I wish I could just *bleep* my eco blunders from my life. But I can’t. Instead, I’ve decided to confess a couple to you in an effort to free myself of the haunting guilt.

The local Thai restaurant knows us by name (prior to my husband’s layoff just over a year ago, take-out Thai was a weekly routine). It will come as no surprise that each take-out meal is packed into individual plastic containers–styrofoam (double-cringe) for the appetizers, which they insist on including free (we are very grateful for their generosity)– then loaded up in a plastic bag fully equipped with utensils and napkins.

Where do they think we’re taking this? Some deserted road where utensils and napkins can’t be found for miles? It’s not their fault–it is the take-out tradition.

Over time, these very kind people learned that a “Hass” order meant no rice, no utensils, no napkins and absolutely no plastic bag. Certainly less impactful; HOWEVER, the plastic containers make me feel as though I’m committing eco-sacrilege. At least the containers our Thai restaurant use are recyclable, but wasteful all the same.

And what if they leach the hormone-disrupting plastic chemical bpa into our food?

Multiply our take-out by the millions of orders that probably occur in a day, and you’ve got quite a heap of plastic, much of which is not recyclable. And if it is recyclable, there’s no guarantee it’s tossed into the recycle bin. Each time I picked up the order, I vowed to myself–and affirmed to my husband and son–that I would bring our own glass food storage containers for them to use. It took a while for me to finally remember to put in this special request which was, I think, a first for the restaurant. Quite possibly, it was the most ridiculous request they’d ever heard. I had to repeat myself several times before they got it. “I’ll come before it’s ready,” I explained. “Uh, okay… come in twenty minutes,” was their response as I imagined them pouring the contents out of their plastic containers into our reusables back in the kitchen, giving the cooks a “don’t ask” look. I struggled to get into and out of the car with four glass containers–all different sizes–only to find the order ready-to-go, stapled shut in a paper bag, upon my arrival. The last time I remembered to make this special request, the same thing happened.

Oh well.

Then there’s the drive-thru ice cream place. While my husband and son prefer a shake or root beer float (plastic cup and straw alert!) I’m a cone-kind-of-gal. But even the cone comes standard with a plastic spoon. I got into the habit of requesting no spoons, napkins or straws (we have reusable glass straws) when, suddenly, they presented my cone in a plastic cone holder/drip collector. An upgrade from the previous paper cone sleeve. I’m convinced the cone manufacturer came up with this novel idea as an additional revenue stream, possibly even creating the need by making waffle cones with holes at the bottom. You can’t even imagine the response I got the next visit when I said, “Hold the cone drip whatchamacallit.” Hesitation. “But it comes with it.” “I don’t want it.” “O-kay-ay,” the girl said in a you-are-crazy-lady tone. Of course, it dripped out of the bottom, as promised.

Luckily, both of these joints are within a mile from home, so the impact isn’t as bad as it could be. When I drive-thru, I shut off the motor while waiting for the order. Ahhh. I feel a little better now. A quote by Theodore Roosevelt–our first conservationist president–makes me feel even better: “Do what you can, with what you have, where you are.”

Article courtesy of myEARTH360.com

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