Now That's Commitment

Sheryl Crow, singer and save the earth activist, suggested a few months back that people should not use more than one sheet of toilet paper per session. There might an occasional emergency when one would be allowed to use two or three sheets.

I noticed that a nine pack of Quilted Northern double roles has 392 square feet of tissue. That should be enough to last Sheryl for two years -- including those three tissue moments.

Don't you just love glitterati who lecture us on how to save the earth, but live in multi-million dollar glass houses and private jet around the world. Sheryl Crow's suggestion shows that she is more than just talk; she is walking the walk. Four squares a day--now that's real commitment. It will be a struggle for our family, but we are moved.

I am impressed by those who have real commitment to making this a better earth.

A few engineer friends have build ultra energy efficient houses and are totally self sufficient with no utilities of water, gas, or electricity. They built their houses in a hillside or from used old tires and aluminum cans. They live year round at 59 degrees with the carbon footprint of a mouse. Now that's commitment.

When an engineer started working in the same R&D lab as I, he talked about the downsides of consumerism. When he was offered a raise, he refused on basic principles. More raises came over the years -- he refused them all. Now that's commitment.

There was a professor who taught conservation at a nearby university. He recycled and composted much of his stuff. At the end of each year he took one sack of trash to the dump on his bicycle. Now that's commitment.

Calls for conservation from the jet setters are a bit hollow if they are not willing to sacrifice--like Sheryl Crow and her four squares.

Last week, I heard that Sheryl told a reporter that she actually had been joking about the toilet paper. What a perfidy!

Say it ain't so, Miss Crow.

Farewell to Lightbulb

This morning, carrying my coffee cup and newspaper, I went out on our back deck. I was earlier than usual, as I was concerned if I would see Lightbulb the fawn. I have enjoyed the past two months -- from the day she was taking her first wobbly steps -- to now when she has just about lost her spots. My granddaughter Libby selected Lightbulb's name, along with the names for the twin fawns -- Roller and Coaster.

I have a love-hate relationship with the deer. We have stopped growing flowers--we tired of encasing them in netting. The bucks rub their old horns against tree trunks in the winter ripping off the bark and killing the trees. This winter was the worst for damage from foraging--they stripped most of the evergreens clean.

On the other hand, whether drinking coffee early in the morning or entertaining guests: having Lightbulb, Roller and Coaster bouncy-bounce-by is a showstopper.

Lightbulb's mother has been very protective. One day I saw her hiss loudly at a buck and chase him away. Then there was the time she chased the bobcat out of the backyard.

Nursing by Lightbulb has been a bit rough, with Lightbulb continually punching mom's udder with her nose. When mom has had enough, she swings her leg up over Lightbulb's head and feeding time is over. When Lightbulb has been separated from her mother, she has mewed like a cat.

I had the feeling this morning that Lightbulb was not going to walk by again. Last night at dusk she came by with her mother -- her rear leg broken and dangling.

I was very upset about Lightbulb's plight. Me! The one who is always cussing the deer.

Now how do I answer the inevitable question from my granddaughter about where Lightbulb has gone?

With the truth I guess -- our backyard is not a zoo, it's a jungle.

Bye Bye, Lightbulb.