Reduce, Reuse, Recycle series: Part 3, Recycle

This is part 3 in a 3-part series on minimizing waste through the Reduce-Reuse-Recycle maxim.  Read part 1 here, and part 2 here.

I've been putting off doing this last post in the series for about a week six weeks now, but at the urging of my mom and sister, I'm finally blowing the dust off this draft.  Yeah, I've been busy, but isn't everyone?  The real reason it's been so long is because, frankly, recycling seems boring in comparison to reducing and reusing.  But regardless of glamour, it is an integral part of the process--the steps are presented in the best order to apply them: reducing first, reusing what you can't cut out or cut back on, and finally recycling items at the end of their useful life.  I recycle less than I reduce or reuse, mainly because if one has successfully applied the first two steps, there is little that one needs to recycle at all.  

As a side note, the line between reusing and recycling is sometimes a little blurry to me.  If I repurpose an old toothbrush to clean tile grout or scrub out laundry stains, that seems like a clear case of reuse--its basic function is still scrubbing, whether it's teeth or tile.  Similarly, returning a CRV bottle or can to be melted down and made into more bottles or cans (and getting your five cents back!) is the archetypical image of recycling.  My argument is that it's recycling if you change the basic nature or essential function of the item somehow.  It's also recycling if you destroy it in the process of making a new item out of its materials, while reusing relies on the item remaining pretty much the same thing it's always been and performing the similar functions to the ones it's always performed.    

Without further semantic fussing, here are a few ways I like to recycle.  [Warning: upon edit, further semantic fussing indeed remains ahead.]  Some of these recycling techniques are pretty Duh-worthy, and some are a little more unusual, as things often are around here.  

Let's start with the first way I ever recycled: returnable bottles and cans.  Growing up in Massachusetts and Maine, I learned that almost all beverage containers are returnable for a five cent bottle deposit refund.  In Maine, there is even a fifteen cent deposit on wine bottles--wowza!  My sister and I got to keep the recycling money if we were willing to feed the bottles and cans, one at a time, into the redemption machine (has sort of a religious ring to it, huh?)--a tedious but easy job, and a great way to make a quick buck.  In California, they do it by weight instead of count at most centers, but the principle is the same.   At my local recycling trailer, I can even give them non-CRV glass (like wine bottles--sadly, we're not in Maine anymore), and they give me the eensy-weensy sum of a quarter of a cent per pound.  I take my returnables about once a month, or whenever our bin is overflowing, and usually get a few bucks--Roomie contributes hers too, but she's happy to let me keep the money if I take them all to the center.  Yesterday I took the returnables from my place AND B's place, and got $5.67.  So not a lot, but that could be turned into an extra gallon and a half of gas, (best price around here right now is $3.59), a six pack of Trader Jose beer, or $5 for my savings account and the $0.76 for the spare change jar.  Swish.     

My hometown also had curbside recycling pickup for mixed paper, metal, glass, corrugated cardboard, and all plastics numbers 1-7.  When I visited my grandparents in Ohio, I was appalled to discover that their city did not offer curbside recycling, and there were no state bottle deposits, so EVERYTHING just went in the trash.  Some people will laugh about this, but that discovery at age 8 or so seriously slashed my list of states I'd consider living in long-term unless they change their ways.  My apartment complex does not have recycling dumpsters (a major WTF MAN WE LIVE IN CALIFORNIA, BOOOOOO! moment), but I'm serious enough about it that I'll stuff my mixed paper, styrofoam meat packages, steel cans, etc. in the back of my truck and dispose of it on a visit to B's, where they DO have recycling.

What about hard-to recycle items--ones that can technically be recycled but are hard to clean properly or find a facility that accepts them?  I hang on to those silly plastic bags I get when I've forgotten my reusable ones, and wait until I find a store that'll recycle those for me, since in Orange County (and I think a bunch of other places, too) they're not recyclable municipally.  Near me, there's a Target, a Best Buy, and an Albertsons that recycle them.  (I do keep a few for cat poop bags, though.)  I also rinse and recycle used aluminum foil, as it it perfectly recyclable as long as it's completely free of food waste.  Batteries can get dropped off at hardware stores, most Walgreens stores, and many electronics stores, such as Radio Shack.  Motor oil, if you change your own (I'm not that cool yet, but for those of you who are), can go to most auto parts stores, some of which filter and refine to be used again.  Also note that it's illegal to dump used motor oil on the ground, down the drain, or in the trash, even if it's in a sealed container, so please don't do that.  Many mailing and packaging stores will accept clean packing peanuts and bubble wrap for recycling.  Brita filters, plastic toothpaste tubes, take out containers, and more #5 plastics (usually hard to recycle, often rejected curbside--but not in MA since we rule!) are all accepted at Preserve's Gimme 5 program.  They have drop-off bins throughout the country, and if there isn't one near you, it's also possible to mail in your plastics.         

My countertop compost bucket

Moving away from Thank-you-Captain-Obvious territory, composting is one of my favorite ways to recycle.    Fun fact, which my mom can corroborate: I started composting BEFORE I cared about gardening or any other hippie thing, just because the idea of that much food waste going to the landfill bothered me.  Of course, I felt the opportune time to start this endeavor was while cleaning up after a dinner party with the guests still present.  (My thought process at 15: more waste, more compost!)  But all things considered, I wouldn't trade that strange beginning for anything--composting is what first lit a fire under my butt about organic farming.  The compost pile takes what was useless and transforms it into a medium for new plant life, and as a bonus provides increased sustainability and independence for the grower.  It doesn't matter what you grow; vegetables, fruits, flowers, moss, whatever.  If it's something you'd otherwise buy, you are becoming more independent from the vast industrial food network.  What else was I possibly going to do with coffee grounds, kale ribs, eggshells, moldy bread, banana peels, or veggie butts that aren't freezable for broth (ya know, tomatoes, zucchini, herb stems, eggplant--the kind that pretty much melt when you defrost them)?  Since I don't have pigs (yet--definitely working on it!), the answer is they'd go in the trash, or down the garbage disposal at best--not the most useful fate for these nitrogen-, phosphorous-, potassium- and carbon-rich items. Composting digests anything that was once alive and makes its nutrients available to plants in the soil.  Pretty rad payoff just for throwing one kind of trash together in its own heap.

Red wine vinegar in large dispenser (right),
white wine vinegar in quart jar (left)

Another weird-but-not-that-weird Hippie Thing™ that I do: I make wine vinegar out of leftover or spoiled wine.  You're probably thinking, "What is this mysterious leftover wine?  And how does it get left alone long enough to spoil?"  The answer is, it's mostly not me.  Roomie and her fiancé often open a bottle of red wine, drink about half of it with dinner, and then leave it corked on top of the fridge for storage.  (If you're wondering, this is not a great idea.  Red wine is not damaged by refrigeration, either before or after uncorking--it just needs time to warm up to about 55 and oxygenate before drinking, which many people assume means you should not keep an open bottle in the fridge.  That is only true if you plan to drink it in the next 12 hours or so.)  By the time Roomie and Fiancé remember it (often a week or two later), the wine has already begun its natural transformation into red wine vinegar by fermenting.  I made the initial contribution with about a cup of red wine and a few tablespoonfuls of Bragg's unfiltered apple cider vinegar (I chose Bragg's because it still has the mother), covered it loosely with a towel to keep bugs out but let air in, and that was it.  Thereafter I gave the developing vinegar a little bit off the top whenever I opened a bottle of wine.  Cut to five months later, and between many small per bottle contributions and Roomie's occasional over-the-fridge extras, I have about 3 quarts of red wine fermenting into DELICIOUS red wine vinegar at the moment.  #TheTastiestKindOfRecycling
  
I also like to donate or sell stuff that I'm no longer using--in college this was mainly textbooks from liberal arts classes that I didn't feel the need to keep, but since then it's expanded to recreational books (unfortunately I've picked up a few duds in my time--haven't we all?), outgrown or no-longer-my-style clothing, duplicate household items, and suchlike.  There's a Salvation Army a block from my apartment, and a Goodwill about 3 blocks away, so there's no shortage of convenient options.  Craigslist is also a good option for items that are worth more than you'd care to donate or are geared toward niche/collector types.  It's worth it to be careful with Cragislist, obviously, though I found both my truck and my former landlady through Craigslist and it worked out very well in both cases.  Especially the truck, as the seller was amazing--he provided a paper trail for all previous repairs (including routine maintenance such as oil changes), he was quite personable, and he was willing to drop his price to meet us and the market.  Even given my overwhelmingly positive experiences, I've certainly heard of people getting screwed online, so take any precautions you think are necessary.    

Revamping leftovers is one that might qualify as duh-worthy for many people, but it is new territory for me, since the one overarching kitchen prejudice of mine that I've noticed is a preference for one-dish meals--pasta, pizza, soup, stir-fry, latkes, this really easy Vietnamese chicken bake, or this rice vermicelli salad with nuoc cham.  Usually my leftovers are pretty tough to repurpose, since they're already their own fairly characteristic thing.  However, sometimes I can still make it work.  Recently, B and I went out to dinner with his family, and his sister couldn't finish her roast chicken (it was a 24 oz portion, FWIW--huge!) but they were staying at a hotel with no fridge.  Still, she didn't want to waste it, so they gave it to me and B, knowing we could use it somehow.  It got shredded and turned into chicken pad thai, but could just as easily have become chicken tacos or chicken tortilla soup or any number of other dinners.  On the occasions when B and I do a classic protein/veggie/starch meal plan, it's very easy to reuse.  Mashed potatoes can top shepherd's pie later that week, steamed broccoli can get tossed into a stir-fry or pasta, baked sweet potatoes can be fried up as part of Sunday brunch, almost any leftover veggie can get chopped and hidden in quiche or marinara sauce for a nutritional boost with little noticeable weirdness (I've gotten away with spinach, kale, carrots, chard, eggplant, zucchini, and broccoli so far).  You get the idea.  Rather than just zapping it, if it's still got some creative potential, use it!  Transforming leftovers is a sneaky way to shake things up in the kitchen even (especially) if you're on a tight budget or have waaaaaaaay too much of [insert seasonal vegetable] from your garden or the farmers' market.  

Like both other parts of the maxim, there are a few things I would like to but don't do yet, for various reasons.  These ideas include: 
Using wood scraps for kindling (my parents do this) and using fallen deadwood for at least a portion of one winter's firewood--though that's not much of a concern in Orange County, especially in my fireplace-less apartment. 
A bottle tree--tough to do with neither tree nor backyard, but I'm still saving my brightly colored bottles for such an occasion. 
Making my own artsy recycled paper--still not sure I could sacrifice a functional blender to that cause, though.  
Freecycle, along the lines of donation and selling--haven't gotten around to it yet, in classic procrastinating fashion.  
A cool project I saw where you cut up old rubber or plastic foam flip flops into strips, then string them all together to make a doormat.  Since I've started wearing Rainbows, I might not get a lot of these in the future, but I do have two old foam pairs waiting patiently in the wings.      

A closing note: through this series, the thought I've kept coming back to is the need for environmental evangelism.  I remain hopeful I can convince others that the drop in the bucket from any single act of reducing, reusing, or recycling is worth it.  I encourage you NOT to buy into the illusion that nothing you do counts--I bought into that for too long, and it left me miserable, not to mention an ineffective citizen.  Small, single acts are the only way I've found so far to deal with my own moral paralysis.  When I get to thinking about world hunger, or pollution in our atmosphere and waterways, or how many people still don't have access to clean water, very quickly my thoughts become less about how I can help with those massive problems and more about how guilty I feel for living the way I do.  

This is not productive.  My guilt, no matter how expansive it is or how miserable it makes me, won't change a single damn thing.  In fact, if it keeps me from doing anything other than feeling crappy, it's worse than unproductive, it's actively sabotaging any real progress.  When that happens, I've learned to step back from that feeling and think instead about what I can do today.  (Much like I've heard about AA--you're not committing to forever, just today.)  I'm worried about world hunger?  Today, even if it's only today, I can waste less food by buying only what I need (hands up if you could live off the stuff in your kitchen right now for a few weeks), I can reuse scraps and leftovers, and I can compost the rest.  Concerned about pollution?  Today I can choose to support environmentally friendly businesses, avoid factory farmed meat, grow some of my own food without pesticides or shipping, and consume less fossil fuel in the form of gasoline or household electricity.  

My hallway reminder 

These are real, tangible things that DO improve things at least a little bit. If tiny amounts were worthless, hedge funds would be out of business.  Yet it's entirely too easy to get stuck in the mindset that while little things matter when you can directly experience the result (saving spare change = more money, switching to CFL lightbulbs or HE appliances = lower electric bill, etc.), individual choices can't possibly matter on a global scale.  Those choices might not be traceable to you, but if billions of people suddenly decided that nothing they do matters, it would lead to widespread environmental destruction.  Intentional living today is the equivalent of spare change--it really can add up, slowly and steadily, if we don't get discouraged by small amounts.  Even (maybe especially?) as an idealist, I'm prone to disillusionment.  I get grumpy when cities and towns make it difficult to recycle.  I shake my head when I see returnables or barely-eaten food in the trash.  I grumble about corporate waste when I see high-rise office buildings lit up like Christmas trees late at night.  I usually think something uncharitable, like The problem is everyone else.  If people would just do it MY way, we'd be better off.  Apart from being embarrassingly simplistic, the big catch is that I can't change everyone else's behavior, just mine.  What can I do today?  That's the point of intentional living.  So I'm challenging myself to complain less about the way things are, and instead to remember the words of Mr. Gandhi: "In a gentle way, you can shake the world."