Simply

I keep hearing about various environmental stunts. No Impact Man, the 100-mile diet, and the Little Brown Dress are some of them. They all fall under what used to be called voluntary simplicity.

I'm not opposed to stunts - they make people think, they're noticeable. If labels and stunts help people feel cool about a simpler lifestyle, great.

I was thinking about the ways Jeff and I live simply. Some of these habits just come from having thrifty mothers, I think, but others we've come to on our own. And there's a often happy convergence between what is sustainable and what is cheap. There are exceptions, but mostly:

We do	We don't
Live below our means and give away about half our income	Like the level of inequality we see in the world
Bus, train, subway, bike, and hoof it	Own a car
Use rags, sponges, cloth napkins	Use paper towels and napkins
Line-dry our laundry	Use the dryer
Travel by bus	Travel by plane
Make wine	Buy alcohol
Use a little meat to flavor other dishes	Use meat as a main dish
Use the library	Buy books or movies
Have a big apartment by Hong Kong standards	Have a big apartment by American standards
Play music and board games	Own a TV
Cook at home	Eat out
Buy bulk staples and cook from scratch	Buy much pre-made food
Use reusable menstrual products (well, only Julia)	Use disposable menstrual products
Shop from thrift stores, Craigslist, yard sales, and freecycle	Buy new clothes, housewares, furniture
Use fans	Use air conditioning
Budget like hell	Impulse buy
Count our blessings

Yes, even when it's cold.

Lentils with smoked gouda

This is a Pendle Hill recipe that's become one of my staples. Lentils cook faster than most beans even without soaking, so this dinner can be done about an hour after you get home.

Rinse 3 cups French lentils (also called lentils du puy. They are dark green in color and are much nicer than red or brown lentils.)
Cover with plenty of water and boil until tender.

Turn on the oven to 350. Drain the lentils and stir in:

1 teaspoon sage
Salt to taste
Broth or broth powder

Other possible additions:
a dash of vinegar
mustard
chopped apple
chopped walnuts
cooked sausage

Put in a greased casserole and top with grated cheddar or smoked gouda. Bake until the cheese is bubbly.

Just a thing

This weekend Jeff and I went to Kentucky for my grandmother's memorial service. She died at age 101 this fall. That thing happened that often happens when old people die - for years they have been a shell of themselves, unable to think or act like they used to. But this week, with children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren gathered in her house to remember her, she was there in a way she hasn't been for years.

My other grandmother, from the rich side of the family, used to tell a story about her childhood. A diamond belonging to someone in the family had come out of its setting, and Granny secretly got it out of the drawer and was playing with it on the floor. The stone fell between the floorboards. She told someone what had happened and then hid behind the door, terrified of being punished. The frantic adults pried up the floorboards and found the diamond, and they were so relieved they forgot all about Granny and left her unpunished behind the door.

At the memorial my mom told a story about her mother which I had never heard before. When Mom went to college, Grandma gave her a diamond ring, a family heirloom. (I've seen both diamonds, and this one is smaller but much prettier.) At one point Mom thought she had lost the ring, and she felt just awful about it. She told her mother she couldn't find the ring. Grandma answered, "It's just a thing. If you were lost, I would be really upset. But this is just a thing."

I'm intrigued by the comparison. My father's side of the family is much more materially successful. They're the reason I could go to an expensive private college. But I don't love any of them like I loved Grandma, who struggled to raise four children on the earnings from her and her husbands' various jobs (factory worker, teacher, secretary, newspaper columnist, minister). This woman taught me that if you could get the protein for the family supper for under a dollar, you were doing all right. (Her solution was usually tuna. Mine is usually beans.) But despite having less, she valued possessions less. At the memorial we sang a hymn that especially suited her, with the line "Riches I heed not, nor man's empty praise."

Grandma knew where it was at.

Truth in advertising

On Christmas day I walked past a liquor store that was shuttered. Its sign read:
HOLIDAYS ARE FOR FAMILY
WE SELL LIQUOR

After all the other things alcohol is sold as - sex, youth, refinement, camaraderie, fun - it was refreshing to see that all stripped away.

My favorite Christmas idea

You pick a gift. Your friend gets a card. Someone in need gets what they need.

The wrong song

In a week when I'm scheduled within an inch of my life, Peggy Seeger's "Lady, What Do You Do All Day?" was the wrong choice of train listening this morning.

On my way home I shop for the supper
And then have a tidy around
Billy comes in, sits down with the paper,
says "Girl, don't you ever sit down?"
Men of the world, would you think it was strange,
Think it was right, think it was funny
To slog every night at a job for free
After slogging all day for your money?

To be fair, Jeff works more hours than I do, and he did the last grocery run and the last cooking.