Please Happy

This is a real conversation I had with a fellow masters student today during a break. I was talking to S about bringing mugs and using water bottles. B, sipping Gatorade, chimed in:

B: I drink three of these a day and I’m not sure what to do with them.
Me: [laughs.]
B: [doesn't laugh.]
Me: Wait, are you serious?
…

S: Recycling is getting really big in California.

Me: Wait, what? Whadda you mean “getting really big?” Isn’t already something everyone does?

B: Outside of big cities, no.

Me: Did you go to college?

B: Yeah, I went to college.

Me: Well, I’d recommend recycling that when you’re done. [Then, class started...]

B: We’ll see.

After class, I apologized for my emotional reaction. I told B I’d take the bottles off his hands every day if he means to throw them away. I apologized again, and said I was distraught to hear that an educated person didn’t participate in such a seemingly easy thing. That, if we, as now-academics don’t recycle, who will?

A good lesson in being mindful of my speech, being more graceful.

He said he just started recycling and also just started bringing his own bag to Trader Joe’s.

“That’s great,” I said. “What made you change?”

His answer: “Peer pressure.”

The other students in the Specialized Journalism program are rad. One guy is taking a break from his reporting job at the Washington Post, another woman is an anchor at CBS, another woman worked as a science reporter at Public Radio International. I’m impressed. And, a little intimidated.

Weird thing is, I am the only one who stood up and said I wanted to study Sustainable Cities, environmental issues, Earthy stuff. And, I was the only one who ate my breakfast on a napkin instead of the provided Styrofoam plates. And the only one with a mug.

Clearly, my first assignment is to encourage Annenberg to ditch the ‘foam. (They do have recycling bins, so that’s a start.)

My favorite quote from yesterday came from my new friend, D, who writes about Dancing with the Stars for TV Guide. She saw the mug covered in stickers.

“Are you green?” she said. “I just knew you were green. That is so cool!”

Walked to the Jackson Hole Farmers Market today. My first and last trip this season.

En route, a bounding black lab rushed over to me. Gorgeous dog.

Said hi to his human and kept going.

Man, then, stopped me: Excuse me.

I turned around.

Me: Yeah? (I had just woken up, and still felt a little dazed.)

Man: I’m wondering if you’re in a position to meet someone new.

Wow. The Most Classy line I’ve ever heard. Obviously a nice guy.

I said I wasn’t, but asked his name (B.) and introduced myself, shook his hand, and went to market.

Thank you, B. For being classy and open and brave. And for paying me such a compliment first thing in the morning. I hope that line works on someone special for you!

(At the market, I bought beets, onions, spring mix, spinach, kale, cilantro, garlic, cherries and raspberries, blueberries and blackberries. The berries are already gone.)

The pic is of C’s basket.

Driving to Calico for dinner with A., age 6, talking about how long well we know each other.

Me: I’ve known you since you were three!

A: That’s a long time. And, why is your hair so tangled tonight?

Me: Because I drive with the windows down. My air conditioning is broken.

A: You should get it fixed.

Me: It cost too much money to fix. And, I don’t really mind. It’s not that hot here anyway.

[Pause. Lots of thinking going on in the backseat.]

A: I have a good idea for you. You know what you should do?

Me: What?

A: Pull out one of your teeth and put it under your pillow. The tooth fairy will leave you money.

And then you can fix your car.

Been thinking about and encountering bees lately. Here’s today’s report.

1. On the way down Teton Pass this afternoon, a giant bee hit me in the upper eyelid, lower eyebrow. Surprisingly, it left no gutty skid marks.

2. My partner, A., got hit by a bee, too. Same ride. Stung in the mouth. Going 30 mph!

3. F. (age 3), told me that bumble bees try to be nice. We sat on the porch, playing catch with a balloon. Beezzz buzzed by.

Bumble bees want to be nice. And they are. They won’t sting you if you just look at them. The only times they sting you are when you try to grab them. Or, when you step on them. Or, when you put them in your mouth. So, don’t catch them or walk on them. Or try to eat them. ‘Cause you’ll be stinged. They like when people look at them. And they like looking at us.

Tonight, F and I got ready for bed in her parents’ bathroom. I was at the sink, she was sitting on the toilet talking to me from the potty alcove. We had each just eaten four of the delicious double-double (quadruple?) chocolate (gluten-free, dairy-free) cookies we had made earlier.

F, from the toilet: When are you going to get a baby in your belly?
Me: I’m not sure. When do you think I should?
F: After you get married.
Me: And when should that happen?
F: Depends who you’re getting married with.
[Pause. Sitting, legs dangling, looking at knees.]
F: Well, I’m going to visit you in California.
But, I can’t stay long because all my cousins will miss me.
[Pause. Looks down again.]
F: Nothing’s coming out.
[Hops off the toilet, and walks toward her room, bottomless in a t-shirt.]