little hole-punch confetti things

we are obsessive recyclers at our house. it's been this way for most of my life. nothing gets thrown away that could potentially be ground up and washed by somebody to be turned into a shower curtain or box of tissues. there have been times i've thrown little slips of paper away, and my father (who has the reclamation radar) will come roaring downstairs to fish it out of the trash. he usually follows these diggings by saying: "hey, this can be recycled!" he then proceeds to tell us how they are now able to turn things like plastic yogurt containers into roads or donald trump skyscrapers or playground equipment--you know, simple things like that. we even recycle those little confetti things that remain after you use the hole punch--let's just say, those are a challenge to get to the recycling center!

which brings me to the piece de resistance of our lives as recyclers. yesterday we were at my dad's work for the tailings of a Christmas party. right outside the shop there is a Christmas tree recycling center where you drop off your tree after the holidays (very appropriate for my father, don't you think?). someone had already wrapped up their christmasing, and recycled their tree. little did they imagine what recycling that tree *actually* meant. i'm sure they thought it would be put in the wood chipper to be ground into a zillion pieces and become the mulch under somebody's bush. we had other plans for it's recycling....it is now sitting in our entryway with presents underneath to welcome with holiday cheer. and it smells lovely. once a recycler, now a recyclee.