“Here, I'm walking out into the middle of the road. Traffic is passing by me on both sides. Can you see me now?” I spoke into the cell, last week. What did we do before these devices were ubiquitous? Nail down better directions beforehand? Not walk out into the road, yelling and gesticulating like a madman? My fiancée Anj did finally see me pointing and followed her human traffic sign in. She was there to unburden her car of cardboard and aluminum at a recycling facility that raises money for local Christian schools. Thus did two different religious obligations come together: to raise children in the faith and to somehow placate Mother Earth through the ritual sorting of consumer packaging.
Anj gets warm fuzzies out of recycling. I've always thought it was garbage. As a testy colleague of mine used to bellow, “My time is not a renewable resource!” Yet we're hardly a differently sexed version of the Odd Couple. We're both fierce yet usually agreeable. She's a dog person. I can tolerate her dog, a Dachshund-Yorkie or “Dorkie” mix named Siska. We complete each other's sentences, which friends think is cute.
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