Zero Waste Wednesday: Spice rack

So with my inaugural Zero Waste Wednesday a terrible failure, I thought we'd do something this time around that is nothing but success. (I can't decide if that's pride or vanity.) Behold, I give you my spice rack:

Dammit, family! How many times do I have to tell you that the cumin and
chili powder have to be together because they're deeply in love?!

I won't lie, I photoshopped out all the dust and grime from my cupboard. I will tell you that, but I will not show you that. Take the lesson from that as you will.

Our little town might be tiny and a tourist trap, but we do have a great market with a fairly decent bulk aisle. I mean, you can't get cocoa powder like you can at Mara's Market of Choice, but you can get about any herb or spice you can think of (even marshmallow root), so we're calling that a win. They sell reusable jars at the store, but I like these little four-ouncers from Ball:

Source

...And these reusable (plastic, blerg) lids:

Source

I've given many a lesson (okay, like two) to people who are curious about my jars. Both times, they thought that you had to pay not only for what's in the jar, but for the weight of the jar too boot. Nah, that's why God gave us tare. You take it to the customer service desk, they weigh it up (I let them write on my lids because I don't care about pristine white expanses) and boom! You are all ready for bulk action.

That blue number? Is the tare.
The black number is the bin number.

It doesn't cost very much to fill a jar; usually it's less than 50 cents. I was thinking of telling you exactly which herbs and spices are in my cupboard, but really, isn't that a matter of personal taste? So never mind.

Pros:

Zero waste!

Fresh and fresh!

I can buy just as much or as little as I want!
My spice cupboard is adorable!

Weekly poser opportunities!

Cons:

None. I mean, unless you're skittish about the bulk aisle, I guess.

Bonus Tuesday: Just another day at work

Trisha's Note: Because I enjoy writing but am also easily sidetracked, I have a lot of unfinished posts just wallowing around in sad incompletion on my Blogger dash. I've decided to finish them because A) I like a challenge and 2) I really don't want to do any laundry right now.

So that's what Bonus Tuesday is all about: a bonus post, written who knows when and about who knows what, that may or may not really deserve the light of day. (You're totally sold on the concept, aren't you?)

Lincoln City, NOT the Pacific. This will all  make sense in a minute.

I get a lot of interesting phone calls at work (well, the office does, I guess, and I am just lucky enough to be the one on the front lines picking up) that range from questions ("What's the number to the Oregon Department of Labor? You guys have that, right?" Fun fact: No) to robotic solicitations ("This is Amanda reminding you that you have not yet completed your Google business profile") to actual people wanting to sell us stuff ("Who's in charge of buying your supplies?" Fun fact #2: Unfortunately, me).

And then, of course, there are the story ideas. Usually they boarder on the slanderous (I mean, yes, it's frustrating when you get crappy service, but it's not really something we can base an investigative report on) or the weird (we had a dude come in with pictures on his cell of a UFO not too long ago), or the boring (I'm sure your event is awesome, but, um, we can't send anyone so... do you want to take a picture and just send it to us? 'Cause that would be great).

That's probably too much to say to introduce a phone call I got while manning the phones last Thursday,* from a woman very excited to tell me about an event taking place in Lincoln City with NATIONAL, PATRIOTIC significance over the weekend, and yet, I just did.

So you guys, I was only half paying attention because she lost me at Lincoln City. We are seated three hours from that coastal town, and as we only cover news in our immediate area, no one from our office was going to travel there to cover this event. We just won't. If there's no local connection, it ain't on.

But from what I gathered (and I actually tried to go on the Lincoln City newspaper site to see if there was any info on this to jog my memory, but there isn't. For some reason, I'm starting to doubt the NATIONAL, PATRIOTIC significance), some guy -- maybe a veteran? -- was traveling across the state -- maybe country? -- on foot -- possibly? -- to raise awareness -- or maybe money? -- and ending the journey in Lincoln City. On the beach, I hope, because that would be dramatic as hell. You can't go any farther than the Pacific.

I could tell she was elderly, and I didn't want to crush her dreams because she was so damn excited about this, but I had to. So I was like, We're a local newspaper and we only cover events in our area, and she was all, NATIONAL, PATRIOTIC SIGNIFICANCE!, and I was like, Yeah... still no, but she was not going to give up. So she told me that her sister and nephew live in town, and that she was 65, except she was really 91 and she just said she was 65 because when she was younger she had... blood poisoning or something?... and she was not expected to survive but Jesus broke the bonds of death and here she is!

And then she launched into her event info again.

You know what, people? I am not that brave and not that strong to go up against a 91-year-old on good terms with Jesus, so I did the only thing I could think of to get her off the phone: I gave her the company email address and the editor's name. And then she wanted my name ("Tricia?" Fun fact #3: Not even. I'm not a Patricia. I'm a Trisha. I get very cranky about this, actually), which I gave to her kind of against my better judgement, but hey, what could happen, right?

Still, I felt it in everyone's best interest to try one last time to not get her hopes up, but this time she was like, Where there's a will, there's a way, and you COULD cover this event. She was so excited to finally have contact info that she repeated everything three times, then told me to have a blessed day.

So that was nice.

Needless to say, that event has come and gone and not a single member of our staff was there to witness the NATIONAL, PATRIOTIC significance.  But I do kind of wonder what happened, not with the guy walking or whatever, but with my new friend. Did she make it there? Was she disappointed we didn't? Does she think she should have tried harder to convince me?

I will never know.

*Not last Thursday. This was in September, maybe? October? This summer?

Happy birthday, Eric!

Thanksgiving. That's my brother Tim giving him the bunny ears.

My one true love turned 44 yesterday. He celebrated by cleaning the garage, making the girls and I breakfast, and watching a lot of football. He picked oatmeal cake for dessert--the birthday boy always gets to choose--and tacos for dinner. Which ended up a little different than he'd planned because I accidentally defrosted pork chops instead of ground pork. Oops. We had fajitas. Sometimes you just gotta roll with what you've been given.

Eric and I don't exchange gifts. We stopped doing that after about two years into our relationship. You'd think that would point to our minimalistic tendencies before we were minimalists, but mostly it's that he's very particular about what he buys, so it's easier to just make a nice dinner and let him worry about his own gift, if he feels a need. :)

But the girls made him very thoughtful cards, and Johanna added a plate of her special pretzels-peanut butter-chocolate chip confections, which were generally well received by everyone.

Eric is my heart for so many reasons. He's kind, he's hilarious, and the sound of his giggle is my favorite thing. He's a great father, he loves me even though I am a brat, and he never leaves projects unfinished. He lets me be myself. He's a very easy person to live with.

And that makes him sound perfect, I know this, and he's not, but you know what? He kind of is.

Happy birthday, love.