The STUFF Sisters - Environment

Quote Me

Sometimes, you just gotta put words together until they fit perfectly to your environment, emotions and life.

This week was a whirlwind. Casey and I kept many meetings outside the store. We volunteered, dined and visited with many people beyond the limits of our store. At each event, I found myself mesmerized by what people said when describing their work world and lives.

“penalty kick shoot out”

“swells & riptides”

“warm, white box”

“work & turn”

“own a niche”

“blow smoke up myself”

I know Casey and I speak a language unique to our industry, yet I can’t think of one phrase as I write this. When we were political consultants, everything was an acronym: RON (rest over night), PDQ (pretty damn quick), FYI (for your information). Some were even more specific to clients and jobs. Again, they escape me.

But one quote I will never forget – spoken just between Casey and me in private until right now – and that makes me laugh all these years later is “monumental crap shit fest”.

Sometimes, you just gotta put words together until they fit perfectly to your environment, emotions and life.

You can quote me on that.

Photo: My desk today. I surround myself with quotes and images at work. Not surprisingly, my most packed board on Pinterest is called “Saying Something”. Quote, quote and more quotes.

A Day Dream Made of Glass

I was shelling on a beach yesterday. I kept finding bits of plastic – a lid, part of a pail, a grocery sack – and it struck me, what would happen

I was shelling on a beach yesterday. I kept finding bits of plastic – a lid, part of a pail, a grocery sack – and it struck me, what would happen if manufacturers woke up one day and stopped making plastic items? Just simply stopped.

I am pretty sure that the world would not come to its demise. Actually, it may even slow our demise. Although the reports I read tell a grim tale of how it is too late.

I like my food, drinks and such in glass. It seems more civilized somehow. But, I am bit old fashioned.

It was a passing day dream. I kept walking in the waves picking up gifts of nature that I collect, take home and sort into glass jars.

PS. Any item needed in the medical world made from plastic makes sense. But, prescription bottles could be glass.

PPS. I have stated very clearly that when I die my shell collection should be returned to Mother Ocean (after my daughter chooses what to keep of course).

Peace In The Noise

Yesterday I pretty much lost it at the intersection of 47th and Main Street. Yes, it was rush hour. Yes, it’s a busy intersection. Yes. Yes. Yes. Whatever.

Yesterday I pretty much lost it at the intersection of 47th and Main Street. A gaggle of geese decided to cross the busy intersection. And they were doing a darned fine job of staying within the cross walk, if the painter of said lines had been into jaywalking. They were lovely and in lockstep with their mission.

Some jerk – several, in fact – decided they didn’t have time to wait for them to finish crossing and proceeded with the lights to curve tightly around the birds. The birds just stood still until they had passed and started walking again. No squawking. No flight. No bird hurt.

Just me in my car fighting back tears that could not be contained. Yes, it was rush hour. Yes, it’s a busy intersection. Yes. Yes. Yes. Whatever. This was a chance for everyone within eyesight to take a moment, watch nature overcoming engineering, and wait for the magic to end.

Yes. I know this is an owl in a geese story. Casey and I spotted it less than an hour after I sat in peace with the geese. Look at how peaceful.

I have stated before, in older blogs, that I do not condone driving and crying. It’s dangerous. So I kind of stopped crying when it was time to press on the pedal, but several tears wouldn’t stay lidded up. They needed to finish, and it gave me time to process where these emotions in me were coursing from.

I work hard. Most people do. I work – and play – at a speed that thrills me. Most people do. However, I am embracing more and more the peace that can be found in the noise. When a funeral procession is moving toward me, I pull over and live in the peace of a few minutes remembering those in my life who have been escorted in darkened and cooled hearses. When an ambulance is roaring behind me, I pull over and remember a sister whose last ride was in a brightly lit boxy vehicle manned by professionals.

And when geese cross the road – the road that is leading me to my work and all that my life has in store for me – I stop and wonder at the beauty and power of slow, precise footfalls.

I am beginning to find more peace in the noise and live in it. Yesterday I did so for as long as it took for my feathered friends to get to greener grass. Funny, we were headed for the same thing.

Unemployable

I have reached an age where I know for a fact that technology is outpacing me. As my husband and sister read this, they are cackling because I am the least tech-savvy and tech-interested person in their families.

I have mentioned to friends and strangers that one of the deep-seated reasons I support the Women’s Employment Network is because I am convinced that I am going to have to utilize their amazing services if this dream business I share with my sister ever fails. The main reasons: I really don’t know how to make a PowerPoint display, and I can get easily tripped up on implementing calculations in Excel. Clearly, I will need to be trained for today’s workforce.

Unemployable in today’s society. That’s me.

Thank the goddess I am an entrepreneur.

September starts our busiest four months of the year at STUFF. Right now, I am buried up to my eyeballs in paper, cardboard, pricing labels and spreadsheets. Casey, my partner in crime, is buried in artist product, display ideas, and training of current employees and possible new hires. It is a killer month that we love…and live through.

Last month in New York, on our morning walk to work, I saw two men sorting – by color! – empty glass bottles. The street on which they had set up shop was closed due to the construction of a new subway stop. They had found a tree for shade and were color-sorting glass and stacking it. The sound of their endeavors caught me first and found me fumbling for my camera. Not only were they helping to save the planet, they were working quickly and efficiently in a makeshift work environment. What the end result of their work was, I do not know and did not ask.

My mind raced to these images yesterday when I had set up a work station for myself on three cardboard boxes right outside my office door and was holding the papers from blowing in the fan with a tack into the cardboard. An hour later, I thought of those men as my sister climbed the stairs with her hand drill, cell phone, stuffed file folder, and cup of iced coffee. She, too, was setting up shop and getting to work where she needed to be, which was not at her desk.

She amazed me because she had brought her phone to work. Mine? Well, mine was way over there next to the keyboard of my computer, being charged. Someone had forgotten to charge it over night. Understandable. She must have been really busy.

p.s. These men had me mesmerized. Look at how tidy their work space is. The boxes are lined up perfectly and practically squared to the curb. Right there on 35th Street just west of 9th Avenue.

Addiction and Plastic

There are many things I have slowly given up over time. Diet Coke. Peanut M&Ms. High fructose corn syrup. Some have been easy to let go of, and others, well, others can haunt me and rear their ugly little addicting heads. It is still hard not to want an icy Diet Coke at the movie theater, and I will be honest: I haven’t completely kicked the M&Ms. A bowl of the colorful happiness at a party will find my hand. However, I no longer purchase these items for personal consumption.

I digress. This story was to be about my current fascination with Iced Black Tea from Starbucks and my reuse of their trenta-sized cup. I believe reuse is the best of “The Three R’s” – reduce, reuse and recycle. If you are already reducing your usage, then reusing what you do have before recycling it is the pinnacle, for me anyway.

My husband and I have been recycling in our home for over 20 years. When we bought our first “home”, our loft downtown, one of the first things we designed into the kitchen was our recycling center. I have written previous blogs about our recycling commitment at home, my business has a full page on our website dedicated to our Green Policies, and – again last week – my husband and I drove our recycling through seven states to be able to get it into the correct bin. I like to think our fervor makes us committed to the cause, not crazy. Fine line, I suppose.

My new love – addiction, if you must – of iced black tea is probably the caffeine. I have never been a coffee drinker, but I did consume gallons of Diet Coke for years and years. It propelled me through my career in politics and pushed me right into entrepreneurship with my sister.

A year ago, I felt like I needed a little something to jump start my day again, with Diet Coke now 10 years behind me. At first I thought it was mental – this is my response to most things bordering on addiction – and that I needed to ignore it and move along. And I did just that for years. I have always had a lifelong love of iced water – and continue to drink major amounts of it daily – but it just seemed like my taste buds and my energy system wanted more.

But how do I balance my desire to save Mother Earth by consuming less while ordering iced teas in plastic cups? Even the little #6 in the cutie triangle telling me the cup was recyclable didn’t make my use of it justified. I need to use less plastic everyday. Every. Single. Day.

Then I found out I could re-use my cup at Starbucks – and they will give you money off for doing so! – and that changed everything. I am currently reusing a cup I got four weeks ago. My promise to Starbucks and my local barista is that I will not let the cup get junky looking or stained. I rinse it constantly and wash it occasionally, and I am still reusing the original lid and straw. (I even put my own iced tea from home in it when time is of the essence.)

I have managed to find a way to manage my current addiction with my desire to be one of the people to slowly change the world.

It took me a while. But I got there.

p.s. When ordering iced black tea in the South – let’s say on vacation driving through Florida, Georgia and Tennessee – be prepared to answer the question, “Do you want it sweetened?” more than once. They really, really love their sweet tea and looked at me like the Yankee I am when my answer was repeatedly, “No thank you.”

p.s.s. You can only reuse your cup if you go to a counter at Starbucks. My advice: don’t attempt this move when they are super-swamped. I am not a “rush hour” tea drinker, so this has worked out for me really, really well.

Natural State

Yesterday I re-entered my natural state. I woke up, left my pajamas on the hook, and took off into a world I love. The one where my swimsuit is the main mode of clothing.

Several weeks ago, my best friend texted and briefly stated that she had just encountered the smell of Coppertone and was transported back to our summers as pre-teens, teens, co-eds, working women, young mothers and working mothers. I have never known a summer without the brown bottle. And anything banana-flavored has never touched my skin. I don’t even like banana candy, although I like bananas.

My dermatologist and I look at my largest organ in depth every year. My addiction to the sun has lessened as my age has increased. However, my yearning to live full days in Lycra and spandex fully coated in Coppertone has not abated. Good thing we’re supposed to wear sunscreen in the shade.

I live my dream every summer vacation by waking much as I did yesterday: shedding my PJs for my swimsuit and then spending the day moving through activities lightly clothed. A worn-in Oxford cloth dress shirt with the arms rolled way up is my ultimate cover-up. In our little corner of Florida, this passes as more than acceptable for restaurant dining. I shower long after the sun has gone down and move swiftly back into my cotton sleepwear. Never a bra or panties in sight. Never a long sleeve, hem or button to fence me in. Although, I do admit to window shopping on my favorite 7 best websites to buy sheer and see through lingerie but only at night when I couldn’t sleep, in bed, waiting for sleep.

She took me to the pool yesterday, my best friend, for the first time this year. This may well be a record. So late in “the season” for my inaugural walk into cool water. I am grateful and happy for her invitation, and the lingering aroma of our amazing friendship was with us the whole time. In my pool bag. Just waiting for me to un-cap it and let the memories overwhelm me.

Every boat dock, sun deck, beach chair, over-sized towel and speedboat returned to me. Every sun hat, pair of sunglasses, T-shirt, flip-flop and tote roared at me. My newborn son seeing pool water three months after his birth. My Dad skiing behind our boat. My Mom judging our dives from the edge of our pool. My sister holding her breath and my hands while we attempted “butt bumpers” for the one millionth time.

All this in one little bottle.

p.s. I mean no disrespect to anyone who wears Banana Boat lotions or eats those delightful banana flavored Laffy Taffy.

coppertone girl — This is the little girl I grew up with.

Moving Inside

Just two or three days ago, I moved the geraniums from their roost outdoors to their winter home indoors. I never thought I would be one of those people who harbor plants indoors, but I can’t break myself of this color.

I can’t imagine why.

They spent the winter with us indoors last year and brightened the days. Especially the days I spent in the kitchen at the table near them. Slippers on. Magazines at the ready. Child and husband still sleeping. The light flooded in from the south and made the pinks pinker. Or maybe that was just my mood adjusting.

These photos were taken in June before the summer battled them into not blooming much until late August. Both of us tired and fatigued, I watered them and waited. They gave me a grand fall, and I look forward to a bright winter.

If you have a summer favorite you bring indoors, I’d love to hea

In a few of these anecdotes, the telescope saw limited initial use and then it was simply incorporated into the home’s décor—gathering dust in a corner. It became obvious to me that what the family could have benefited from more would have been a spotting scope. And, in all of the cases, the spotting scope wasn’t even on the purchase radar. By default, everyone thinks the telescope is the best way to explore the heavens and it truly is, but the spotting scope presents a great and versatile alternative. Let’s look at the buying choices between spotting scopes and telescopes so that, if you are in the market for yourself, the family, or a space-exploring enthusiastic youngster, you can get something that everyone will enjoy and something from which all will enjoy a great deal of use.

Before we dive in: if you arrived here knowing you want a telescope, but are unsure what type to get, click on over to our telescope buying guide and enjoy the view!

TL;DR
Spotting scopes offer unmatched versatility and durability for primarily terrestrial viewing (think birding) and some astronomical viewing, here you can get the best spotting scope under 500. Telescopes give you a superior view of the heavens, but are less portable, less durable, and slightly more difficult to use than a spotting scope.

Portability
While there are certainly small and portable telescopes, the spotting scope is relatively lightweight and designed for use in the field. Many come with “C-thru” cases (or they are available separately) that protect the scope’s body from wear and scratches while allowing you to use the scope, try the best spotting scope under 300. Larger telescopes can be boxed up and taken out into a dark sky area—often the big telescopes will be transported in two or three separate boxes—they are definitely not designed around portability in the same way a spotting scope is designed.

r about it.

Big Trees are Magic

Friday morning I sat on my back deck and looked for places to plant a tree on our postage stamp lot in mid-town.

Friday morning I sat on my back deck and looked for places to plant a tree on our postage stamp lot in mid-town. Mowing takes our son all of 15 minutes – front and back – because trees, bedding and produce gardens dot the property. Grass is not our top producer of mulch. Leaves are.

We live with three large trees. Trees that tower over the house, and the house stands at three stories tall. Majestic specimens all: oak, maple and hackberry. Mature trees. Trees that knock our use of air conditioning back a bit. I have told my husband many times that when even one of these trees leaves us, I’m calling the movers.

In the last week, two different neighbors have cut down same-size trees. Big ones. Upon seeing their removal – even if watching tree removal after a storm actually, my chest got tight. My palms ached a bit and I beat back tears. I have yet to dig down too deep on these physical reactions to loss to understand myself. Maybe I don’t want to. All I know is that within 24 hours of the second loss I was sitting and looking at my yard, thinking about planting a tree. I felt we needed another. Not we the people in my house, but we the planet.

I guess I’m a tree hugger. Big trees are magic to me. I can remember lying under the huge oak at one of my childhood homes. If offered a wide and dense canopy. I would look up and I was protected by a big green tent. If I heard something overhead or wondered about the sky, I would have to get up and walk away from the tree to see anything at all. Hearing was possible; sight was not.

I have spent the years since I was a political consultant trying to beat back agressive or fevered tendencies in my words and actions. I like to think I’ve calmed a bit. But on the issue of trees, knee jerk reactions are clearly on the rise.

Sow

As part of our spring break and in honor of the lovely spring weather we have in Kansas City right now, my daughter and I planted a handful of seeds.

We were on an outing to get a gasket for our stove – which they didn’t have – and found ourselves shopping the spring seed displays. I picked up three packets. She picked up two.

When it was time to check out, she said she wanted to buy the two packets she picked with her own spring break money.

While driving home, I explained that the seeds would grow perennial plants and explained what that meant. Her response was, “That is amazing. I bought more than one plant that will come back every year for only two dollars and thirty seven cents. Now, that was a good way to spend my money.”

I think we planted more than a handful of seeds.

Every Little Bit Helps

I am patting Office Depot on the back big time.

I am patting Office Depot on the back big time. At a time when the Earth’s going a bit crazy with dramatic weather tantrums and clearly pointing fingers at the humans who brought on the global warming, Office Depot sends us our order in a bag. Rock on!

For years they have sent us our toner cartridges and other items that can’t be found at my neighborhood store in too huge boxes filled with packing – bubble wrap, air pillows, etc. It was a terrible waste, even though STUFF reclaimed and recycled every piece of it. But now, welcome to the new delivery vehicle.

I’m lovin’ them.

Sloane