Yesterday was going well. Quiet, sunny, sort of warmish. I woke up, promptly put on my glasses, grabbed the book on my nightstand and started to read. I lay in bed until approximately 12:30, until I had finished the book. What, you ask? The 100 Mile Diet, by Vancouver authors Alisa Smith and J. B. MacKinnon. Yes, it was that riveting, and it convinced me even further that eating locally, supporting your local farmers and relishing in the bounty of each season is truly the way to go. Plans are underway for me to start the diet in the coming weeks.
After I finished reading, I showered, did my hair and makeup, and then my best friend called. It was her birthday (I knew that) and did I want to meet her just up the street for a pedicure? Sure, why not. I put on a white eyelet sundress, my flip flops and headed out. As soon as I got outside the sky opened. By the time I got to the salon, I wasn't more wet than if I had just taken a shower fully clothed. My dress was plastered to my legs, my hair was plastered and dripping, and the poor Vietnamese salon workers did not know what to do with me.
The pedicure was nice - I had never had a pedicure with a girlfriend before, and I have to say it was a lot of fun. But as I sat there, I realized not only how bad this, and most all salon services, are for the environment. I didn't need a pedicure - my feet are in great shape and I had just cut my toenails last week. I have to admit that feet in general are not attractive, but they are much improved with nail polish. But couldn't I do that at home? Without all the scented soaking, the hot towel massage and the gritty goo? (In case you can't tell, I'm not a girly-girl, and I get nervous when fussed over.) And couldn't I find a natural nail polish and polish remover? A quick scan on goodsearch.com revealed that yes, these products do exist, and are available online and in some local natural stores.
So if the beautification of my toenails becomes a priority, I can do it without hurting the planet. But really, until then, I can live without pedicures. Because I have more important things to do like griping at smokers who litter.
This is a huge peeve of mine, and honestly, it never bothered me until I started riding a motorcycle. It irks me to no end when I pull up next to a car and the driver oh-so casually drops their still smoldering butt out the car window, inches from where I am, with no consideration for me or the planet. Thus, I am declaring war on smokers who litter.
I have never smoked, never tried, and have no desire to. I have no idea what it is like to have a chemical dependence on a substance, but I do know that dependence or no, that doesn't mean you have to litter your ashes and butts. People standing outside of buildings are one thing - most buildings provide some sort of receptacle, and people generally use it for their butts. But cars are built with ash trays! Use them! Littering your ashes and butts tells me that not only do you not care about the planet, but you are too damn lazy to use/empty your own ashtray and you expect others to clean up after you. Or maybe you aren't even thinking about all that stuff, because you are too concerned with looking cool, talking on the phone, eating or any number of other things.
Some appalling data on cigarette litter. Yes, this website is old, but you get the idea.
So. The next time I see someone littering a cigarette product of any kind, they will know the gentle chiding cum vengeful wrath of penguin.
I really hope I don't get beat up.