I am the ANTI-GREEN MACHINE

I've decided to come clean, own up and be proud of this fact: I AM ANTI-GREEN. I'm so anti-green that I glow red when the lights are off. I know it isn't politcally correct. I'm sure I'll be ostracized. I can't help it - I won't hide anymore.

It all started with recycling in the 90's. It seemed to me that there was something backward in the movement. In order to recycle a can, I need to rinse it with water. So aren't I using water I would otherwise have saved in order to recycle the can? It seemed like a tie, so I never bothered. I have enough dishes to do already.

I don't act alone. Donovan's never been 'big' on recycling. The only time we put effort into it was when the giant Costco boxes from a recent shopping trip wouldn't fit into the garbage. My husband would dutifully break them down and set them aside. We didn't even have a fancy blue PLASTIC box to hold them. After three seperate calls to Allied Waste, a recycling container was never delivered. This truly isn't all my fault. It's obvious to me that there are forces greater than myself working to keep me from being environmentally conscientious.

I chuckle at the reusable grocery bags available at stores. If I didn't have any plastic bags, what would I line my tiny garbage cans in the bathroom with? I'd have to burn gas to go to the store to BUY little plastic bags! If there were no plastic grocery bags, what would I put Sophie's underwear in when she doesn't make it to the potty at the park? For goodness sake - IF THERE WERE NO PLASTIC BAGS, WHAT WOULD I PUT OVER DONOVAN'S HEAD WHEN HE CALLS ME MRS. RUSH LIMBAUGH????

Recently, on a trip to the public library, I came across the "Fuel Efficient Cars Only" parking signs. I'm still recovering from the ulcer I developed over those. The idea that our public officials would set aside front row parking because of the type of car you purchase sent me over the edge. A fruitless argument with a secretary from the Mayor's office and a few chats with the KTVB News crew didn't get me anywhere.

I realized I can't write a book and tour like Al Gore, or make a stunning debut on The Today Show with my radical perspective. The only thing I can do begins and ends in our home.

I can honestly say we compost. Not in the same way that Oprah and Julia Roberts compost (giant barrels filled with garbage eating worms tended by a grounds maintenance crew.) However, I do throw left over pancakes to my chickens who in turn fertilize my lawn (and my deck and my chairs) with their own brand of compost.

I can honestly say I reuse. I'm an avid yard sale-er with an eye for a bargain. The phrase "one's man's trash is another man's treasure" holds true for me. I also have no problem donning those items of clothing left on the clearance rack at Ross. If I don't wear it, it will ultimately be sent to a textile company that will use countless barrels of fossil fuels in order to break down and reknit last year's cropped pink polyester jacket into next year's Snuggie.

I was watching a segment on TV the other night about a famous actor who is working to take his house off "The Grid." As he was extolling the virtues of using not one drop of California's energy, I couldn't help but wonder what happens to the guy that checks the meters? No energy use = unemployment for energy workers. Is he qualified to be hired to work on the actor's solar panels? How does Obama plan to phase employees out of their current industry and into these new technologies? I know one thing for certain: I am unable to phase from alarm-clock-punching-morning-zombie into capable-semi-attractive-toilet-scrubbing-housewife in less than 3 hours. How is Joe the Plumber going to be able to engineer water reclamation plants?

Finally, and maybe this is what makes me MOST insane, is that I believe that Global Warming is a myth. Yup. I said it. I'm sure my IQ dropped 20 points the moment I typed that sentence. My faith in God challenges me to rest assured that whatever is or isn't happening on this planet is part of His divine plan for humanity. We should always be good stewards of our blessings. To me, that doesn't mean carbon offsets, sulfate-free dishwashing detergent or cow dung reprocessed as biodegradable Big Mac containers. It means gratefully accepting hand me downs, home cooking, watching chickens play in the yard with a cold beer, back-yard birthday parties, cucumbers from the garden and turning off the TV.

Or you could just buy a Prius.

(c) 2009, Kelsey Robbins