How NOT to Make a Cup of Tea

The other day I proceeded to make cups of tea for Husband, Teenage Daughter and me. Things didn't quite go to plan.

I put enough water in the kettle for three cups and turned it on to boil. While it was boiling I put a teabag into each mug. We usually use loose leaf tea and a teapot but Planet Organic makes really nice Earl Grey tea. In fact, I prefer it to Twinings. The bags can be put into the green waste bin, as well, so I don't mind the small indulgence.

Once the water had boiled I poured it into the mugs. It was then that I realised that the Planet Organic chamomile teabags had been sitting on top of the Earl Grey ones and I'd accidentally grabbed them instead. So, while the three mugs of chamomile were steeping, I refilled the kettle, got three fresh mugs and three Earl Grey teabags.

This time, once the water had boiled I again poured boiling water into the mugs. It was then that I discovered I'd only filled the kettle with enough water for two mugs. (It's unusual to have to make three.) So, as all the various teas steeped, I boiled the kettle for a third time! I got it right on the third attempt.

We all got our cups of tea in the end and I'm gradually working my way through the jug of chamomile in the fridge. I was pretty annoyed with myself for boiling the kettle not once, not twice but three times. Grrr!

How not to make a cup of tea!!!

Cheers.

Bangladesh Accord

Below is a list of the companies that have signed the Bangladesh Accord to improve worker safety. Big W is not on the list but is in negotiations to do so. Furthermore, the Ethical Consumer Guide now has a section on clothing. Here is the link if you want to check it out. I've also been in touch with Miller - which hasn't shown up on either list - and they responded immediately with, "Kindly be advised that Millers do not partake in the operation of sweat shops nor do we produce products in this manner. All of our colleagues are paid a fair wage by Bangladesh trading and employment standards. Millers supports the growth of employment and trade in Bangladesh and are always looking to improve and build on this." Just Jeans and Pacific Brands are yet to answer. In fact, I contacted Pacific Brands over two years ago and heard nothing. Sadly, they dominate the underwear market here so they don't really have to play by the rules because no one is going to go knickerless in protest.

Cheers.


Abercrombie & Fitch

Aldi Nord

Aldi South

American Eagle Outfitters, Inc.

Auchan

Belotex

Benetton

Bestseller

Bonmarche

C&A

Camaieu

Carrefour

Charles Voegele

Chicca

Comtex GmbH

Coop Danmark

Cotton On

Dansk

Daytex

Debenham

Distra

DK Company

El Corte Ingles

Ernstings's Family

Esprit

Fat Face

Forever New

Gstar

H&M

Helly 
Hansen

Hema

Hemtex AB

Herding 
Heimtextil

Hess Natur-Textilien GmbH

Horizonte

Inditex

JBC

Jogilo

John Lewis

Juritex

KappAhl

Karstadt

Kik

Kmart (Australia)

LC WAIKIKI

Leclerc

Lidl

Loblaw

Mango

Marks and Spencer

Metro

Mothercare

Multiline

N Brown

New Look

Next
Otto Group

Primark

PUMA

PVH

Rewe

S Olivier

Sainsbury

Schmidt Group

Scoop NYC / Zac Posen

Sean John Apparel

Shop Direct Group

Stockmann

Switcher

Target (Australia)

Tchibo

Tesco

Texman

Topgrade International

V&D

Van der Erve 
NV

Varner Group

Voice Norge AS

We Europe

Zeeman

Reverse Culture Shock

I spent a lovely couple of hours yesterday morning with Teenage Daughter, her friend, The Traveller, and The Traveller's Mum. It was a catch-up I'd really been looking forward to. The Traveller's been back from India for a month now and I got to hear all about her five month stay there.

One of the first things The Traveller mentioned was reverse culture shock. Anyone who's travelled overseas knows what I'm referring to. It's the culture shock you experience when you get home and it's real.

The first morning The Traveller woke up in her own bed at home, she was overwhelmed by the fact that she was alone, not only in a big room but, in a big house. I imagine she never before had thought of her room or her house as being particularly large but she was feeling it that day.

I remember years ago when Australia began to welcome Vietnamese refugees and asylum seekers how people were shocked that several extended families would live in one three bedroom suburban house. By the mid-seventies, when Saigon fell, most Australian families lived one family per house. That's still the case but the houses keep getting bigger. Families of four these days think they couldn't possibly live in houses the size of the ones they grew up in. It's all relative, of course, because people in Third World countries seem to be happy just to have a roof over their heads and don't seem too hung up on who they're sharing a room or a house with.

After waking, The Traveller ventured into the kitchen for breakfast and encountered her second wave of culture shock. For five months she'd been happily starting the day with a vegemite and cheese covered chapati. Back in Australia she was faced with the endless choices of breakfast foods. That's not bad by any means but have you gone to a full pantry or fridge, stood there with the door open, your finger to your lips wondering what to have? We're so blessed with choice that sometimes it's a curse. And we don't even appreciate it for the most part.

The Traveller told me that they had flour, rice, dhal, tomatoes, potatoes and onions as the staples out of which they made most of their meals. (Hopefully, if The Traveller is reading this she can add to the comment section anything I may have left out.) They made fresh chapatis everyday. All their meals were cooked on a small gas burner and there was no fridge which made things like milk and meat somewhat tricky. In all the photos she took over the course of the five months in India, she is the picture of health. I don't know about anyone else but I have a lot more than a fridge, small gas cooker and full fridge and pantry in my kitchen. One cupboard is replete with appliances I rarely use.

I could never live the way The Traveller did for that five months. For a start I'd end up with the worst Delhi belly in the history of the world. As I listened, however, I felt blessed by my modest suburban home and comfortable kitchen.

When The Traveller went to the supermarket for the first time after her return she was appalled by the amount of packaging on all our products. In India she shopped at local markets and used her plastic and material bags until they fell apart. A lot of us are trying that here and fighting what feels like a losing battle. Can you even buy strawberries loose anymore?

Out of the kitchen and into the laundry. What laundry? In India The Traveller hand washed all her clothes outside and hung it to dry. Hand wringing was sometimes a two-person job. The area The Traveller lived in is prone to fog and it was difficult to dry clothes on foggy days. The "Chinese laundry" set up in my rumpus room doesn't seem so bad now. After all, it's only the clothes that can't be put in the drier.

And finally, a piece of advice. When travelling in India the rule of thumb is to allow an extra five hours. Yes, five hours. I wonder how the people who get antsy if the plane sits on the tarmac a little too long or if the bus is late would cope in India. Hang on, that's me. I think there's a lesson in both patience and gratitude there somewhere.

We are just so lucky here. I'm not saying we're better or our life or our country is. I'm just saying our life is easy in comparison because of all the luxuries we have. And they are luxuries even though we think they're necessities. I also think we can learn a lot from the Indian lifestyle. It's not one I could adopt or cope with but I like the idea that less is enough when it comes to what's in the kitchen, as well as packaging. In fact, I like the idea in relation to our rooms and houses, too. My house feels pretty small but I bet if I off-loaded all the superfluous stuff it would feel big enough. After all, in previous generations a house the size of mine may have housed a couple of families or, at least, an extension of my own.

As for the five hour rule. Aaargh. I'm going to remind myself of it, however, every time I find myself feeling impatient because I have to stand in line or am caught in a traffic jam.

Cheers.

What Can You Eat?

Some friends invited us over for "beer o'clock" yesterday. One of them felt bad for a number of years and went through the whole see-saw of investigations until it was finally discovered that she had multiple food intolerances. She said that these days when people ask her what her dietary restrictions are, she prefers to tell them what she can eat.

I asked her what she can eat and she told me. It was obvious to me why she answers that way; while there is much she can no longer eat, there is still a lot she can eat so why dwell on the negative. I've written many times about what I no longer buy. Sometimes that frustrates the family and it becomes a case of having to point out what there is to eat, instead of dwelling on what there isn't. No, we don't have chips, dips and sweets. We do, however, have fruit, nuts, bread, crackers, cheese, veggies, wraps, rolls ... No, a lot of it isn't instant gratification. Not much in life is.

Trying to live in an eco-friendly and ethical way opens a can of worms. There is always more that can be done. I'm with my friend on this one, though. I don't want to focus on what we're not doing. I want to focus on what we are doing and feel proud of it. I've always said that it's more than some people and less than others. I'm just glad we're doing something. Furthermore, the better we feel about it, the more likely it is that the positive energy will carry us over into doing more.

It's been nearly two years since we decided to make the lifestyle change. There has been both progression and backslide. Nothing is set in concrete; we're writing it as we go along. I'm not very good at sticking with things so, for me to have been doing this for two years is quite a feat. It's still something I'm very passionate about.

As I write, the front garden is a disaster area. That's because we're in the process of having it turned into a productive garden. We still have our front door veggie patch, which is still giving us eggplant after eggplant after eggplant, and our raised beds in the back garden. That gave us no end of basil over the summer and is still giving us chillies. Over the weekend, Husband strung up several batches of chillies in our sunroom to dry out. I don't know how we're ever going to get through them all. Our winter lettuces and cabbages are growing well but the pea plants don't seem very happy.

The Ubiquitous Chillies

My laundry isn't going to dry on the line today so I'm using the dryer. Since it's running, there is no need to have the heater on.

The fridge and pantry are full of ethical and locally grown/produced food items.

I'm planning a trip to the Salvos soon to fill in some gaps in my winter wardrobe.

I've discovered that Gallery M is a treasure trove of interesting objects made by local artists that make great presents.

Now that Daughter has her drivers license, we share my car and that has cut down on driving and, thus,  carbon emissions.

It's all ticking over quite nicely. There's a lot we're doing.

Cheers.

Shopping in Bulk

I've been putting time and energy into shopping ethically. It's no secret that when environmental and ethical concerns clash I choose the latter. The on-going dilemma is packaging. Sometimes the brands I buy come heavily packaged and looking at what I'm putting into the bin week after week is disheartening.

That being the case, I've been buying in bulk again over the last few weeks. We've got a great little shop ten minutes away where I've been going. My reluctance in the past was being unable to ascertain who made the products I'd be buying. Having done this for awhile, however, I've come to learn which products are usually owned/made by multi-national nasties. Most of the things I buy in bulk are the kinds of foods that are unprocessed and, therefore, much more likely to be made locally by a local company.

At this store, one still has to fill plastic bags, rather than bring their own containers. I've just been using the same bags over and over again. I know that they'll eventually make landfill but there are many weeks in between where I won't be contributing to the problem. They'll probably be demoted to rubbish bin liners or dog poop bags before landing at the dump. It's not ideal but it's preferable to the packaging some of the products come in which can neither be reused nor recycled.

The one item troubling me is couscous. If I buy it at the supermarket it comes in a cardboard box which can be recycled. This means I'm putting a box in the recyclables nearly every week. (We eat a lot of couscous.) Recycling raises its own environmental issues of energy usage and, thus, carbon emissions. If I buy it in bulk, I can buy more, less frequently and reuse the bag numerous times. In the end, however, the bag is rubbish. I don't know which is preferable. Your thoughts would be greatly appreciated.

Cheers.

One Library to Rule Them All

The title makes it sound like Dr Who meets Lord of the Rings. The idea of one library isn't quite that dramatic.

The libraries in South Australia are in the process of joining together in a one library system. So far, I have only benefited from the move. I put a hold on a book I wanted several months ago and, when it came, it was the property of a library in a different part of the city. Similarly, a member of my writers' group saw a book he wanted at one of our meetings in a library to which he didn't belong. No problem; his card was good there anyway.

Last week I had a meeting with a friend I'm doing some work for. We went to my local library in order to use their wifi which is free to members. It's not just free for members of that library; any library card holder can use it. My friend belongs to another library but that membership allowed him use of the wifi. My work of editing articles on my friend's website just got a whole lot more portable. Maybe as the work increases I'll invest in a dongle but it's not necessary at the moment.

Generally speaking, I tend to find that centralisation can equal rationalisation and/or a cutting back on services. In the case of the one library system, however, I'm all for it. My local suburban library is a hive of busy-ness most of the time. Why wouldn't it be? It has computers, wifi, a toy library, pre-school activities, work tables, puzzles, magazines, newspapers, CDs, DVDs and, of course, books. And whilst it's great to be able to reserve a book from any library, it's equally good to just browse shelves with no specific book in mind until the perfect one leaps out in front of you. It's the best of both worlds for me. The only thing missing is a good cup of coffee to sip on while working or reading there. Other libraries now have cafes near or even inside the building. To be fair, it's really only a short stroll across a car park to the nearest cafe, however.

My writers' group meets at a different branch of the same library. It's the main branch and, when we're there on a Sunday afternoon, it's always crowded.

That all being the case, I think it's unlikely the one library system will jeopardise local branches. Besides, we'll need to collect our reserved books from somewhere, won't we?

Cheers.

Neglecting Near, Nurturing Far

Mother cut her activist teeth in the Civil Rights Movement in the U.S. Deep South in the 1960s. She met all kinds of people and learnt many valuable lessons. It was from those experiences that she developed an intense dislike for activists who treat individuals badly. She firmly believed that it was the height of hypocrisy to march for better rights and conditions for people and then treat a checkout operator with disdain and condescension or cheat on your spouse or beat your kids, whatever. I’ve certainly met some of those people and I share Mother’s dislike. Yesterday, however, I was one of those people. It’s all very well to sit at the computer and write what I hope are eloquent blogs or shop with the Ethical Consumer Guide in my hand but I left my grumpy footprints across Teenage Son’s psyche yesterday. Compassion did not begin at home.

On my behalf, it was always going to be a tough day. I had a lot to do, was suffering from hormonal grumpiness and hormonal insomnia which was exacerbating the grumpiness and Teenage Son was having braces put on. I try to look after myself to avoid such situations but hormonal insomnia only lasts a week or so and there’s not much I can do about it. Unfortunately, I’m like a cantankerous toddler when I’m overtired.

Teenage Daughter couldn’t wait to have braces to close a gap between her front teeth. We always told Teenage Son he wouldn’t need them since he had straight teeth. Famous last words. A quirk of nature meant that one of his adult canine teeth ended up sitting crooked in the gum and wouldn’t come down. All because of that, he’s had to have the baby canine removed, his gum opened and a chain attached to the adult tooth. Now braces are holding the other teeth in place and encouraging the adult canine to grow and to do so straight.

Teenage Son is a very good trumpet player; more than that, he’s a passionate trumpet player and it defines who he is. When we arrived home yesterday, Teenage Son was understandably on a downer. His mouth was aching and his tone on the trumpet was not up to its usual standard. As a lay person, I thought it still sounded very good but he’s a perfectionist and was well aware of the difference. He and I were alone in the house together so I was the person he took his anger and frustration out on.

I’ve become fairly adept at shielding myself from teenage angst and not personalising it. Not so yesterday. First, there was the low-level complaining. I tried soothing and placating. That made things worse so I tried just listening but was then told I was ignoring him. My back began to get up. Eventually, I shouted. I can’t even remember what the trigger was or what I said. What I can remember, however, is his face as I did so and the way I felt inside, even as I did it.

Almost as soon as I’d finished I apologised. Of all the times to yell, it had to be when he needed to be strongly nurtured. I think mothers often feel too much guilt but I’m wearing and claiming every ounce of guilt I feel on this one. We were fine later - he even teased me about it in front of his sister – but I think neither of us will forget it in a hurry.

Today was a nurturing day for both of us. Teenage Son stayed home from school, the pain rendering him unable to eat or concentrate, even with analgesics. I only did the red star things on my to-do list, spending time instead with Teenage Daughter who had a late start at uni and Teenage Son when he eventually emerged from the fog of sleep. I tempted him with porridge and milkshakes which he devoured and we just sat and chatted or watched his favourite show together.

I still feel ragged, having not slept well again last night but the low-key day helped a lot. I don’t feel as if I’m going to burst into tears or yell at the slightest provocation anymore. One blogger I follow wrote some time ago that sometimes we need to think of ourselves as toddlers and nurture ourselves accordingly. Ie. “Rachel gets grumpy when she’s overtired.” Maybe I should have made yesterday one of those days when I only do red star things. I didn’t know until I snapped at my son, however, how fragile I was feeling. Maybe I need to be proactive when I’m overtired and assume I need nurturing.

What about teenagers? If my son had been a toddler I would have given him paracetamol immediately, fed him a soft lunch and tucked him in for a nap. The fact that he slept thirteen hours last night speaks volumes about his own tiredness. He’s not a toddler and he’s at an age where he is determined to assert his independence. Furthermore, I don’t have a monopoly on hormonal grumpiness; he’s fourteen years old. All I could see yesterday, however, was one angry kid pushing my buttons.

Today, Teenage Son fluctuated between cheerfulness and anger. The difference was that I was able to deflect and nurture, almost wiping away the grumpy footprints from yesterday. Now I feel like I can campaign on behalf of others again.

Cheers.