Scraping the Sides

I pulled my gray and yellow handled scissor out of the drawer and used it to slice open the ziploc baggie.  Then I grabbed my spoon to scrape the remaining morsels of peanut butter.  And the whole time this was going on, I was thinking of my grandma.  I remember her using everything until the very final drop.  Toothpaste tubes curled up neatly and then eventually cut open to reveal the last of the last dollops.  Cottage cheese containers washed and used to store those fresh strawberries from the garden.  A squirt of water added to the shampoo bottle to shake and make hair squeaky a few more times.  Greeting cards saved to make decorative place mats.

She figured out a way to make everything useful and wasted nothing. 

So this morning, when my spoon was getting after that stuck to the sides peanut butter, I thought of my grandma.  The one who saved and used everything.  And I thought of my young self scoffing at the idea of reusing and conserving.  Oh how we change as we grow.

Earlier last week, a friend asked me, "Do you use real oatmeal?  Like the kind that comes in the canister?"  I replied, "Yes I sure do."  To which she smiled and said, "I figured you did and can you save the canister for me?  I have a little project I want to use it for."  

Of course.  Of course I will save the oatmeal canister so my friend can add some pretty paper and ribbon to transform Mr. Quaker into a headband holder for her little girl.  Because now I don't scoff at the idea of saving and reusing and scraping peanut butter from the sides of a plastic baggie.  Now I'm all about figuring out ways to be better about not taking advantage of all that we have.  I'll all about getting back to our roots.  

Except in the case of glitter glue.  I realize that is not something involved in the roots of our ways.  But my justification is that it can turn something old and boring into something that makes me want to jump up and down while cheerleader yelling.  Besides, I figure if I'm putting the glitter glue on something I already had, it's like the finest form of recycling.  

And here's where I get back to being serious for a moment and say that I still, to this day, find myself missing my grandma.  There are these odd brief times when I wish so much she could be with me.  And every single time one of those flashes of remembrance occur, I realize exactly how much of a formidable force she was in my life.  Molding me and shaping me and teaching me when I didn't even know it.  The sad part is, now I get it and I can't tell her or show her.  But I have a feeling she knows.  In fact, I have a feeling she is still the one guiding me along in this crazy thing called life.

Scraping peanut butter from the sides and saving oatmeal canisters.  Here's to you Grandma Gladys.  Here's to you.