastics, and scientists find those in all sorts of unwanted places, including our bodies.   "Nanoplastics can easily cross all kinds of barriers , whether it's the blood-brain barrier or the placental barrier, and get into our tissues," says the former director of an agency that ought to know:  the National Institute of Environmental Health Sciences and the National Toxicology Program.  

How these plastics get into our bodies in the first place, though, is that we eat, drink, and breathe them, partly in the form of microplastics.  At least, that's what a recent Consumer Reports article says.  And how much plastic do we eat?  Maybe as much as 5 mg per week:  a credit card worth of plastic (or half a ballpoint pen). 

Cracking open a brand new plastic bottle or tearing a wrapper off a sandwich releases fragments of plastic that we might end up ingesting.   Household dust can be full of microplastics -- and it's possible that you might kick this up into the air from your carpet and breathe it in.  Plastic fibers even wash off clothes into our water supplies.

What's so bad about eating plastic?  

• "Nanoplastic particles  might create a systemic inflammatory response."
• "Nanoplastics could possibly release harmful chemicals (such as BPA) into our bodies."
  
• "Microplastics act like magnets for additional toxins, picking up pollutants such as PCBs, chemicals now banned for manufacture in the U.S., but still present in the environment."
• "Chemicals used in plastic containers affect brain and organ development in children, and are linked to infertility and cardiovascular problems."

And the truth is we don't know the full effect of plastic.  Part of the reason we're in the dark is the fact that plastic is still relatively new.  As CR writes, "Half of the plastic ever made was made in just the last 13 years".   Plastic feels like it's been around forEVER, but I myself grew up with a childhood of glass bottles and cardboard cartons for everything -- baby oil came in glass bottles; soda came in glass bottles; milk came in paper cartons.   I still remember seeing the add for the brand new invention of the 2-liter soda bottle, and being horrified as the happy family accidentally brushed it off the table onto the floor.  Seeing the bottle bounce instead of shatter was stunning -- I still remember the shocked surprise I felt -- it was exactly the memorable sensation that the ad writers intended, one I still remember decades later.  

The other part of the reason we don't know the full effect of plastic on our health is that "our risk assessment methods haven't been updated since the late 1950's.  It measures the dangers of high doses of a chemical but doesn't account for the fact that low doses may have different harmful effects."

We CAN reduce the amount of plastic we ingest (even if we can't completely eliminate it).  Consumer Reports suggests these six steps to take:

1. Drink tap water instead of bottled water.  
2. Use the stove to heat food, or microwave it in glass instead of plastic.  (Heated plastics leach yucky stuff into food).
3. Buy and store food in glass, silicone, or foil instead of in plastic.  (I'll write about silcone on Wednesday!!!)
4. Eat fresh food as much as possible.  ("The more processed or packaged a food is, the higher a risk that it contains worrisome chemicals.  Food cans are often lined with bisphenol A (or similar compounds . . ." )
5. Vacuum regularly; don't allow household surfaces to get dusty.  ("Cleaning up dust may help reduce the amount of plastics you inhale, especially if you are stuck inside for a long time . . . ")
6. Work with your community.  ("Seek out groups such as Upstream.org, a nonprofit working to create reusable takeout packaging for restaurants")

To this I'll add:  refuse plastic wherever possible.  We each have our own limit for what "possible" means, but every little piece of plastic we do NOT bring into this world is one less piece of plastic that we're in danger of eating or breathing . . .  or that my grandchildren's grandchildren will be in danger of eating or breathing.  It's Nanas against nanoplastics in this household, and I'm rooting for the Nanas to win.

Miser Family update: Icy Hot!

Life continues to be hot and full in the Miser Family household.  With July temperatures soaring all along the East Coast (erm, and Minnesota), we all dealt with the temps in our own ways.

Some of us rely on liquids to keep ourselves cool.  L2-daughter, who celebrated the one-year anniversary of her dissertation this past week, recommends "Refillable iced tea".  Yum!  My grandchildren have opposite approaches to water:  "A-child likes to splash in the water. B-child likes to sit in the cool AC indoors, as she didn't like the lake too much"

Wait, don't you want another B-child photo?  Yes, you do.  Here you go.

L1-daughter could teach B-child a thing or two:  "How my friend jen and I stay cool in the heat and socially distant: our own lil blow up pools".  But Watson sides with B-child:  "Watson stays cool by sitting in the AC at home and doing non strenuous activities like reading a book".

Another approach, for those who don't do water, is wind.  My guy writes that the best way to stay cool is "Lie down underneath a large fan".  I-daughter doesn't have helicopters hovering, but she too recommends "Fans! (And keeping my hair up)".   And N-son chimes in likewise, "I stay cool by getting a haircut".  And a darned fine haircut, too, I say!

Me, I had kind of the opposite approach:  I didn't stay cool.  In fact, early in the week I had heat (exhaustion?  stress?) and ran a slight temperature.  Not an approach I recommend, as it could lead to a situation that Y describes:  "CT Scanner was hot today.  Got called to the ER for 6 stroke alerts!!!"

What else happened to us this week?  My guy went for a follow-up appointment with his surgeon who asked him multiple times why he's not riding his bike yet.  Um, because bone density?  But the surgeon told him that actually he ought to keep riding, and his physical therapists later in the week said the same.  So guess who got back on the bike?  

On the theme of running hot and cold . . . Our dishwasher leaks all over the floor if we don't shut it correctly, so we got a new refrigerator, oven, and freezer.

Actually, eventually we're getting a new dishwasher, too. But ALL of our appliances are very old and energy hogs (and the oven burns half the food while undercooking the other half), so we figured we'd just replace everything at once. The first three appliances arrived today, but the dishwasher isn't in stock. So, we're stuck with kicking the dishwasher door for a little bit longer.

And that's the news from our family, which continues to be wealthy in our steamy adventures.  May you and yours be cool and prosperous. 

The poop on paper (vs plastic)

Here's another throwback Thursday post (or re-post), slightly updated.

Be duly warned: this post is about picking up dog poop. If that's not something you want to read about, s'alright to leave the room right now.

Our previous dog (Miser Dog) was so insanely bad around other dogs that we pretty much never walked him (he used a fenced-in dog run as his bathroom). But Prewash is great with people and beasts alike, and she learned to walk at heel so quickly that I've had a lot of fun walking her around the neighborhood.

This means that when we got her, for the first time in a decade, I had to think about how to clean up after my dog in other people's yards. It just so happens that, over the course of that same decade, I've tried to become a bit of a "no trash" freak, with a special emphasis on "no plastic". In fact, one of the small feats I keep patting myself on the back about is that I've convinced our newspaper carrier to stop wrapping our daily paper in plastic bags --- and yes, those are the same plastic bags that so many people tell me make "excellent dog poop bags".

It's true that we still seem to have an endless supply of plastic bags in our home. Even though we try to avoid it, we get random plastic bags wrapped around our produce, our cereal, Amazon items, etc. So there are still plastic bags in abundance that I could use for walking the dog, although admittedly some of them are odd and inconvenient shapes.

But I've discovered something I like way better than plastic bags, even better than plastic newspaper bags: newspaper. And the reason paper is better than plastic is this: when my dog squats, I slide a sheet of paper right where she's hunkered down, and the poop falls on the paper. Her mess doesn't get stuck the grass or anything like that. I then fold the paper over top of her mess, wrapping it in more paper if I'm going some distance, and carry it to the nearest trash can (or if we're close to home, I have a compost pile). I'm fortunate that our walk takes us past lots of trash cans, so I usually don't have to carry it far.

Clean up is so much easier than with a bag this way . . . I'm sort of amazed how nicely this works. And I like that this little package is entirely biodegradable.

Someone asked me, in as delicate a way as possible, whether the mess seeps through the paper.  I have never had that happen yet.  In fact, the wetter the poop is, the easier (by comparison to plastic) it is to pick up the mess from a lawn.

Here are two interesting (to me, at least) updates from when I originally posted this.  We've done this for so long now, that when we go on walks, the sound of rustling newspaper is a cue to the dog that we're going to stop for a poop break -- so I've now trained her to poop on command, usually near a convenient public trash can.  I think that's hilarious.

Now that we've moved, we no longer have a large yard that can host various compost piles.  Dog poop and newspaper are both compostable, but the former is not supposed to be used in compost that goes in food gardens.  We are super, super fortunate that our next door neighbors are the opposite of yard-proud, and they've allowed us to throw food scraps, stray leaves, and other compostable items over our fence into their yard.  (There's a very large bush that shields the compost pile from the view of their house).   This pile slowly rots into the ground, and doesn't add to the landfill burden.   

And I know this is a gross subject, so I'll just stop here.

Honest confusion about Terracycle

Occasionally, as an eco-nut, I run across enthusiastic articles or videos about a company called Terracycle.  The idea is this:

Pragmatically speaking, modern humans just aren't going to give up using plastic.  Many kinds of plastic packaging have multiple layers of different stuff, making them functionally impossible to deal with in mainstream recycling facilities.   So, the story goes, TerraCycle works with manufacturers to figure out how to recycle their own products:  juice pouches, razors, what-have-you.   Here's an inspirational 13-minute video describing their work.

I guess in theory I ought to be a fan.  But there's so much I don't understand, and that makes joining in the fun tricky.

Terracycle has a bunch of free recycling programs, like this one to recycle Rubbermaid containers.

[Oooh, I mis-spoke: although Rubbermaid is teaming up with Terracyle, 

they'll take "well-used, plastic and glass food containers of any brand".]

Or, currently, if you use (and then dispose of) plastic razors, here's a recycling (which means "downcycling") program underway co-sponsored by Gilette, CVS, Fisher House, and Terracycle.  I use metal safety razors, so I don't have personal experience with this program either.

If I were the Monarch of the Universe (and I know I'm not), I'd make all producers of consumer goods responsible in whole or part for dealing with the whole lifecycle of their products, so I think programs like this are great! To participate, you go to that link, click around to get yourself a mailing label to print out, and then ship the containers off to them. 

Most of us, though, don't have a dedicated space in our home for separating out trash into so many discrete boxes, accumulating it until we have a full box, and then shipping it out.  So although I've printed out my label for this and for a couple of other programs they offer (Tide pods, Febreeze bottles), I haven't had a chance to put these into practice yet.

For those of us who don't want to keep track of garbage quite so minutely,  it is possible to buy a somewhat more general "recycling box" from Terracycle, and ship them your waste that they'll deal with by recycling appropriately.  For the Kitchen Separation Box, for example. they promise:

WHAT YOU CAN RECYCLE

Use this box to recycle any non-recyclable and non-organic waste that is generated in the kitchen. This includes items such as:

• Plastic packaging
• Paper Packaging
• Filters
• Cleaning accessories
• Coffee and tea accessories
• Party supplies and dining disposables
• Interior home furnishings
• Prescription drug packaging
• Fabrics and clothing

In practice, though, these boxes are amazingly costly.   The large box (15"x15"x37", or about 36 gallons), costs $346, and that doesn't seem to include shipping costs.  The smaller box -- about the size of a printer-paper box-- costs "only" $106.  It's not exactly clear how effective or efficient their recycling program is; what happens, for example, to the "prescription drug packaging"?    One would hope it would be environmentally milder than my current default of throwing it in the landfill-bound garbage, but all I can go on is hope.   Expensive hope.

It still seems like avoiding the waste in the first place is easier, cheaper, and more effective.  But I continue to be intrigued.  If anyone out there has experience with TerraCycle and wants to share, I'm all ears!

Salad dressing and vinegar

Let's talk about something fun and delicious:  salad dressing.

And because it's me doing the writing (and because I'm writing during plastic-free July), you know I'm going to blather on about making our own salad dressing (a) cheaply and (b) with less packaging waste.  As a bonus, I'm going to cheer that it's totally easy to make your own vinegar for (nearly) free!

Our own family's basic recipe for a yummy salad dressing has this recipe:

1. One part vinegar
2. Two parts oil
3. other stuff with flavors

Not so hard, is it?   For example, my husband is sensitive to garlic, so for years our Go-To salad dressing has been this honey-mustard vinaigrette:

1. One cup cider vinegar
2. One cup peanut oil and one cup olive oil
3. 1/3 cup honey, a tablespoon of mustard, a handful of chives, and a pinch each of salt, pepper, and lemon juice

Lately, we've gotten adventurous and branched into this Thai dressing:

1. one cup white vinegar
2. two cups olive oil (with a tad of sesame oil if we have it around),
3. soy sauce (a bunch), garlic, honey, ginger

Or this carrot/ginger dressing:

1. one cup white/rice/cider vinegar, depending on what we have
2. two cups olive oil,
3. a cup or more of roasted mashed carrots, minced ginger, salt

****

Nowadays,  I manage to get almost all of the above ingredients plastic-free.  The oil was one of the ones that took the most searching, but I finally found a local market (less than two blocks from our new home!!!!) where I can fill my own glass jar with olive oil, and it's very reasonably priced, as well.  That was an awesome find!

The big holdout for me still is plain vinegar -- I just haven't found a source (yet) that doesn't come in plastic; it's a small consolation that at least I'm purchasing what I do get in (a) large, gallon-size jugs that are (b) re/down-cylcable.

However, it turns out that making my own cider vinegar is VERY easy, and cheap.  If you want to play along at home, you need large glass jars (gallon-sized work great, but quart sized jars work, too) and a bunch of apple parings.   

I make my cider vinegar in October, as I'm canning apples.  Basically, I toss the cores and unwanted apple peels into the jars (no rotten apples, though), cover the apples with water and possibly sugar (up to one tablespoon of sugar per cup of water), and wait.  

It's a tiny bit more complicated than that -- the jars need to stay in a "warm, dark place" (in my case, the basement) and be covered with something breathable (a cloth attached with a rubber band).  After two weeks,  I strain out the apple stuff and put the cloth back on.  In another two-to-four weeks or so, it's cider vinegar, so I add a real (airtight) lid.  And, done!   Not bad for something that I make with scraps and water.  

If you want a slightly more detailed version, see many different googly sites, like this one:  https://www.farmersalmanac.com/make-your-own-apple-cider-vinegar-22645

What is radical about refusing plastic?

The garbage we buy, the garbage we are directly or indirectly responsible for, the garbage that other people make while we say nothing . . . it has to go somewhere.  Where does it go?

The answer is that it goes back into the environment in one form or another.  We say we "throw it away", but there is no "away" on this finite earth we occupy.  If you're a typical person in the U.S., you're tossing 7 pounds of garbage into the can daily, according to a University of Columbia study; about a third of that is packaging, meaning stuff that you didn't ever want in the first place.   And domestic trash cans in turn make up a miniscule fraction (about 3%) of the garbage our country produces on our behalf.  The rest of the waste -- mostly mining, manufacture, and farming -- is garbage we produce indirectly because of what and how we consume.  That's a lot of stuff to hide from the sight of those of us who want to walk through neighborhoods that aren't piled high with litter, who want to drive along roads that have been cleared of illegal dumping, who want to visit beaches and forests and parks that aren't decorated with the accumulated remnants of decades of other people's department store castoffs and grocery wrappings.  

Where do we hide the litter, to keep it from our sight?  We put it in places where the people don't have the political capital to object.   We bury (or process, or burn) our trash in places where poor people and people of color live.   Here is a description from Energy.gov, the Office of Legacy Management,  "Environmental Justice History":

Another study that sprang from the Warren County protest is Toxic Waste and Race, a 1987 United Church of Christ study that examined the relationship between waste siting decisions in the United States and race. That study concluded that race was the most significant factor in siting hazardous waste facilities, and that three out of every five African Americans and Hispanics live in a community housing toxic waste sites.

 

Critics to both studies have presented arguments supporting different conclusions for waste siting decisions. Some argue that the cost of land and favorable business climates are greater predictors of waste siting decisions. Others have argued that minority and low-income residents have moved into neighborhoods hosting a waste facility due to the cheap cost of land. Regardless to the reason, a clear feeling in many minority communities is that they have been targeted for unwanted land uses and have little, if any, power to remedy their dilemma.

We think of our roles as consumers as being personal ones, occasionally political ones.  But our blindness and our indifference to where our trash goes has deep racial and humanitarian implications.  Those of us wealthy Americans -- who live a consumer/disposer lifestyle -- are poisoning our environment, but we're poisoning the environment of poor people of color even more than we're poisoning the environment of middle class, white people.  

We could respond by protesting the locations of landfills (and many brave people do just that).  But protesting is hard work, and it's hard to be everywhere at once.  Do you know where your trash goes?  Our own county Waste Management Authority has facilities in four different zip codes, and that doesn't account for the materials they sell or ship elsewhere.   Making protests even more fraught, we all know the garbage has to go somewhere.   So do we protest by arguing we ought to build landfills in rich white neighborhoods instead?

I say all this to remind us that, by comparison, saying "no thank you" to excess stuff in the first place is So. Much. Easier.  

Before you do it the first time, taking your own container to a restaurant and asking the server to place leftovers there seems Radical.   And then you do it, and it's not so bad.  Likewise for stopping excess mail.  And for patching the hole in a piece of clothing instead of tossing it and buying a brand new version.  And bringing your own bags to the store.  And switching from soda in plastic bottles to tea in paper packets or purchased bulk.  And learning to make your own granola.  And finding a store where you can bulk buy jelly beans and bring them home in your beautiful glass jars instead of plastic bags.  And putting a plate on top of a bowl instead of cling wrap.  And using cut-up t-shirts instead of paper towels (that would have come wrapped in plastic).  

These are all simple acts.  And yet, they all speak to the Radical notion that, by caring for the physical world immediately around us, we're affecting the physical world for people far away from us, too.   And this is so, so important.  Because on this finite planet we live on, there is no 'away'.