As you know, August came with us to Alaska this year. As you also know, August is a baby.
As you also know, where there are babies, there are diapers.
Back home in Chestertown, when we are done with our trash, we put it in a bag by the curb. But in our part of Alaska, there is no trash removal service. So we burn everything in a fire pit.
Alas, today’s diapers do not burn. They are filled with a magical powder which, when added to water (or any other liquid of your choosing) turns into a hardy, gelatinous goop that is excellent at keeping babies from getting diaper rash but that will not burn without coercion.
Fortunately, in Alaska, we have buckets full of used motor oil.
Motor oil and sodden diapers. They are a pair, like chocolate and peanut butter, that work best together.
It’s like a match made in heaven.
Are you getting hungry?
I lit a match, and then rest was history. I did this every few days for three weeks, rain or shine, mosquitoes or no mosquitoes.
Such is the burden of the tundra domestic.
Does Alaska have water? I’m just saying a couple of cloth diapers and a bucket of water instead of used motor oil would have greened up August’s carbon footprint considerably!
Judi: Nope. No water up there.
Judi – I leave town for a few days and Matthew decides to do a post outing my issue of greatest liberal guilt (not that conservatives don’t care about the environment, they just seem to browbeat less about it). In his defense, he was just being honest. Me trying to “cover it up” by not mentioning it doesn’t make it any less worse of a thing to do. So, add oil-soaked diapers to our many carbon-loaded flights to Alaska and the carbon-loaded mail-and-supply delivery system once there, and I’m pretty much getting sent to eco hell. Not to mention the wholesale slaughter of fish that is wreaking massive destruction on my karma every summer, and I’m pretty much doomed. Here’s to my next life as a blister on the anus of a whale. Sigh.
I figured someone would ask the cloth diaper question. Perfect response o’ Tundra Domestic. What would the life of a domestic be without some fire?