I’ve always been one to recycle. I’ve always been one to forget to turn off a light when I leave the room (but I’m trying to remember). I read treehugger daily.

(I live in a 2200 sq ft McMansion with two cars plus a company car in the land of the vices. And I lurve me some air-conditioning.)

I’m a geek for Anne of Green Gables, Jo March Bhaer and Laura Ingalls Wilder. I love the routine and simplicity of each day in their lives. I yearn for an apron and a nail to hang it on.

(The reality is that I admire hard work but seem to spend a whole lot of time on this here computer rather than going about a routine of actually cleaning up said McMansion or even getting dressed to the bra, forget to the shoes.)

I admire my grandmas and I realize they would be considered very “green” by today’s standards. In one house if you had enough bathwater to reach the back of the tub, then you had enough. (I have a deep whirlpool. I justify that at least when I turn on the jets that I’m giving baby a bath with me.) In the other house the bags from the insides of the cereal boxes was saved for waxed paper and the plasticware and cups were washed (no dishwasher) and reused each family event.

(Guh, washing dishes skeezes me out. )

I know that they were this way because they grew up and married in the midst of the depression. That the rels who had moved away to the city moved home to the farm because they could survive out there. Their lives were about saving for the future (my 3000 in retirement just won’t cut it), and decreasing their needs for “now”, Using what they had and not buying more.

It was about recognizing “Enough”.

I want to do better at this. I want to recognize what “Enough” is in my life. I want to work on answering the question about can a Gen Xer be more like her grandmas without being crunchy crunchy hairy legged girl.

(Oh, I guess if that’s my condition then I better go shave.)