Cutting your personal fossil fuel combustion behooves just about everyone and everything except the people who want you to burn more and make money off you. There are many simple ways you can reduce your carbon footprint, save money, do your small share to reduce global carbon emissions and feel righteous.
 
Let’s quickly look at some of the good things that come out of mowing your grass less, for example: 1) You burn less gasoline. 2) You save money. 3) The amount of exhaust you propel into the atmosphere goes down. 4) Your mower lasts longer between repairs.
 
Now, let’s look at some of the bad things that happen when you mow less: 1) Your exercising (perhaps) is reduced (which you can increase through some other activity). Hmmm, I can’t think of anything else. Feel free to weigh in here.
 
I bring up this mowing example because my wife took a section of our lawn out of grass cover and turned it into a mulched section of land with some other small ground cover plants that don’t require attention or mowing. That means every time I would be mowing, I’m instead relaxing doing something else, while knowing I’ve done my small part to stem the tide in global carbon emissions.

Who knows what would result from this type of action if every human with a yard eliminated 25 percent of their mowing. Or what if individuals pulled 50 percent or more of their grass mowing capacity off the weekly chores list? In the long run, with large commitments, this would be a helpful step statistically, emotionally and psychologically in the necessary movement for us humans to stem our ignition of carbon-based products.
 
I strongly believe people – individually and collectively – want to do their part to address how our climate has warmed and changed visibly over the past 25-30 years (and probably longer) due to the amount of carbon pumped into the atmosphere. Polling and statistics consistently show this to be the case. The cognitive dissonance appears to be that people don’t see the personal steps they can take on an individual basis, and how that would help collectively in the long run to make things better.
 
Reduction in lawn mowing is one step many can take. It takes no effort other than the work necessary to put some other landscaping in place to reduce the grassy area. Get your hands dirty, then wham, you’re done. Where’s the beer?
 
Hey, ya know, on the pessimistic side, taking a chunk of your lawn out of the mowing queue isn’t going to be an instantaneous dramatic change. If EVERYONE in the world did it, maybe there would be a 6.3 percent reduction in lawn mower emissions. That’s a start. Someone has pull the chord to start the engine to begin the race. It might as well be me and you.
 
If you add 6.3 percent from here and 6.3 percent from there and 6.3 percent from someplace else, we’re closing in on a 20 percent personal reduction in our carbon footprint. Yes, that’s a good thing, and becomes more than “just a start.” Maybe it becomes a trend. Maybe people stop being cynical and seize the moment to make a difference. Each of us has this choice.

​The concept of thinning isn’t new. It’s the process of cutting back, getting rid of things, deciding what you need and what you don’t. Then acting to eliminate the excess.
 
Pretty simple. It requires taking action. That’s where people get stuck. Many seem unable to take the first step to clean their garages or closets.
 
Thinning can pertain to many things, whether it’s old pictures, clothes or memorabilia. I’ve been wiping a few things out of our house over the last year, most recently digging through a file of “hoped for” future vacations or trips.
 
What drove me to take a look at the file was the growing realization that I’m not going to visit the majority of places in the file. Which means you must make a decision on which ones are more likely or important.
 
These places were saved as newspaper clips, usually from the Travel section. They make each location and activity sound great – bucolic, majestic, fun, entertaining, relaxing, invigorating. Hence, when reading the piece, I’d clip it out and file it away. “Maybe, some day…..”
 
That some day has arrived and it’s not going to happen. Hence, the need to thin.
 
Going through these travel stories, I was struck by my personal fantasy world and expectation of doing certain things during the remainder of my life. Some could still occur, and those were the ones I retained. But many of the clips no longer made sense, if they ever did.

For example, multiple skiing and cross country skiing resorts were in the file. I’ve rarely done either. But I thought someday I might choose to get out in the snow and challenge myself in magnificent winter settings. Nope. Not gonna do that anymore. Might get hurt, tear an ACL, permanently mess up my back. Toss out the ski vacations.
 
Next came some clips for trips in north Texas, where we used to live. That’s not happening now. Not taking a 15-hour drive to explore a state park at the Oklahoma-Texas border when there are many wonderful state parks within four hours of our house. Throw those vacations out.
 
Then there were the mountain biking excursions. With the aging process, any desire to take my mountain bike over rough terrain through woods and rock-strewn paths has disappeared. Crumpled those clips.
 
Three stood out as future options, but with a more realistic bent, which meant cutting out the ones too far away or boring. Make those choices. Train rides, hiking and winter cabin retreats all stayed as possible future options, but I got rid of any that realistically weren’t going to be part of our future agenda.
 
Finally, there was golf. I still play, still want to take trips, but have lost interest in “bucket list” courses. I don’t want to pay $750+ for a one-time visit on a course just to say I played golf where some major pro tourney was held. There are too many other beautiful, fun, scenic, quiet and quirky courses to motivate me. Those stayed. The high-end cost courses hit the waste basket.

There. The files are thinned. From a four-inch thick pile of newspaper clippings, I down to a stack under two inches. That’s progress. I’m thinned out. Now I need to apply this concept to my stomach.

​For those of you who read this column with a degree of regularity, you have perhaps heard of the “Double El Klutzo.” It is a renowned maneuver of clumsiness exhibited by myself and my two brothers, a syndrome inherited from our father.

It is recognized when you step off the sidewalk into the street and massively sprain your ankle in a tiny crack in the road. This must be followed in the same day by another unbelievably simple act like bonking your head on the golf cart as you try to sit back down, demolishing your hat as your partner runs over it when it falls from your head. The “Double El Klutzo” occurs when you have two of these types of acts in one day.
 
The famed “Triple El Klutzo” takes your demonstrable clod talent to the next level – you must have three body demolitions in one day. This is rare. But it can be done. Witness:
 
Two weeks ago, I walked our dogs down one of our usual paths. Being the good Samaritan that I am, I saw a beer can in the woods, with some sticker bushes between myself and the can I chose to pick up and return home for recycling. Very gingerly and with expert care, I tamped down the sticker bush with one foot so I could not attack me as I reached for the can.
 
As I stepped over with the other leg, the back of the sticker bush boinged upwards, raking the back of my calf, sending two long jagged wounds home with me for the day. New curse words emerged from my mouth.
 
The Double El Klutzo was achieved in my never-ending quest to rid our yard of the devil – buckthorn. This insidious and evil invasive species has a special page in my book of things I hate. I chop it, spray it, pull it, bury it, whatever it takes.

This day was a spray day and as I focused on the buckthorn shoots emerging from the earth, I failed to watch where my head was going (not that we watch our heads all that often). Taking a long stride, I slammed my forehead into a branch, knocking my baseball cap off and opening a two-inch gash that now must be amusingly explained to people who inquire of my forehead scab.
 
Achieving the Triple El Klutzo, after I thought I’d finished for the day with the double, occurred as I was preparing to make a sandwich and removed a new mustard container given to me by my brother-in-law. As is often the case with things I put away, I failed to secure the lid. Pulling the mustard container out (of course it is a glass container), the top comes off in my hand and the glass jar sails to the slate kitchen floor.

Ever the soccer goalie, I kick the jar to keep it from shattering. This, of course, doesn’t stop half the mustard contents from exploding across the floor. There was a certain righteousness in not smashing the glass, and an internal chuckle knowing that mustard splash spread across five feet of the floor qualified me for the triple.
 
The Quadruple El Klutzo awaits. I’ve probably done it before, but not catalogued the feat. There is still time. I have the talent. It lurks.

​There aren’t too many things in this world that taste better than making a delicious bowl of guacamole from scratch. Watching a waitperson mix up a bowl at your table in the restaurant gets the salivary glands activated. Then, when you dig in, the freshness zings you. Makes you want to create it yourself at home. At least it does for me.
 
Recently, I began making guacamole from scratch at home. This was driven primarily by the rising price of pre-prepared guac in the three supermarkets we use. It didn’t matter which one you went to – the price was astronomical.
 
That led to the foraging for the right ingredients, ones that you want in the dish and are properly ripe. This pertains mostly to the avocados. Not ripe enough and you can’t squash them. Too ripe and they are mealy. Picking the right ones is an art form – gotta give it just the right squeeze to feel the softness.
 
Once I figured that out, I determined where to get the best avocados. From there, a determination had to be made on what else to add. One part of the equation for my wife and I is dialing down the jalapeno factor as she is very sensitive to hot spices. The easiest decision was to eliminate the burning peppers.

From there, my mind went to: “What do you like? When you’ve eaten the best guac, what were the ingredients that popped out?”
 
This, too, became a relatively easy question to answer: tomatoes, onions, lime juice, a touch of salt, red pepper. How to chop, cut, dice was next.
 
Having gotten feedback not to have these ingredients overwhelm the avocado, I diced them in smaller amounts after peeling and dropping two perfect avocados into the mixing dish. First the tomatoes, then the onions, red pepper and a splash of lime juice (you can, of course, squeeze a real lime in there, which probably is a better idea for freshness and taste).
 
Mash it, slowly. You don’t want to turn the mixture to a paste. Slowly work all the ingredients together, pushing them together with a serving-size fork to allow the avocados to not only mix with their partners, but also absorb into each other. This is important. Get it smooth, but leave some chunks in there for texture.
 
Once this looks good (taste to see if it fits your buds). Grab a chip. Get the crunch texture with the guacamole and see how they interact before moving to the salt.
 
I’m not a big salt person. I do think guac must have a touch of it. I grab a pinch, sprinkle it on top, give it one more mixing.
 
Back to munching your creation with chips, and if successful, proudly bring it to those you are serving. They will love you. It’s a great feeling.
 
If you want the heat, but all means, add those jalapeno peppers. Know your audience beforehand to be sure.
 
Cilantro, another all-time great spice, can also be inserted. I’ve found cilantro haters and cilantro lovers, with many more falling into the latter category. If you happen to have your consumers falling into the hater category, leave the cilantro on the side and let folks drop it in their batch to season to taste.

You are now an expert guac maker. Get out there and dominate the avocados.