Photo by distinguish, under a Creative Commons license

(Part of my Green This House program.)

It was time to put my money where my mouth was: My workplace 401(K) plan didn’t leave me much room to maneuver choice-wise—although I consciously avoided any funds that paid out Exxon—plus, I wanted to put some extra coinage towards a cushy retirement. That’s where socially responsible investing (SRI) came in. Co-op America defines SRI as a way of “integrating your personal, social, and environmental concerns with your financial considerations,” so that your investments have a “positive impact on people and the planet.” In other words, stocks with scruples.

Below the fold is a list of funds I sent my financial-wiz father-in-law before we narrowed down our options and signed me up for a spanking new Roth IRA. (Remember, kids, it’s never too early to start saving for your retirement.) It’s by no means exhaustive, but it’s a start if you want to use that cash under your mattress for the common good and sock away some tidy profits. Learn more about SRI here and here.

Click here for more »

Photo from Amazon.com

(Part of my Green This House program.)

I picked up Pangea Organics’ Pyrenees Lavender with Cardamom Hand & Body Lotion a while ago to quell the complaints of my thirsty winter skin. (I never got around to whipping up my own.) Although somewhat pricey at $15.99 for 8 oz.—compared with, say $5.99 for 18 oz. of something in its class by St. Ives—the moisturizer gets a low hazard score of 0.3 by the Environmental Working Group, while St. Ives’ range of bath and body products get hazard scores ranging from a moderate 1.6 to a danger-danger-Will-Robinson 4.1, likely because of potentially cancer-causing parabens and other chemicals I have trouble pronouncing. (Pangea says it never uses petrochemicals, synthetic ingredients, sulfates, detergents, dyes, or artificial fragrances in its products.)

The calming lavender scent is pleasing without being cloying; the spicy upper notes of cardamom—a scent chai-lovers will instantly recognize—though sharp, never veer into becoming pungent. Made with mostly organic ingredients, the lotion doesn’t dry as sticky as Farmaesthetics’ Nourishing Lavender Milk ($25 for 8 oz.) does, but it’s also not as emollient, which means ultradry skin may prefer to go with Farmasethetics’ lotion.

Pangea rather vaguely states it is “cruelty-free,” but doesn’t carry the little leaping-bunny logo on its products, so it’s hard to tell what it’s animal-testing policies are. I e-mailed the company and was told that it doesn’t test on animals, but frequently tests on its own (human) staff, instead. I’d still like to see the leaping bunny make an appearance, however, to remove any lingering edge of doubt from that nondescript phrase.

An eco-friendly piece of trivia: According to the company’s Web site, Pangea’s bodycare products, once applied, start biodegrading in 48 hours, while other conventional products that contain chemical-foaming agents can take closer to 200 years to break down. That’s just not cool.

(Part of my Green This House program.)

This is a common lure that printer manufacturers use on unsuspecting consumers—sell the hardware below market value (even if it means losing money), then rake in a continuous stream of profits through consumables such as toner and ink. In fact, the Wall Street Journal says that Hewlett-Packard makes more than two-thirds of its profits selling printer cartridges. (An average of 1.3 billion ink cartridges are sold each year, generating $30.1 billion in revenue in 2005.) Considering a color ink cartridge for my el cheapo $50 HP Deskjet costs over $20 and a black one $18, is it any wonder that cartridge-refill services are gaining in popularity, despite the obvious ire of companies such as HP and Lexmark?

My dad and I don’t have a lot in common—I’m still working on getting him to give up his SUV—but one trait solidifies our genetic bond: we’re both extremely cheap. He’s such a tightwad, in fact, that he became a stealth greenie entirely by accident, injecting off-brand ink back into his empty cartridges and saving them (and their potential replacements) from landfill purgatory, at 50 percent of the cost. Plus, it isn’t just the cartridges themselves that are an environmental polluter—printer firms have been incorporating small computer chips into their cartridges so that cartridges by other manufacturers can’t be used in a particular brand of printer. The chips also make refilling impossible because they can’t be reset, in a way almost reminiscent of “suicide seeds,” which in turn are such a repugnant idea that a special VIP section in hell has been reserved for the person who first suggested them. (The EU has banned the use of these smart chips.)

Being the klutz that I am, I suspected that DIYing this would render me a walking ink stain, so my little stingy (and hippie) heart leaped when I found out that Walgreens refills your empties. I had my black-ink cartridge pumped back full of ink for a little over $9—half of what HP was going to charge me. Walgreens offers a 100-percent satisfaction guarantee. And if you bring in the little cartridge baggie for reuse the next time you go in, you get 10 free digital photos. (The baggie was further slipped into a cardboard mailer, but I returned it to the guy at the counter for him to reuse.)

Although stories about mixed results abound, after a couple of test prints, I couldn’t tell the difference in quality, but then again, I’m not a stickler.

Other refill-station options include CartridgeWorld and OfficeMax, and if you prefer a more hands-on approach, a Google search will stand you in good stead.

Unless you really have to impress someone with your printouts (I can only think of outgoing docs and the like), use the draft mode on your printer preferences and save yourself some ink and/or toner by making your cartridges last twice or even three times as long. Double-sided printing will also cut down on paper waste, while providing a nice chunk of change over time that you can put to better use. Like catnip.

Photo by Kareem Black/Getty Images

(Part of my Green This House program.)

I make no secret of the fact that the hub, our cat Chekhov, and I live in little more than a glorified closet. A very desirable glorified closet by Manhattan/downtown Jersey City standards, but a constricted padded cell with little room to grow, nevertheless. And so the Great Purge of 2007 came to pass, as we’re struggling to pare down and simplify our external and internal lives to preserve whatever modicum of sanity we have left.

I’ve mentioned my doomed love affair with home-decorating catalogs before, which I put the brakes on this time last year, along with cancellations of as much junk mail I could get through in several determined sittings.

Last night, I sorted through our towering pile of magazines, most of which we have never—and could never—stay on top of before they were exiled to a corner of our living room or relegated to the recycling pile. I realized I needed more signal, less noise, and began striking off magazine subscriptions I could live without, whose pages I knew I’d never revisit. Real Simple took the axe last year, along with Paste and Heifer International’s World Ark. Today, they’re joined by The Herb Companion and Plenty. The hub even cancelled The New York Times, which, much to my consternation, always came in a blue plastic bag. (He can read it online like the rest of us, his snitty wife decided, although he made it clear that you can pry The New Yorker and Time Out New York from his cold, dead hands.)

Remaining subscriptions:

• Country Living
(I really love this magazine)
• Interweave Knits
• Martha Stewart Living
• Natural Home
[Update: Cancelled for the moment]

Online subscriptions, but mostly for access to their archives (tree-free, yay!)

• The Green Guide
• E: The Environmental Magazine

On probation:

• Sierra Club’s Sierra
• The National Resource Defense Fund’s OnEarth

Quality over quantity. More time to savor each page; more signal, less noise—my unintentionally made New Year’s resolution. Bonus: I save some trees (or recycled pulp, as the case may be) and some extra dough I can put towards causes I feel are making a more measurable difference. That or ice-cream. (I make no promises.)

Semi-related: To cannibalize some existing square footage, I’m hauling out the two boxes full of issues of Real Simple I’ve accumulated (I’m such a pack rat) and tearing out, and then filing away, only the articles I want to keep.

Photo by Ryan McVay/Getty Images

(Part of my Green This House program.)

Because I abhor bright light in any setting, I’ve been known to flip the switch and satisfy my latent pyromaniac urges (and send my husband’s fragile masculinity screaming into the distance) by lighting a few scented candles, instead. So woe (GREAT WOE) was the day I discovered that there wasn’t a pillar, tea light, or votive in my apartment that was up to snuff, so to speak.

Most candles are made from paraffin wax, which is, in turn, manufactured from petroleum, and generates carcinogens and soot when burned. According to Greenspace Candles, paraffin candles contain up to 11 carcinogenic compounds considered “toxic air contaminants” by the State of California. It goes on to state:

An air quality researcher, David Krause, has documented evidence that candle soot particles contain many of the same compounds given off from burning diesel fuel.

These health hazards are compounded by synthetic fragrances not meant for combustion, chemical fixatives, synthetic glosses, and dioxin-bleached cotton wicks that contain small amounts of lead. (Chronic low-level exposure to lead has been shown to produce permanent neuropsychological defects and behavior disorders in kids, such as low IQ, short attention spans, hyperactivity, and problems with motor function.)

This doesn’t mean I have to give up my candle-burning extracurricular activity, however. A popular alternative to paraffin is soy wax, which is made from American-grown soybeans (a renewable resource), is biodegradable, and, according to more than one soy-candle maker, supports U.S. farmers instead of “creating further U.S. dependence on foreign oil.”

100 percent soy candles are also said to produce a great deal less soot than their paraffin counterparts (95 percent less by some counts), while burning up to 50 percent longer without any toxic offgassing. Their lower melting point also means a slower and more even scent dispersal.

Beeswax is another option that doesn’t produce soot or toxins when burned. They’re generally more expensive than paraffin candles, but tend to burn longer. You also get the sweet aroma of honey as the candle burns. Awww.

Tip: Be careful when you’re picking up a candle that touts itself as being made from soy or beeswax. Unless it explicitly states that it’s 100 percent composed of that ingredient, your candle could still contain paraffin. (In fact, I’ve seen candles for sale made with soywax and paraffin blends, which I find somewhat perplexing.)

A few soywax brands to check out:
1. Anna Sova Luxury Organics (Candles are poured into 100 percent post-consumer-waste recycled glass)
2. Bluewick (With organic cotton-paper wicks)
3. Greenspace Candles (Wicks made from naturally grown hemp fibers)
4. Kobo Candles
5. Lotion Glow (Doubles as a massage oil)
5. Maddison Avenue
6. Pacifica Candles

Or make your own, yo.

Photo by Julie Toy/Getty Images

(Part of my Green This House program.)

We’ve been trying our darndest, since our decision to live more sustainably almost a year ago, to give waste-free, non-consumerist gifts that were not only carefully chosen with the giftee in mind, but also reflected our values (but hopefully without being sanctimonious or pushy, because no one likes a Smug-a-lot; we have cats for that) Consuming less of everything all year also meant we could afford to spend more on what truly mattered.

Our current tally:

Pop-in-law: My husband’s father originally hails from Pakistan, and so the kids all chipped in for a Pakistan Shelter Kit from Mercy Corps (a Charity Navigator four-star charity) to provide “materials, tools and labor to build cold-weather shelters” for already-poor Pakistani families who were displaced in the crippling 2005 earthquake.

Mom-in-law: A massage session at an organic spa.

My parents: Cash. (We’re Chinese; cashola = LOVE)

My brother: My big bro, who is the proverbial Man Who Has Everything, has long considered the almost-endangered polar bear, with its take-it-easy ‘tude, his totem animal. I thought it only appropriate to make a donation to NRDC Biogem’s polar-bear-conservation efforts, in the face of global-warming pollution, in his name.

The hub: My sweetie gets as pumped up about going to the zoo as your average five-year-old, especially if you gave him a push in the direction of the hippo habitat. For his birthday, he became a member of the Wildlife Conservation Society (a top 10 Charity Navigator charity), which entitles him to free, year-round admission to all of their parks, including the Central Park and Bronx zoos. He also gets to support “300 WCS Conservation projects in over 50 countries that protect wildlife habitats and endangered species.”

Related articles:
1. Simplifying the Holidays
2. Baa Ram Ewe: Gifts From the Farm

Photo by Amy Eckert/Getty Images

(Part of my Green This House program.)

Rainshow’r Shower Head
Mentioned previously here, suffice to say, we love it. The hub marvels at the higher water-jet pressure despite the shower head being lower flow (due to its great many pinhole perforations). I love the pause switch that saves gallons of water during lathering, but doesn’t lose your carefully calibrated balance of hot and cold water. Plus, the dechlorinating filter, which is supposed to last six to nine months for a family of four, can be mailed to a company that will recycle it at the end of its life.

DIY Skin & Hair Care
My skin is so much happier and clearer since I began mixing up my own skin-care products, and the cost savings have been substantial. Plus, everything is completely edible, which is always the safest bet health-wise when you’re debating over what to smear on your face. I don’t even buy commercial hair conditioner at all, now, but prefer a mix of olive oil, lemon juice/apple cider vinegar, and a few drops of tea tree oil. (Occasionally I add an egg yolk.)

Newbie Gardening
I have a wee catnip seedling and an even-more wee lemon balm seedling growing in TerraNotta pots on my windowsill. A broadleaf thyme cutting I planted taught me a hard lesson about misting young leaves in the mid-afternoon and encouraging leaf burn. Poo. Oh well, ever onward, upward. Oh, I also have three lavender seeds in an Earth Plug I’m quite excited about. (Poor hub has to endure my bursts of “Grow For Me” from Little Shop of Horrors because he’s married to a complete ham.) I didn’t get to go to the farm on Sunday because we weren’t able to get a ride, but I’m sure other opportunities will arise (even if I have to put a bell on Chekhov and pretend he’s a cow). Update: Cause of plant death may in fact be Felis cattus. We made a protective cloche out of an empty cider jug.

Cat Litter
Remember our non-sustainable litter box? I finally managed to convince the hub to unplug the beastly thing. Because the corn-based cat litter we use is biodegradable and flushable, it’s easy to just scoop any kitty byproducts when we visit the bathroom and send it whooshing down the toilet. Chekhov sometimes leans over the toilet to watch, a bit aghast. Most notably, our bathroom doesn’t smell as it sometimes did before.

Bamboo Cutting Board
I am absolutely over-the-moon in love with our attractive, functional, and sustainable bamboo cutting board. It really makes it much more of a joy to prepare food on, as silly as it sounds.

Photo by 3R Living

(Part of my Green This House program.)

Even with its nightly spritzing of bacteria-squashing vinegar, a heavily scarred plastic cutting board, with deep grooves aplenty for germs to hide out and conspire, does not a healthy home make.

So off we ambled to 3R Living in Brooklyn to drop off a jarful of dead batteries for recycling—I’m trying to get the hub to switch to less-wasteful rechargeable ones—as well as pick up a long-coveted bamboo cutting board.

Bamboo, a member of the grass family and darling of the tree-hugging set, is a remarkably sustainable, cost effective, and eco-friendly plant with over 1,200 different species in China. According to manufacturer Totally Bamboo, bamboo grows to a “harvestable height between 3 to 4 years, some species growing up to 2 feet per day. It has an extensive root system that continually sends up new shoots, naturally replenishing itself. It does not require replanting, making it one of the world’s most renewable sources.” With a yield 25 times that of timber, along with a tensile strength rivaling steel’s, bamboo is a viable and environmentally savvy alternative to overharvested hardwood.

The U.S. Food and Drug Administration actually recommends preparing food with plastic cutting boards, rather than wooden ones, because plastic is “less porous than wood, making it less likely to harbor bacteria, and easier to clean.” Hey, would the FDA, wielders of the sacred public trust, ever steer us wrong?

Cough.

In 1993, however, microbiologists Dean Cliver and Nese Ak, from the University of Wisconsin’s Food Research Institute, challenged that notion when they intentionally inoculated wooden and plastic boards with organisms such as Salmonella, Listeria, and E. coli, which are common causes of food poisoning. Their results: 99.9 percent of the bacteria died within three minutes on the wooden ones, while the bacteria survived on the plastic boards.

From a New York Times article on the findings:

When contaminated boards were left unwashed overnight at room temperature, bacterial counts increased on the plastic, but none of the organisms could be recovered from the wooden boards the next morning. …

The researchers tested boards made from seven different species of trees and four types of plastic and found similar results: wood was safer than plastic, regardless of the materials used. Thus far, however, the researchers have been unable to isolate the agents in wood that make it so inhospitable to bacteria.

If you’d rather put your faith in the FDA, however, steer your peepers toward these vibrantly patterned boards made from 100 percent post-consumer recycled plastic.

Patrick D. Bird, a professor at the University of Florida’s College of Health and Human Performance cautions that we shouldn’t assume wooden cutting boards will automatically “decontaminate” themselves without human interference, and that any type of cutting board, regardless of material, should be thoroughly scrubbed with soap and hot water.

My pal Juanita and I were having one of those to-and-fro chats on e-mail last night when she mentioned practically fumigating her bedroom with Lysol. I blanched at this, of course, and told her that I preferred disinfecting with white distilled vinegar these days.

You can find straight 5 percent vinegar, which is a natural disinfectant because of its acetic-acid content, easily in the condiments aisle of your supermarket. According to Heinz, as quoted by Care2.com, several studies demonstrate that vinegar kills 99 percent of bacteria, 82 percent of mold, and 80 percent of germs/viruses. (At Care2’s recommendation, I spray my cutting board daily with vinegar and let it sit on the rack without rinsing. You can do the same with the rim of your toilet seat and the inside of your garbage pail.)

Vinegar, according to the Vinegar Institute—admittedly not the most objective of sources, but myriad other sources appear to concur—is also an effective deodorizer, grease- and soap-scum-cutting cleaner, and mineral-buildup dissolver. (Hey it had to be doing something worthwhile to have been a household staple for the last 10,000 years.)

Another favorite technique of mine is using a mixture of 1/4 cup of white distilled vinegar with 2 cups of water to clean mirrors and other glass surfaces—and then wiping it off with scrunched-up newspaper for a streakless, fiberless shine. (Toss the newspaper in with the paper recyclables when you’re done and you have a practically zero-waste affair.)

Over a thousand uses abound at VinegarTips.com, including using vinegar to kill weeds, eliminate ants, and soothe sunburns. Its best features? It’s non-toxic, exudes no chemical fumes, safe around kids, environmentally friendly, and cheap, to boot. The only downside is its sharp characteristic odor, but that dissipates after a while.

Photo by Eco-Me

I’ve written about the importance of making over your home into a chemical-free sanctuary, while sharing some of my own favorite on-the-cheap homemade cleaners that easily trump toxic, immune-system-stressing chemicals any day. (Windex? Buh-bye. Lysol? Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.)

Still, if gathering the necessary supplies is proving inconvenient, or you’re feeling lazy, check out the 100 percent natural DIY kits from Eco-Me, a company that kicked into high gear after the founder’s 36-year-old sister was diagnosed with breast cancer despite no family history of the disease. (“Could my sister’s breast cancer be linked to the pollutants in our environment or toxic chemicals in our homes?” she asked herself.)

For $29.50, you get a home-cleaning starter kit that includes an all-purpose spray cleaner, a wood-polish spray cleaner, a scrub cleanser, spray bottles and other accessories, a microfiber cleaning cloth, a bottle of Eco-Me’s essential oil home blend, and mixing instructions. (You’ll still need to add oil, vinegar, and baking soda to your supermarket shopping list, however.) Your kit comes in a handcrafted, eco-friendly, and recyclable burlap bag. Plus, a percentage of proceeds are donated to charities including The Breast Cancer Fund and Cancer 101. (Refills are also available.)

If you’re a woman over 40, please be sure to ask your doctor about getting an annual mammogram. It may sound scary, but early detection gives us the best chance of fighting a disease. Don’t deprive yourself and those who love you of that opportunity. (You’ll find a trove of resources about breast and gynecologic cancers in the back issues of my former place of employment.)

(Part of my Green This House program.)

I think Chekhov has finally reached a place of spiritual acceptance over the fact that his delicious crap is never coming back. Apparently I’m not the only meanie-butt human can-opener around, because organic pet food sales are growing at nearly three times the rate of organic human food, according to the Organic Trade Association.

“The major problem with the content of conventional pet foods is the use of ‘animal by-products,’ which are low-grade wastes from the beef and poultry industries,” Dr. Andrew Weil tells PlanetSave.com. (Weil is a holistic-medicine advocate who endorses Pet Promise, a line of dry and canned foods for cats and dogs.) He goes on to say on his Web site that “the animals used to make many pet foods are classified as ‘4-D,’ which stands for Dead, Dying, Diseased or Down (disabled) when they arrive at the slaughterhouse. If the meat from an animal is acceptable for human consumption, it likely will not be used for commercial pet food unless you buy products which truthfully state that they use FDA-certified, food-grade meat.”

Translation: Rover and Fluffy get the scraps no human in his or her right mind would deign to touch under normal circumstances.

Weil says that nutrition is just as significant to our animal compadres as it is to us because it’s “one of the most important determinants of health and resistance to disease.” Ideally, he says, we should be feeding our pets meat, poultry, and fish of a similar quality to what we would eat. For optimum nutrition, their chow should be “raised in sustainable, humane ways without added drugs and hormones, and with quality grains, fats and macronutrients.”

What is organic or natural pet food, anyway? Says PlanetSave.com:

Natural pet foods generally are minimally processed and are preserved with natural substances, such as vitamins C and E. Whereas “natural” is an undefined and unregulated distinction, “certified organic” pet foods must meet strict standards set by the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) that spell out how ingredients must be produced and processed. These standards do not allow the use of pesticides, hormones, antibiotics, artificial preservatives, artificial ingredients or genetically engineered ingredients.

…

Besides pesticides and hormones, natural and organic pet foods are free of other undesirable ingredients such as hair, blood, waste and “meal,” all of which come from the rendered carcasses of livestock animals.

One caveat, though:

Phil Brown, a veterinarian who helped develop the formulas for Newman’s Own Organics pet foods, says “natural” has come to mean that the food is free of chemical preservatives and artificial colors, but does not guarantee that the food is free of pesticides, herbicides or antibiotics.

“Natural pet foods can be good foods, but just how good is up to the company,” he says. “I like organic because it has defined parameters.”

Chekhov may not be a Friskies cat anymore—we feed him PetGuard now¹—but he still loves to cha-cha. (And if he’s good, this hard-nosed vegetarian might buy some organic cage-free chicken and prepare the homemade-cat-food recipe outlined at the bottom of the article.)

¹PetGuard’s antibiotic- and artificial-preservative-free line includes a USDA-organic-certified flavor, Organic Chicken and Vegetables, though not all of its products are certified organic.

Photo by Silvestre Machado/Getty Images

(Part of my Green This House program.)

I’m usually disinclined to order anything off the Internet these days because of the additional fuel and pollution burden this extra route creates, not to mention the typically unecological packaging the product is embalmed in. (Amazon.com, I’m looking at you.) Yet, possibly at this moment, a low-flow dechlorinating shower head that you can pause mid-lather is trucking its way to us from California—a genius of an attachment that has been on my to-buy radar forever. (I’ve been pretty crummy at conserving water in the shower because I’m loathe to “lose my place” once I’ve found the right delicate balance of hot and cold water, which makes me feel like a giant jerkwad.)

An article in Care2.com section on skin-care also had this to say:

“The chlorine in tap water assaults your skin,” [Kat] James [author of The Truth About Beauty: Transform Your Looks and Your Life From the Inside Out] says. It’s irritating, it causes free radical damage, and it destroys the skin-nourishing vitamin E in your body. “A shower-water purifying filter eliminates chlorine and will give you the biggest skin-care bang for your buck,” she says. “You’ll notice changes in your skin that you couldn’t get with even the most expensive product regimen.”

I e-mailed Rainshow’r, the only company I was able to find that manufactured this mystical low-flow, pausable, dechlorinating wonder, to find out if any retailer in my area sold its products. No dice. I had to go the online route.

Then I came across Green Home Environmental Store, an e-tailer based in California that doesn’t have a brick-and-mortar store, or any physical warehouses it keeps stocked. Instead, any goods you order are shipped directly from the vendors. The rationale behind this is, surprisingly, pretty green, which made me take heart in my decision:

Green Home takes the shipping of its products and the impact that we have on the environment quite seriously. When you order from most companies, the product you receive has been shipped twice—once from the manufacturer to the warehouse, and then again from the warehouse to you—and in many cases three times as it is moved from warehouse to warehouse. Green Home’s products are shipped directly. So although there can be an added environmental cost in having two shipments vs. one, Green Home’s model often cancels out—or improves on—existing wasteful shipping processes. Although more than one package may go to you, we saved on multiple shipments having to arrive at a centralized warehouse, where they would perhaps sit on shelves and need to get thrown out, or sent back. Also, we strongly encourage our drop-shippers to use a minimum of packing materials, and always try to sell our products in as large a grouping as possible.

Plus, Rainshow’r claims its shower head will reduce water usage up to 50 percent, and that’s probably not even taking into account the gallons I’ve been wasting while I soap up. So long, shower guilt, hello purdy skin!

(Part of my Green This House program.)

My dear friend Juanita kvetched to me about the cost of natural skin-care products—the kind that’s free of known and suspected carcinogenic, reproductive, and developmental toxins. “I’m not willing to sell my kidney just yet,” she muttered. Well I hear you and raise you a liver, girlfriend, because lordy, peace of mind doesn’t come without some serious kaching. But, being the smart alecky kid that I am, I told her she could save a tidy sum simply by raiding her kitchen cabinet and refrigerator, which works brilliantly for inexpensive and au naturale cleaning liquids, as well. Free yourself from the shackles of the capitalist consumerist machine, I whooped, only partly in jest.

When I found out that a tiny 8 oz. bottle of facial cleaner (with a very low hazard score of 0.3) ran for $15.48, I blanched. Instead, I made my bar of soap pull double duty in the shower for a while. (If it was good enough for our forebears, it’s good enough for me.) Then I came across a recipe for an exfoliating sugar scrub that was simply one-quarter cup brown sugar, one tablespoon of honey, and a teaspoon of apple cider vinegar. I’m not one to gush over skin care, but I did feel inordinately radiant and fresh after I gave it a shot one day.

Apple cider vinegar mixed with some water also works amazingly well as a skin toner. (You just have to get over the smell and tell your spouse to zip it.) It also conditions your tresses beautifully while ridding you of shampoo buildup.

Besides saving you money, homemade skin- and hair-care formulas also dispense with petroleum-based plastic packaging, which does add up, even for the most diligent of tree-huggers. (You might want to invest in a spray bottle or two in the beginning, however. Don’t reuse any containers that were filled with toxic chemicals before. In other words, chuck that used Windex bottle with the recyclables.) You also know exactly what you’re spreading across your skin without having to worry about synthetic additives or shelf-life-prolonging preservatives. And look, Ma, no extra food miles!

Peruse the cornucopia of skin-care recipes here and here. Or just Google “skin care recipes” or similar. Help save the planet, your health, and your pocketbook, while looking BEE-YOO-TI-FUL throughout.

(Part of my Green This House program.)

A couple of years ago, back when sustainability was a catchphrase rather than a household motto, and my lifelong emotional malaise was spiraling ever more downward than usual, we invested in an electric-powered automated litter box to make our lives a little bit easier. Now, of course, it’s become the 800-pound gorilla dogging my ongoing efforts to green our lives, especially considering the litter box uses disposable plastic containers. (Mon dieu!) Despite conventional wisdom that you do WHATEVER THE 800-POUND GORILLA DAMN WELL WANTS, we’ve gone over all our options, including dumping it (waste of money and resources), giving it away (no difference, just palming off our guilt), or simply disconnecting it and using it as a regular, old school poop shack (”That’s just stupid,” said the hub, who lacked the will and I the energy).

Finally, we met ourselves halfway with what I thought to be a decent compromise: Disconnect it for most of the day, flip the switch once after work to clear the byproducts of Chekhov’s daily contemplations, then turn the litter box off again. We also decided to reuse the plastic receptacle instead of tossing it and its hapless successors in the trash every week. The automated litter box wasn’t going to vanish into nonexistence as much as I wished it would, and this way, the hub reasoned, we’d be reducing its ecological footprint—which wasn’t going to be the case if we had given it away—while still reaping its benefits.

At around the same time, a post by Clay and Wattles up north inspired me to do some research on flushable cat litter, since, like most people’s cat overlords’, Chekhov’s pathogen-laced caca ended up in the landfill, where, according to the San Francisco Chronicle, it is “mummified for generations in plastic bags.” From the same story:

“American dogs and cats produce 10 million tons of waste a year, and no one knows where it’s going,” said Will Brinton, a scientist in Mount Vernon, Maine, and one of the world’s leading authorities on waste reduction and composting. “That’s really beginning to be looked at as a nightmare.”

Further investigation led to the discovery that clay litter is strip-mined, an environmentally devastating excavation process. (Merde!) Not only is the clay sediment permeated with carcinogenic silica dust that can coat Chekhov’s little lungs, the sodium bentonite that enables the litter to clump can poison him through chronic ingestion. That’s not the worst of it, according to Care2.com:

Sodium bentonite acts like an expandable cement, which is why these litters should not be flushed: they swell to fifteen to eighteen times their dry size and can be used as grouting, sealing, and plugging materials.

Cats often lick themselves after using the litter box, ingesting pieces of the litter. If litter gets inside them, it expands just as it does in the plumbing.

An article on the sheer nastiness of clumping clay litter had me clutching my kitty to my chest and bawling apologies for endangering him through my ignorance.

Very soon after, we started mixing the naturally clumpable and flushable corn-based World’s Best Cat Litter to Chekhov’s regular litter for a less traumatic transition for our change-adverse cat. World’s Best has no clay, silica, odor-absorbing crystals, or any synthetic additives, and, because it’s produced from corn kernels, Chekhov can ingest it during grooming without any problems. One cat-lover has some reservations about whether the corn is actually organic, however, but she agrees that it is a far safer alternative to conventional litter. (She reviews a multitude of alternative litters here.)

So far, we’ve been very pleased with this litter and Chekhov has taken to it without much fuss. Quite unexpectedly, my asthmatic sister, who is staying with us for the duration of her summer internship, no longer suffers the persistent wheezing she used to during prior visits. In fact, I don’t think I’ve seen her whip out her inhaler even once. I guess the proof, as they say, is in the pooping.

(Part of my Green This House program.)

As I mentioned in a much earlier post, I went with Aubrey Organics’ Primrose & Lavender Scalp-Soothing Shampoo instead of my conditioner’s matching shampoo because the latter garnered a much higher hazard score on the Environmental Working Group’s Skin Deep site. (Aubrey’s shampoo scored a low 0.4 compared to Avalon’s 1.0.) Neither of them challenged my immune system as much as my original shampoo, Aussie Moist Shampoo for Dry/Damaged Hair, did, however. The thuggish purple kangaroo was slapped with a staggering 2.4 hazard rating.

Aubrey Organics’ alternative doesn’t come cheap—at $9.99 for 11 oz., it costs almost four times as much as Aussie’s shampoo. It is, however, all natural and biodegradable, and won’t end up killing you, which, really, is all I ask of my hair-care products. (That and no fraternization with the man products across the tub, because that’s just a slippery slope to cats and dogs living together, and what kind of society would we be living in, IF you can call that living?) One minor quibble: the shampoo doesn’t lather up as much as other frothy concoctions do, which took some getting used to.

You do experience the scalp-soothing tickle the fresh, aromatic shampoo promises, however, if nowhere near the epic OMIGODTHEBURNTHEBURN proportions of certain antidandruff shampoos. It also cleans without stripping your hair of all its oils, leaving a healthy sheen that persists on days you don’t wash your hair, except you won’t look like you just dipped your head into an oil vat. (Unless you’re like me and have been using apple cider vinegar as a rinse, in which case you’ll just smell like you made a wrong turn at a salad bar.)

I wish Aubrey Organics jazzed up their brand identity and packaging a great deal more—but that’s just my shallow art-brain talking.

Photo by the Illinois Department of Natural Resources

(Part of my Green This House program.)

Because the hub and I have blinders on when it comes to grocery shopping (and not straying from our list … we have it down to a science), we only just noticed the self-serve peanut butter grinder in our organic supermarket’s refillable-food section. Though electrically powered¹, the machine oozes smooth organic peanut butter, freshly ground from shelled peanuts in the attached stainless steel hopper. And at $3.99 a pound, it comes up to about a dollar cheaper than most commercial organic peanut butter. Plus, no preservatives or additives we don’t know about—just peanut butter in its pure, unadulterated state like Vishnu and the Mormon Tabernacle Choir intended.

And wouldn’t you know, if you tote along the same reusable plastic container for future dollops of that nutty butter, you’ll also be saving the energy used to manufacture the packaging store-stocked peanut butter comes in. (That includes the glass jar, the lid that screws on, the paper label, and even the fuel that factors into shipping all those raw resources to a manufacturing plant and then to the distribution centers.)

I also recommend fighting the urge to do the Peanut Butter Jelly Time dance while you’re still in the store. Because the cashiers might call in local law enforcement for backup. Don’t ask me how I know this. I just KNOW.

¹I’m always happy to hand-grind our coffee beans because I just can’t get over how turning a crank transforms whole beans into a delicate brown powder. It’s like magic! (Also, I use the time to read trashy celeb gossip on E! Online because I love me some bitchy Ted Casablanca. Can Scarlett Johanson multitask like I do? I don’t think so.)

(Part of my Green This House program.)

We picked up a few spray bottles from The Container Store to start mixing up our own green cleaning fluids. The decorative labels were printed off MarthaStewart.com, while the text itself was inspired by B_E_E’s cleverness.

Besides diluting Ecover’s Floor Soap according to directions for the floor cleaner, I’ll be using Care2’s recipe for an all-purpose cleaner made from washing soda, a dab of liquid soap, and hot tap water (plus a few drops of papaya essential oil someone gave me).

Our homemade air freshener is basically water with a few drops of green-tea and lavender essential oils. Quite scrumptious, and as good as any $15 “home fragrance spray” from Crabtree & Evelyn. (You need to give the bottle a good shake before you spray to redisperse the oils, natch.)

Chickies, I have FAILED you. Just now, while getting lunch at my local natural foods store (with my own tupperware, natch), I saw Ecover’s Floor Soap and decided a little too impulsively to add it to my tab. Then, returning to my desk, I examined the label a little closer and discovered that the product is made in Belgium. In an “ecological factory” with grass roofing, wood beams from sustainably managed forests, and bricks from coal-mine waste, but a Belgian factory nonetheless, which means this floor soap traveled thousands of miles to reach my grubby little hands, spewing pollutants in its wake.

I’ve edited my previous post to include this detail, and I’m quite certain the other products I mentioned in the body of my post are made in the U.S. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea culpa.

Here’s a sad emoticon to illustrate how contrite I am over this blunder:

:(

(Part of my Green This House program.)

It is with a leaden, anguished-filled heart that this witch must lay the very last of her Swiffer citrus-scented wet wipes to its eternal rest, and, dusting off the cobwebs from her faithful old mop, chalk that spring-fresh fling with chemical-impregnated disposables up to the Folly of Youth and the seductive siren call of fuss-free kitchen floors. I learned early on, when I decided to phase out my chemical constituents in favor of gentler, kinder helper products, that the concentrations of some 20 toxic compounds can be hundreds of times higher indoors than outdoors. (And verily, we’ve already replaced our usual Fantastik Orange Action countertop cleaner with Method’s pink grapefruit-scented all-purpose surface cleaner, which smells delectable.) Still, I can’t pretend not to feel some modicum of regret. Is it better to have Swiffered and lost, than never to have Swiffered at all?

I know, the body ain’t even cold yet, but here are some earth-friendly, all-natural options I’m considering while I mourn my loss:

Aubrey Organics’ Earth Aware Household Cleaner uses an all-herbal formula that combines soap bark extract and coconut oil soap with geranium, rosemary, and sage. A multitasker that can be used on dishes, floors, countertops, and even laundry, this cleaner is 100 percent natural and biodegradable. ($6.78 for 32 oz., Aubrey Organics)

Made from plant-based ingredients and completely biodegradable, the adorably packaged Ecover Floor Soap says it leaves no chemical residue and is suitable for all non-treated floors such as tiles, marble, concrete and linoleum (but not sealed wood). Comes in a concentrate, which means you’ll get more mileage per fluid ounce. (I recommend pre-diluting the liquid in a trigger spray bottle, however, so you don’t have to deal with the hassle of using a bucket. And a cesspool of nasty, goo-gunked water. Unless you’re into that kind of thing. I don’t judge.) One problem: the product is made in Belgium, which means extra fuel is spent to bring it here. ($4.17 for 32 oz., Kokopelli’s Green Market)

Unlike most synthetic commercial “pine” cleaners, the Super Pine cleaner uses naturally produced, biodegradable pine oil for that gen-NOO-wine “pine-fresh” feeling. One ounce dilutes to one pint of cleaning solution, which can be used for floors, counters, bathrooms, kitchens, and laundry. Rounding out its rustic, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers feel is the company’s assurance that the cleaner is “made the old-fashioned way, without dumping toxins into our waterways or cutting trees down, and with total planetary health in mind.” ($14 for 32 oz., Real Goods)

Earth Friendly Products’ Floor Kleener is made from “naturally derived” materials, such as coconut oil, lemon essential oil, and corn-based ethanol, and doesn’t require rinsing with water after it has worked its mojo on your floors. It comes in a trigger spray bottle and can be used on wood and wood-laminate flooring without stripping them of their wax or seals. The is ISO 9001-certified company’s tagline: “There’s clean and then there’s honest clean.” Hey wait a minute, I thought I was promised KLEEN? Those floors better not be just regular clean but KLEEN, buster, or there will be a reckoning, oh yes. Also available in the U.K. (Tip: Fill out some information in return for discount coupons.) ($3.79 for 22oz., Earth Friendly Products)

The self-proclaimed “world’s most versatile cleaner,” Basic-H by Shaklee was an environmental pioneer when it made its debut in 1960. Sixteen ounces of the concentrated fluid makes up to 90 gallons to clean hard surfaces, woodwork, walls, floors, glass, mirrors, and cars. Other suggested uses include removing crayon marks on walls, rinsing dirty paintbrushes, and lifting off old wallpaper, because there’s nothing we like better to do on weekends than lift off old wallpaper. Thank you, Shakelee! ($6.95 for 15 oz., Shaklee)

Another multitalented concentrate, Mrs Meyer’s All Purpose Cleaner can be used on non-porous surfaces such as finished wood and tile floors, counter-tops, walls, porcelain, bathroom fixtures, and sealed natural or synthetic stone. You can choose between lavender, lemon verbena, and geranium “aromatherapeutic” scents. Caveat: The Green Guide ferretted out from the company that Mrs. Meyers products include a small amount of synthetic preservative, EDTA, “a boosting agent which acts as an allergen and mild skin irritant”, and sodium citrate, which “although naturally derived, can still cause allergic reactions.” ($7.99 for 32 oz., Mrs. Meyers)

An option I’m finding increasingly attractive is to take the DIY route and mix my own natural cleaners with kitchen stalwarts such as vinegar and baking soda. (More green cleaning recipes here and here.) Imagine, I could actually do my high-school chemistry teacher proud (although she did once pull me aside to tell me that my thought-processing skills were “more creative” than scientific, which is teaching shorthand for “Why are you in my class breaking test tubes and not choreographing an interpretative dance of Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales set to Billy Joel’s “We Didn’t Start the Fire”? DON’T HIDE YOUR LIGHT UNDER A BUSHEL.” Ok, I made that last part up.) Besides being gentler on the piggy bank, mixing my own cleaners could also cut down on excess plastic packaging.

Additional resources (international):
1. Australians may want to check out the rose geranium floor cleaner by Aussie company Ecologic. (AU$9.95 per liter, Biome Living)

2. Canadians can choose the mint-lavender blend of the chicly packaged Art Home Ecological Home Cleaner (also available in the U.S., but think of the fuel cost) by the Quebec-based Fruits & Passion. (US$10 for 34 oz., Fruits & Passion)

3. Folks in the U.K. have their own homebrewed multi-surface cleanser by Bio-D. (£2.17 per liter, Little Green Earthlets)

4. If you live in New Zealand, you can try Beauty Engineered Forever’s multi-surface cleaner that “loves your every surface while [it cares] for the environment.” The company’s products are Environmental Choice NZ-credited. (NZ$6.49 for 500ml, Nourish)

(Read Part 1 here.)

These days, you can find paints on sale that are low in those nasty volatile organic compounds (VOCs) I just warned you about. But why settle for reduced VOCs when you have several natural or zero-VOC paints on the market? While healthier options can end up being a great deal more expensive, the good news is that growing public awareness and demand is pushing non-toxic materials into the mainstream, with the result that prices can only go down.

The husband of a woman with multiple chemical sensitivity syndrome was recently quoted as saying, “People can build cheap, but it’s very expensive in the long run because of increased doctor bills.” So even though some of the prices I’ve seen send my immigrant gene diving for cover, I have to admit that his statement makes a lot of sense, especially when I’m taking my family’s short- and long-term wellbeing into account. Call me insane (you won’t be the only one), but I just don’t think that’s something that should be at all compromised just so I can afford to buy the latest iPod. (I have a 7-year-old Discman that skips when you jostle it and I’m DAMN PROUD OF IT, OKAY?)

These are just some of the options I’ve discovered (prices may vary with retailer.)

The Old Fashioned Milk Paint Co. has been making “historic paints” using buttermilk, crushed limestone, and mineral pigments since 1979. Based on methods that can be traced back thousands of years to cave-wall paintings, the Milk Paint formula has been used in the restoration of original Colonia