Recycling soft plastics like a ninja

I am finding myself becoming a bin ninja, in that it annoys the hell out of me, when someone in the house puts rubbish in the wrong bin. IT IS NOT HARD. LIke the time Boggy put his old sneakers in the recycling bin, or when he puts a cardboard packet in the waste bin. 

Fair enough it is not hard when you are properly informed. I really should properly educate the people in my house before getting all bent out of shape. 

There's been an ad on telly lately that has me now separating my soft plastics, and depositing them in a bin at our local supermarket. This is saving something that can be recycled from going to landfill.

They say if you can scrunch your soft plastics up into a ball it can be recycled. For example potato chip packets, bread bags, biscuit packets or snack bar wrappers, not forgetting to mention, the plastic bags you bring your fruit and veggies home in from the supermarket.

Furthermore, it has me repeating "Luuucyy!", complete with accent (which is clever by ad execs, think 'gogomobile') anytime I put any plastics in the soft plastics bag I have on top of the fridge. I am sure the kids are over it, but to my surprise they happily put their zooper dooper wrappers in there, so it's a case of teaching them young to recycle.






While the Which Bin campaign is South Australian initiative, you can visit the website to see which soft plastics you can recycle and where your closest soft plastics recycling bin is located.

Waste is a global problem, but you can start small, with what you can do at home. Think global, act local people.

How is your recycling game?

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A scrappy job

Last week I was the office biatch at my twin brothers', scrap metal business.

One of my brothers and his wife, went on holiday and I had the pleasure of holding down the fort. If it wasn't dead queit, it was like Central Station. Also the dust and dirt factor was off the charts! I cleaned the office on Monday and by Tuesday arvo there was a fine layer of dust on everything. I can imagine in Winter, that dust turns to mud!

I quite enjoyed my week, but kudos to full time working mummas, my house looks like a bomb hit it. Looking forward to catching up around the house this week.

I enjoyed spending a bit more time with my other brother in his work place. I hardly go near the place any other time. It was nice to connect again.

On one of the quiet days, I took a walk around, and a climb up on top of an excavator to take some photos. Here is your one and only tour, of the scrap metal yard.

The day after, the Smorgons Steel baler turned up and it wasn't so quiet. Imagine a giant crushing machine that a whole car (or a pile of metal) is fed into, squashed, and spat out the size of a bale of hay. The bales are then stacked onto a truck and transported to Melbourne, where the metal is recycled at a steel mill.

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New wheels and old memories

Summer's got a new shiny bicycle. While Brett dropped her old one at the recycle centre, he scored a bike for me. He drove home with it strapped to his roof racks.

It has a little surface rust, but otherwise, someone has too much money because there is nothing wrong with it. I still has dimples on the tyres! I am now a happy bike rider. We had a lovely Sunday last week, riding to a new café for lunch and then on to the playground. It was a great family outing. Since I have ridden to the library with the girls too. I do need to get a basket though.

I am no stranger to scrounging at the town dump. When I was a child, growing up in country Kalangadoo, Dad managed the local tip.

I spent many a weekend and school holiday foraging and fossicking through the towns discarded waste.

We got used to which bags contained Mrs Hayes' Great Dane shit, and which had toys and books. You never saw five kids move so fast when on of us yelled out "Toys!".

We had endless old cars to play in, and a herd of feral kittens to try catch. Mum never let us take them home.

In those days, all the old tyres were piled high and set on fire. The smell was atrocious, and we were mesmerised at the stories high plumes of the blackest smoke billowing into the sky. We were never allowed near.

General rubbish was graded up into piles and set alight too. These days we scrambled to find empty aerosol cans to throw into the burning flames. The exploding cans was fabulous entertainment for five little kids.

The lady down the road (who became one of mum's best friends), later told Mum how she felt sorry for her with her kids there.

I am aware now that some people probably looked down on us as kids. But it was just he way it was. We didn't feel sorry, we had a great time when Dad managed the dump!

Dad went on to run a successful scrap metal recycling business. We to this day, still call it Dad's supermarket. We'd always find something to take home after having a pick through.

Mums Christmas bells

 I turned up at Mums to find these hanging in the trees in her driveway. How friggin' cool are they?! She's just too bloody clever :)

 Made by spray painting plant pots gold, old mattress springs sprayed silver, some string, ribbon and cheap shop bell baubles.

 Her plant and fresh flower stall out the front of her house, everything is $3 a pot or bunch.

 The girls in their christmas regalia, in Poppys scrap yard by his shed. Where Mum sources her bits for the garden(like mattress springs!)

 Some of Mums other bright ideas for her garden and home with old mattress springs and old electricity conductors.

I'll be sharing some of her barbed wire creations soon!

Swingin' the desert dueler