Here’s what’s new from my silent, solitary and simple home. Thank goodness my husband and I fit well with this. We both like it.

1) I love my new washing machine, but am also delighted with my old dryer. I had ordered a new one to go along with my new washer, but cancelled the purchase when it wouldn’t fit in the door. I can’t believe that I was sucked into thinking that washers and dryers have to be bought and discarded as a team. After all, they don’t die at the same time! My twenty year old dryer is still tossing the clothes around, and since I hang most of my laundry out to dry, I figure it should last my life time—even if I live to be 101 like my mom.

2) Speaking of Mom, the memoir is about ready to be mailed to my friend Carolyn for developmental editing. Next there’s the copy editing, cover design, formatting for print copy on demand and for e-book, and then the launch of Very Grateful on Amazon—hopefully by the end of the year.

3) The Jane Austen project has slowed down a bit because I just received an annotated edition of  Sense and Sensibility from interlibrary loan.  400 pages of text, notes, photographs and paintings. So I’m rereading but I haven’t given up the e-book, which I must say is an extremely different experience. All good—including the audio edition in 10 compact discs.

The other day a friend wrote that she was dealing with a broken dishwasher. She didn’t say how much time or psychic energy it was taking, but she did imply that it was stressful and annoying. Although it occurred to me that if she didn’t have a dishwasher or didn’t use a dishwasher, she would be free of such interruptions, I refrained from offering such a judgment.

       As part of my on-going search for simplicity, however, I have some thoughts on the pros and cons of dishwasher use. Full disclosure, I have a dishwasher, which I love when family comes. But when it’s just the two of us, it sits empty, thus keeping my life simple and saving power. Inevitably with a half filled dishwasher, there’s a dirty dish sitting there that I need; I run out of knives, forks and spoons. So out they come to be washed and used. All this back and forth consumes more time and decision-making energy than if I had keep up with the washing after each meal. The worst time stealer, however, is the time it takes to unload the machine.

    As far as money stealer, there’s the cost and use of electricity to heat the water and run the machine. And let’s not forget that with frequent use, I’d have to replace the machine more frequently. There must be some statistic that tells the number cycles your average machine can offer.

    I am aware that a dishwasher sterilizes in a way that hand washing doesn’t. But that’s another topic—how sterile do we have to be? Meanwhile I love the simplicity in a culture that has become obsessed with hand sanitizers.

Most mornings it is mighty cold here at the cottage. So, before the heat comes up, I put on mom’s red knitted hat and sit, waiting for the sunrise.

     Mom purchased the hat at her sewing groups sale years ago, and I mean years ago! She must have worn it for at least ten years, from age 90 to 100+; it is still as good as new. Being frugal, she had no inclination to buy a new one, not even one to match her blue/violet coat (she had stopped caring about fashion).

     My most vivid memory of Mom and the hat is from the half-mile walks that we took. It was always the same route; Mom would clonk along with her walker and periodically stop and pick up trash, which she deposited in the little carrying pouch attached to the walker. Since she always carried a pocketbook, the pouch was always empty and ready. Our ritual was to walk a quarter of a mile to the Roger Sherman Inn, give its sign a tap, and make the return trip to where Mom lived. When we got to the lobby, Mom would dump the trash into the nearest available wastebasket. Civic duty done; right up until the end, Mom doing what she could to make the world a better place.

    I miss those walks. Periodically Mom would stop, catch her breath and  face me so she could read my lips while we talked. Then on we would go. Mom had always been a routine person. As she walked those last five years, the routines became rituals that gave form to her life. They always delighted me, even when they were slow and sooo repetitive. You see, throughout my life my job was to make Mom happy. I loved the job. Mom was happy and that made me happy. A win-win life together.

Here are a few snapshots of what constitutes a simple day at the cottage. Simple things and routines I can count on.

• Prepared meals ready in the freezer—no cooking, no cleanup.
• Cereal always a viable option.
• Hot water in five seconds from the tap.
• Wearing the same clothes every day—no wardrobe decision
• Same three basic walking routes to choose from
• Safe surroundings.
• Wash my dishes immediately after using—no dishwasher to empty.
• Bed by 9:30, up by 5:30.
• Same but different sunrise every morning.

Here’s a summary of things to do to lower your carbon footprint. It’s from Barbara Kingsolver’s marvelous book, Flight Behavior, a story sent in the Tennessee Appalachian mountains; story of a young mother; a story of climate change, a story of the flight behavior of butterflies.

    How am I doing, I ask myself? Answer: I have a long way to go, but at least I’m conscious. I don’t buy bottled water (except for an occasional sparkling water), I put-and-take at the local dump, I hang most of my laundry, and very seldom use the dishwasher. I love the idea of taking my coffee mug, cutlery and Tupperware when I go out to eat. We keep a cold house in the winter and in the summer run our bedroom window air conditioner only about eight or ten nights.

     Although there’s nothing more yummy than a medium-rare hamburger cooked on the grill, but I could let that one go. Money management isn’t my job, but I’ll check it out. I love public transportation, but there isn’t much of it around here. I have to drive twenty minutes to the nearest stop to catch the T into Boston.

     I must confess that driving back and forth to the cottage by the sea all winter does not help my carbon footprint, although once I’m there I hardly ever hit the road. But the ‘Fly less’ idea is not a happy thought for me. I’m going to Italy on Sunday, and flying is my only option. Yes, I have a long way to go!

     The irony of all this is that Dellarobia, the protagonist in Flight Behavior, scores high. She doesn’t have a long way to go because she can’t afford to; she doesn’t go out to eat; she shops exclusively at second-hand stores; stocks and mutual funds, what are they?; no computer; cool house; husband’s truck is on its third motor; excellent well water; the red meat she eats is from the sheep that the family raises on the farm. As far as  ‘fly less’ is concerned, she’d probably say, ‘fly never.’  

Category One: Food and Drink
• Bring your own Tupperware to a restaurant for leftovers, as often as possible.
• Try bringing your own mug for tea or coffee.
• Carry your own cutlery, use no plastic utensils.
• Carry your own Nalgene bottle instead of buying bottled water.
• Try to reduce the intake of red meat in your diet.

Category Two: Everyday Necessities
• Try to buy reused.
• Plan your errand route so you drive less.

Category Three: Financial
• Switch some of your stocks and mutual funds to socially responsible investments.

Category Four: Home/office
• Make sure computers get recycled.
• Turn off your motor when not in use.

Category Five: Household
• Switch your light bulbs to CFL. Upgrade to energy-efficient appliances.
• Set your thermostat two degrees cooler in winter and higher in summer

Category Six: Transportation
• Ride your bike or use public transportation
• Buy low-emission vehicle
• Properly inflate your tires and maintain your car.
• Fly less.

What a fool I was to think that my dishwasher could make life simple for me! I usually wash by hand, which I figure takes about five second more than rinsing and loading, but with company for the weekend, I decided to give my seldom used dishwasher a run. After all, that’s what sensible, modern people do. The first wash went off just fine, but when I turned on the next load--nothing! After checking the fuse box I decided the best thing was to start washing by hand. It took forever, for I had really pack it well, and food was stuck to the forks and plates.

     I doubt that I’ll get the dishwasher fixed, and I’m certain that I won’t replace it. The entire dishwasher procedure is too complex for me; I always have to retrieve a favorite spatula or bowl waiting to be washed, and then of course I have to wash it; invariably I run out of glasses; and unloading takes forever.

     Washing by hand suits the simpler life that I am seriously trying to cultivate. Oh, I use hot water, but it’s my muscle power versus electricity, and that feels very green and healthy.

    Ironically, just before I discovered the powerless dishwasher, I had come up from hanging the laundry in the basement. It took time, but it felt simple and definitely green. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not going to use that old scrubbing board. That would not feel simple.

Yesterday I hung most of the laundry in the cellar to dry. Actually, I've been doing this for a while, although towels and some shirts go in the dryer. This is one of my ways to cut down on 'man-made' energy. But then this morning I caught myself taking a long, and I mean long, luxuriously hot shower. I have a long way to go.

    All those phrases we hear and say about saving the planet, going green,  being environmentally clean—what do I do about the implicit problem? I want simplicity, but I want certain comforts and privileges-- those ones that I treat as a birth right. At the stage of my life I’m not buying new ‘sitters’ for the house; I’m not redecorating the living room with new furniture; I have enough clothes to live into the next millennium. On the other hand, I’m certainly not willing to give up my drives back and forth to the cottage, nor my jet travel to Italy or Scotland. I have a long way to go.

      I'm well aware that if everyone got serious about their spending and its effect on the planet, the economy would shift mightily. Maybe person-by-person, situation-by-situation, as is actually happening, is the best way to go. I can hang up the laundry and take short showers. Today the Boston Globe reported that as of January 1st  plain bottled water cannot be purchased or served on the University of Vermont campus. I can give up buying bottled water, but am I ready to eat my breakfast without turning the pages of the newspaper. As I’ve simply said, ‘I have a long way to go.’