Organic just not healthy enough to justify cost ...!

(From Reuters:) Researchers from the London School of Hygiene & Tropical Medicine said consumers paid higher prices for organic food in part because of its perceived health benefits, creating a global organic market worth an estimated $48 billion in 2007.

A systematic review of 162 scientific papers published in the scientific literature over the last 50 years, however, found there was no significant difference.

"A small number of differences in nutrient content were found to exist between organically and conventionally produced foodstuffs, but these are unlikely to be of any public health relevance," said Alan Dangour, one of the report's authors.

"Our review indicates that there is currently no evidence to support the selection of organically over conventionally produced foods on the basis of nutritional superiority."

The results of research, which was commissioned by the British government's Food Standards Agency, were published in the American Journal of Clinical Nutrition.

Peter Melchett, policy director of Britain's Soil Association, which promotes organic farming, said he was disappointed by the conclusions reached by the study's authors.

He criticized the methodology of the study, which he said had led researchers to reject some clear nutritional benefits as "not important."

Melchett also pointed out there was not sufficient research to assess the long-term effects of pesticides on human health.

***

And that last statement is kind of huge. And yet, do we really need studies to confirm the fact that autism, cancer, obesity, ADHD, ADD, depression and a myriad of other diseases affects the population? Just ask yourself, who do I know that has one of these ailments?

There is, of course, no "proof" that eating pesticides does harmful things to the body. But then again, there is common sense. If I eat chemicals, I wonder if it is good? Really, do you wonder? Because I don't. I believe that chemicals kill. Slowly. And I believe that articles like this are disastrous (as is their intent) towards relaying the message that not only is organic food better for your body -- it is also better for the planet.

As oil is pumped into our oceans ruining countless ecosystems and entire industries, no one seems to mention that that really isn't good for us. Is it just because we already know it? Or are you going to believe the article that comes out (and believe me, it will) in the future that insists that eating all the fish that has lived in an oil slick is ABSOLUTELY FINE~!

It is interesting -- some people believe that the world will come to an end in 2012 because of the end of the mayan calendar. Now THAT seems believable, but ingesting chemicals is ABSOLUTELY FINE~!

Here's the deal. Studies do not show that organic food has any NUTRITIONAL value over conventional food. I might even believe that, based on the fact that the study is searching for just one thing: nutritional value. It is basically saying that you receive the same NUTRITIONAL value from both foods, but one costs a fortune and the other doesn't. Yeah, great reporting. Yep, that's all it's about. We have an outdated food pyramid, nutritionists don't even know what is nutritious, and yet a simple study bellowing that you can stop paying all that extra money for food is like a free pass to the chemical line.

So yippie, it has the same nutritional value. Fine. I am not going to argue because I am not a scientist. Here is what I do know. A piece of food that is grown in soil that is enriched with natural ingredients, that in turn nourishes the earth right back, tastes better, doesn't fill the body with toxins that our organs need to work over-time to dispel from our bodies and keeps us on the same vibrational level as the earth.

Here is what I do when I go to a food store. I find the organic stuff and I buy it. I don't compare costs because in my world, chemical food will make me sick, it will live in my cells for years and years and accumulate until it bursts out in cancer. Why would I pay any amount of money for that, when I can actually purchase something that won't. There is no choice -- there just is. Good food versus killer food. It is that black and white for me. And the deeper you get into it -- the more you realize how adversely "bad" food affects you. When I eat processed or white sugar food, my entire body goes into revolt. When I eat pure, natural food, everything just gets better. The birds sing louder and the world is in technicolor and energy shoots through me.

Your body has enough to deal with in the toxins it confronts on a daily basis. Don't add more with your food.

Sneaky Snakes EVERYWHERE

I am not sure what the universe is trying to tell me, but believe me, I am doing my best to LISTEN.

Freedom Acres: Ophidiophobia -- E-I-E-I-O

This was exactly a year ago -- when I killed the snake with the lawn mower. And made me realize I have a problem that is not getting better, but worse.

So I was out planting in my garden when the tall grass around it kept riffling in the wind. I kept thinking snakes, so I decided to mow it. I was using the push mower and rounding the corner, when the snake reared its ugly head, I let go of the mower and ran to the patio and did my screaming gig.

The snake took up some statuesque pose and I wasn't sure if it was dead or alive. Except it seemed to have its head raised, so it was unlikely that a dead snake could do that. Or could it? I stood there, and stood there, and stood there. I don't know why. I was trying to rationalize with myself that being fearful of such a small thing was ridiculous. (I think I was being less rational and more or less BERATING myself for being such a weenie.)

So, I am thinking okay, this snake thing needs to be dealt with, when a SECOND snake slithers out from the black covering over the garden and does its S turns towards me. Seriously, ANOTHER snake? TWO SNAKES?

Suddenly I am Indiana Jones in the temple of hell with the snakes. I am sure the entire garden is seething with them. I have that tickle butt hair raising goosebump reaction and do some more screaming for good measure. WHAT THE FUCK?

That is all I can think. This is unfair! What have I done to encourage TWO snakes to attack me? (Okay, so they were actually not interested in me at all, but who cares, this is my story and I'm sticking to it!)

So both snakes end up under the lawn mower, and I run away and go into the house and tell everyone I know my bad news!

Fast forward to today. Peter and I were building a fence around the garden. Maddie went uptown and bought us sandwiches, and we sat on the patio to eat. I told Peter my snake story. He rolled his eyes and said I was ridiculous. I said fine, I don't necessarily disagree, but still, they freak me out. So then he stands up, gets a shovel, and walks toward the stone wall which is about two feet from where I am sitting, and says to me, do you want me to kill it?

Kill what?

Then I see it. A sneaky snake with its tail trailing out of a hole in the wall and its little head staring at me with its beady eyes. Taunting me. Daring me to make a stand. I am once again besieged with the thought that the place is just CRAWLING with snakes. Come on! Just stay out of my line of vision and we will both be fine. Right?

The thought of Peter killing it upsets me more than the actual snake itself watching me eat lunch (go figure) and I insist that no, I intellectually know that the snake does a lot of good and some how we all just need to get along. And then I proceeded to glance at the wall every 30 seconds as we continued with the fence. Peter remarked on it, and I said well, there is some comfort knowing that the snake is there, basking in the sun, as opposed to terrorizing me.

THEN ... and this is where it turns back into a horror movie, a small snake slithers OUT of the black covering material over the garden and peeks at us. SHIT. I had just managed to get the picture of the entire garden writhing with snakes underneath me as I planted OUT OF MY HEAD and that was really for naught, because clearly I am in a snake-infested garden from hell.

Two snakes a day is just not going to work for me!

IT IS FREAKING ME OUT!

The text daze craze has come to your town

Isn't this expression becoming all too familiar? You see it on your children's faces, your friends, and of course, perfect strangers.

It is the text daze ...

So. Yesterday we were in Concord and decided we needed to go have a bite to eat and a margarita at LongHorn's after a very successful afternoon of shopping. (We finally have all the pieces for the upstairs bathroom ... once the sink is in, we are D O N E!) The place was not crowded at all -- it was too early for dinner -- and we had a front row parking spot and our choice of seats at the bar.

When I went to the rest room, there was a woman leaning against the wall in line for a stall, and she had the glazed look of a seasoned texter. She of course, did not remove her eyes from the screen to acknowledge my existence.

After about 15 seconds of my standing there, I thought to myself that I had been to this restaurant a LOT over the years, and when the parking lot had been so full I had to drive around to find a spot. And even when it was that crazy crowded, I had NEVER stood in line to go to the bathroom. So what was up? There was no one in the parking lot, how could there be a line for the bathroom?

So I said to the texter, "are you in line?"

It was then that she peeled her eyes away from her screen to realize that there was a human being standing there before her. Her eyes actually RETURNED to the screen and she resumed her pecking on the teeny keyboard and shook her head.

Umm, what does that mean? She isn't in line? She doesn't know if she is in line? Seriously, should I ask her her phone number, return to my car to find my phone (which I have no problem disconnecting from my persona because I actually prefer to live my life in living color) and then text her and ask the question so she could answer in the language she is most fluent in?

So I repeated myself. "Are you in line? I mean, you know, to use the toilet?" (I didn't know if she would confuse my question with being in line to text her next.)

Again! She looked at me, with that faraway look that texter's have that is a dead give-away to the fact that they are NOT listening to you.

I actually had to go to the bathroom, that was why **I** was there. Why was she? Was she afraid to go into a stall because she might drop her lifeline into the bowl? Cuz, if she didn't answer me soon, **I** was going to toss her little StupidBerry into next year.

She pushed the send key then said to me, "I am waiting for my son, he is in that stall," she motioned with her phone-heavy hand. "I don't know if there is anyone in the other stalls, you'll have to look."

Why thank you, I thought, shooting her daggers from my eyes that would have scared her had she actually been looking at me and not her stupid phone. ALL of the stalls were open, I am not even sure her son was in there. He could have easily left ten minutes ago and she wouldn't have noticed. In fact, now that I write this, I don't think there was a son at all. Because I never heard a flush, and when I came out of my stall, she was applying a fresh layer of mascara to herself. No small (or large) child in sight. All stalls empty.

Do you think maybe she was texting the child and forgot that he wasn't there at all? I was curious to see if she would acknowledge my existence without her phone in her palm, and I gave her a big smile in the mirror.

I got nothing. She was totally enraptured with her task. Here I was, so close I could feel the heat from her body, and she didn't even know I was there. Or I should say, give a shit that I was there.

What is wrong with a little human connection? Can you ONLY communicate with someone via texting? Is there some law that says once you become a diehard texter, you have to shun normal contact because you might realize that your life is small and under 1,000 characters per conversation?

I text, to make plans with friends, to shoot out little tidbits of information. Sometimes, when I am driving in the car as a passenger, I will text a full conversation back and forth with someone. (I do not text and drive though. While I haven't officially signed Oprah's pledge, I am certainly of the mindset that I have nothing that important to say to anyone that can't wait until it is safe to relay that information.) I believe that I use texting in a healthy manner and I am not obsessed or crazed or shunning face-to-face contact for the wonder of words tossed about the ether and delivered with a buzz or a beep.

I used to love little gadgets, but as I watch people turn into zombies I am really turned off by it all. I have found that I am going the other way (which is totally my personality. Once EVERYONE is doing it, then I am done!) I spend much less time on the computer than I used to; and I make a point to leave my phone behind when I am doing something where it makes far more sense to be in the moment, then to believe that there is anything I can't wait several hours to find out. I don't want to be accessible to anyone and everyone at all times. The worst thing you can do is have your phone attached to you ALL the time. Because then when someone calls and you DON'T answer, then someone thinks something is wrong with you. Or that something has happened. Where could they be? They ALWAYS answer their phone.

I have never always had my phone with me -- and I am thankful beyond belief that I don't work in a world where you are expected to do so. I dodged that bullet, and I am extremely thankful. I have to constantly monitor myself to keep myself from getting sucked into such things -- even the blogging is a time suck -- though I enjoy it and will never let it become a job. That is why I haven't been as regular -- been too busy watching the world come alive.

This spring has been so beautiful to witness. Everywhere I go I marvel at the transformation of a world that was sort of dingy and gray turning into a palette of color and activity. I am highly aware of gardens in the yards of the houses I pass, either walking or driving. I take note at how far they have come since the last time I passed. I oogle their pea fences and since I just planted a raspberry bush patch, I am now on the lookout for those. I saw one this morning -- little plants just like mine, and I wondered if mine would grow straight up like that, or get more bushy.

Anyway. This is the deal. If you come into a restroom and I am standing there, I will not have a phone in my hot little hand and I won't ignore you. I promise. I still believe that the person standing right next to me is worthy of my recognition -- even if I am desperate to text a friend that the line in the bathroom sucks.

:)

That was creepy

Despite my best efforts to stay under the radar -- I am afraid I am out there with the rest of you!

While it is true that I have always felt perfectly comfortable putting out my credit card information online to receive products -- all the while knowing of course that there were cookies galore being baked all about me -- I have still tried to not put myself out there as much as "they," (yeah yeah, my favorite they!) would like. For example, I always use a certain name and altered address when I am asked for things I don't really want to give my info out to. (And I can't tell you how many times I've seen that name and almost my address in my mailbox!)

And I refused to be fingerprinted when the school system used fear to instill the fact that there were all sorts of predators volunteering in our schools and the only way to stop it was to get on record. Yeah, right. I am happy that to this day I can commit a crime and not wipe up my fingerprints and still not get caught! (Kidding. Just kidding.)

What I am saying is that I am AWARE that it's all about collecting as much information on a person as possible -- for whatever reason -- be it marketing or just to keep an eye on someone. But I don't like it when I use my CELL PHONE to make a phone call to cancel an account, and they know who I am. That concerns me. A lot.

Hallie had ordered Proactiv years and years ago, and they sent it automatically every month. It is an account in my name, and I am sure that my house phone number is attached to it. But my cell phone? Somewhere, someplace, I put out my cell phone number along with my regular home phone, and some data collection agency forwarded that information on to those who wanted it. So, when I make a phone call, they know who it is.

I do not like this. I do not like to call an 800 number, go through the voice mail rigamarole (and I did NOT put in ANY information, like an account number) and then 10 minutes later have a human say "Hello Lisa, how are you today? I am so sorry to hear you no longer want to receive our solution. Perhaps we could ..."

Unreal. I wonder what they do in that ten minutes. Go through your entire life's purchasing history and try to figure out the best way to get you to stay? They totally lost me at "Hello, Lisa," I will tell you this. The MOMENT the woman said it, there was no touching me.

I have gone from a bitch to ruthless when it comes to telemarketers. When I pick up my phone (a phone I might add I do not pay actual money to be told WHO is calling me!) the second I hear that dead zone before the telemarketer's phone kicks in, I hang up. Or if I am not quick enough, I scream TAKE ME OFF YOUR DAMN LIST and then hang up. Either way, you ain't selling me anything.

So if those data collection agencies (or THEY) are reading this, just take it to heart. I am done consuming. I want nothing you are selling. I don't care if it will make me lose weight, take care of my acne or enlarge my penis. I DO NOT WANT IT.

Now I feel as though I have left far too many bread crumbs in the woods and they lead right to me. I wish those damn birds would eat them -- but funny thing, life isn't a fairy tale. Even if it seems as though the Big Bad Witch has your number (and your name) and is watching your every move in her crystal ball.

I don't like it.

I want OFF the grid.

The wind and the tree and sort of kind of me

Stop trying to do so much so that you won't feel lost.

Dare to lose yourself.

Lose yourself in love -- and fear will slip away.

These are little nuggets of soul CPR that I just received in a newsletter.

I was feeling anxious because it is really, really, REALLY windy here. Like, when some gusts were coming through the window, I physically held my breath and cringed ... waiting. For what? The house to blow away?

The whistling through the screen and the ultimate force almost felt as though it needed to be reckoned with. But what could I do? I can't control the wind. (Or can I?!!!!) I walked around the house and made sure everything that could potentially fly away was secured. Dogs seemed to be able to withstand it. In fact, they weren't even lifting their heads when the world around them seemed ready to take flight like the wisps of some plant detritus that swirled by.

There is a tree in my front yard that is huge. And when a wind like this comes through -- the branches go up and down and back and forth (not at the same time) and it almost seems as though it is going to uproot itself and take off.

But if you look straight at the base, at the solid trunk of the tree, it never wavers. Not even the slightest whisper of movement interrupts its steady hold to the planet.

Life is kind of like that, if you think of it. You shake your arms and nod your head back and forth and up and down and even your feet and legs go this way and that. But the core -- the center of your body -- it remains pretty still no matter what you do to it. We are that core, if we take the time to still the extraneous parts of our bodies. We can be as solid as that tree out there -- which doesn't shiver in the onslaught of crazy winds. Its job is to nourish itself so that it remains strong enough to keep those branches from flying off due to weakness or instability.

It's really the only job we all have.

Stop trying to do so much that you won't feel lost. You are already found. You always have been. You just let the wind push you around.

It's funny. The wind has calmed down.

And so have I.

24

As in 24 miles!

I am love, love, loving this walking gig! As I stated earlier, the first week was a bit draining, but this week I am feeling goooooooooooooooooooood! Today we both realized that our turn-around point came up quicker than it has since we started ... and when we reached the cars, we both weren't moaning and groaning!

It's all good. This morning when I drove Charlie to school it was raining. I had my raincoat and was all good to go. By the time we started our walk, the sun was trying to come out. I was so overdressed it isn't even funny. What a wacky spring.

We are excited to reach 30 miles tomorrow -- and then we need to start talking about going further. I am going to go buy a pair of those Sketcher sneakers that are all the rage today. My sneakers aren't cutting the mustard -- today it felt as though I experienced every rock I stepped on. Not using my hiking boots has definitely cut down on the blisters (and the pedicure really seemed to help too, which is excellent, always nice to have an excuse for a regular pedicure!)

And because it takes a few hours to do this, I am falling out of the habit of blogging. After I dropped Charlie off was when I would do it.

Oh well. Of course, when you are yakking it up with a friend for a few hours, it's not like you feel the need to get anything off your chest! Heck, we dump and unload the entire time!~ We will be the two most healthy human beings on the planet! And we'll be able to walk it too!!!

Walk walk walk

Last week a friend and I decided that we would walk every day. Six miles. Since we both drop off our kids at school and end up by a walking trail at generally the same time, we figured we would give it a go.

The first few days were fine, the later days were brutal. Not the actual walk itself, but how it was sucking the life force from me! It was a crazy week weather wise. We walked in a blizzard and we walked in a heat wave. On the same week. It was ridiculous trying to figure out what to wear, and because some days were actually cold, we weren't hydrating properly. I went to bed two nights in a row with a headache ... but I was too tired to put two and two together!

Today I walked with water. That should help. And I don't feel quite as exhausted as I did even yesterday -- when by late afternoon it is hard to even hold my head up!

Now, I know we are going about it completely wrong. You aren't supposed to kill yourself, and I know there are all these theories on training, cross training, blah blah blah. I don't care. Nope, I don't care. I can tell it is getting easier and soon enough we will be able to extend our six miles to even longer. Not that we need to -- but I love to distance walk ( and so do the dogs!)

Yesterday we treated ourselves (after the walk of course) to pedicures. Oh, it felt soooooooooo good to have them massaged. OHMYGOD. We decided we have to do that at least once a month. That in itself is enough incentive for me to keep up the hoofing.

Once school is done, we can kick it up by going to different places, but right now the routine of meeting at the same place every morning is working. The first few mornings I had trouble getting dressed and ready by 7:00 -- which is when I have to leave. I was all discombobulated and out of sorts, but in one short week it is now quite easy to jump into walking clothes and go. (It also helps that these two days of this week have been hot, versus a snow storm!) Shorts and a T-shirt are easy; trying to decided if I need boots is a whole 'nother ball of wax.

It is amazing how much the path has changed in a week -- all the buds on the trees have transformed into leaves and the trail is now enclosed in a canopy of greenery. Gorgeous. The bugs, of course, have come on full force, and while I hate to do it, the bug spray must go on.

Oh! Good news! For the past week, whenever I had to get out of a chair, I would be all crooked and cramped and shuffle like a little old lady for a few minutes as everything creaked into place. The phone just rang (and of course the one on my desk was dead) and I had to rush to get to another one. I walked erect immediately! I just love progress.

It's a good amount of daily exercise for all involved; the old dog (going on 12) doesn't look any more tired than the younger dog (pushing 3). They are both sprawled across the front lawn looking quite dead! (I must admit though, that I look quite closely to see if the older dog is still breathing!) She made it quite clear last week that she wasn't going to be left behind. When I opened the door to let Lucy in, she came barreling out of nowhere and jumped in and looked at me as though she dared me to make her leave! I said fine, you want to go you can go, but you're going to be sorry later. The past few times that I had taken her on long walks, she had had a hard time getting up afterwards and was really stiff.

Well. She proved me wrong! You'd never even know she's been on a walk -- other than being tired and sprawled on the lawn! -- because she keeps going and going and going and seems fine. I think it has actually helped with her stiffness, which only goes to reinforce you are never too old to do what you love to do. And I figure, if she drops dead on the trail, she's gone as one happy dog!

Now I am off to plant sunflower seeds everywhere. The ones I planted a few weeks ago are starting to come up, which has prompted me to put in more. It's going to look so cool! And it's also time to thin out my lettuce seedlings and plant the peas. (I know, it's kind of late for the peas, but they will be fine.)

My cellar stinks and my hands are ruined

No, that isn't some type of code speak -- my cellar really stinks.

My office tends to get the odors first -- I am right over the area that gets damp -- whether it be from sweat from the hot water tank or water oozing in from the foundation.

We used to think that the smell was due to the fact that when we weren't home, we put the dogs down there. It's actually not a gross basement -- one half is quite dry and Peter has his desk down there, the furnace has its own room, and it's always warm and toasty. The dogs choose to do down there all winter long because it is so pleasant. But all of a sudden it seemed that the dogs were peeing and pooping down there during the days we would be gone for hours on end, and so ... it had to stop. So they are forbidden to go down there.

And yet .... it continues to smell.

I am very susceptible to smells -- I can smell someone smoking a cigarette in a car driving by me with all windows closed. No, seriously.

So to have my house smell from a nasty basement odor is unacceptable.

Of course I googled it, and I found out that if you put out bowls of vinegar, it would help with the smell. This actually worked. But then, the smell figured it out or something. The smell grew stronger than the vinegar. It metastasized or something. It's the cancer of smells.

And I can't stand it. I truly can't.

On another note, Peter and I built the glass blocked wall for the upstairs shower today. Let me tell you how that went. I was beat this morning -- I didn't have to get up to take anyone to school and everyone left so the house was totally and completely silent. I didn't even open up my eyes until 9:00. And then ... I closed them and went back to sleep for another hour! It was awesome. My theory is that if you can sleep that long, then you needed the sleep. It felt great. So at 10:30 I was sitting at my computer sipping a cup of coffee -- I don't drink coffee very often, but on those mornings when I feel like I can't get going, it tastes delicious.

I was in my jammies, and Peter said, come on, I need your help. Now I was psychologically prepared to do this wall -- but I wasn't actually ready at that very moment. I thought he was kind of saying he needed my help at that actual moment. I went upstairs, coffee in hand, and he was mixing up grout in a big bucket. I put on a pair of old shorts and a shirt, and ... oh wait, I forgot something. The sun had started to come out, and the kids wanted to have friends over for dinner. I said that sounds great -- and texted a bunch of people to see if they wanted to come over for a BBQ. Then I put down the phone and went upstairs.

We started putting the block in, grouting between each one, and I actually got quite into it. I didn't use tools -- I found that using my fingers to smooth out the grout between the blocks was easier. About halfway up I was great. The second half was much harder. My stomach was grumbling, when I would lean down to pick up fallen grout and then stand up, I would get dizzy. I was like, WHAT IS GOING ON? But this is a job that once you start, you can't stop, because you have to get all the block in before the grout hardens so that you can get it to fit. And we had to take the second to last row out and make the layer of grout less to fit the final row of block in. It was getting brutal.

Then Charlie came up with my phone. Here I had texted a bunch of people at 11:30 telling them to come over that night, and then promptly left the phone on my desk. And for the first time I looked at my watch. It was THREE THIRTY! Geesh. I hadn't eaten anything but half a cup of coffee -- hmmmm, no wonder I was getting dizzy!

Anyway, all crazy, crazy, crazy. And the worst of it all, my hands are RUINED. They are so dry I keep putting cream on them and it makes no difference. They are making me bonkers.

But the wall looks amazing. And I guess every time I shower I can examine my grout lines and know I did that. With no food, no drink and no tools.

Damn. If only I could fix the cellar smell.