The late great George Carlin had a bit that I always loved.

He mocked those environmentalists who insisted they were "saving the earth" through their efforts.

"The earth will be fine," he would say. "The earth used to be molten rock. For all we know, the earth created us just because it needed something added to the eco-system, maybe plastic."

He may have been joking, but every time I go to Jim Crater's Recycling Services Inc. in North Coventry, I wonder if maybe that old cynic Carlin wasn't right. We sure seem to have made a lot of the stuff.

Most of the recycling operation is pretty simple in my house.

The stuff that the borough collects at the curb goes in the bin under the sink. And the rest goes into my little recycling center in the basement.

I've saved a couple of large boxes to hold cardboard. We have batteries in one bag, aluminum foil in another and one for metal lids and such.

All the rest of our effort in house has to do with sorting and storing the 18 million different types of plastic.

When you think if recycling plastic, you think of the water and soda bottles, maybe the one that held your favorite apple sauce. The stuff that's easy to recycling and easy to find a market for.

But when you start to look for it, you find it's everywhere and in everything and it's the weird stuff that is hard to recycle. Luckily for this area, Jim Crater is relentless and resourceful and has found niche markets for all kinds of plastics.

If you have a child under 15, then you know that nothing you buy them, with the possible exception of organic vegetables, comes without one of those form-fitted plastic packages that requires a chainsaw to open.

(In fact, some manufacturers have finally gotten religion and are making an effort to make their packaging a little less intimidating, as was featured in this Nov. 15 New York Times article .)

With Christmas just around the corner, I've begun to hunt up my bolt cutters and hacksaw in preparation for the Christmas morning wrestling match with the plastic fortresses those damn elves put on everything.

Christmas coming is also why I had to go to RSI Tuesday. I had to make room for the new influx.

Which brings me to the inspiration for this little ditty -- Jennifer Mendez and Jess Henion, the two volunteers who are masters of all things plastic.

The key to an efficient trip to the recycling center is preparation. Separating the items before you get there makes things go smoothly and keeps you from getting underfoot with the people who run the place, literally, in their spare time.

But as much as I try, the plastics always get co-mingled. There are just too many types.

I've mastered the easy stuff: Straws, microwave dinner trays, screw caps, but then even they got tricky and I had to start separating the pull tabs from milk cartons and water bottle tops from the soda tops from the plastic tabs that keep bread bags closed.

I try to keep up, but recognizing the inevitable, my largest box is the one for when I just give-up and toss it in there with the weak-kneed rationalization that "I'll figure it out later."

The easiest thing to do when it comes time to make the trip is to pull out the largest volume of mixed plastics and "leave the rest for the next time."

In our house, that means the crinkly clear containers that are used for things like baked goods from Giant. When I'm in a rush (always) I can reduce the volume in the box by filling a giant garbage bag with just that.

But eventually, the big box has to be emptied and that's when I am truly at the mercy of Jennifer and Jess, two of the most merciful people I've met.

I am constantly amazed at the patience they exhibit as I (and a hundred other supplicants) bring tiny bits of mystery plastic to them, pleading to know what number it is so we can put it in the right bin.

It's an important skill because the companies Crater has lined up to take these plastics need the stock to be pure. All the sixes need to be sixes, and not have a random four or five mixed in, otherwise it can contaminate the load and we might not soon have a place to take these plastics any more, leaving us no choice but to send it to the landfill.

No matter what they're doing, Jennifer or Jess stop and conduct a series of their particular tests that seem to require all the senses but taste.

If they can, they'll crinkle it to hear what it sounds like, bend it to see if a particular tell-tale white stress line appears. My favorite is when they tap it lightly on the side of the bin and can tell by what kind of ping it makes.

I have yet to see them taste one, but I won't be too surprised if I see it one day.

They always try to explain the trick in the hope, no doubt a vain one in my case, that I'll remember and won't have to ask next time. But my brain is so porous these days that I can't even remember what they've said from minute to minute.

And yet, despite my asking of the same question over and over, something which would have my sarcasm gene working over-drive if I were in their shoes, these two princesses of the plastic perform the same test and try, patiently to teach it to the drooling idiot standing before them.

They both have the same quiet, deliberate manner and (they say I'm not the only one to remark on this) they're even starting to look alike.

I keep trying to pull obscure plastics (is there such a thing?) out of my bag of tricks to see if I can stump them, but I never succeed.

Instead, it's me that gets stumped, time and time again.

I don't know what I'd do without RSI's plastic mavens, but we're lucky to have them.

Maybe I should get them something for Christmas ... something wrapped in plastic.