Category Archives: HMN Reports

Product investigations

The Basics

I'm not always good.

Over Easter weekend, Josie’s grandma sent her a beaded bracelet. I was sitting at Josie’s little table, my knees tucked comfortably under my chin, when Josie decided Mommy should wear the bracelet. I pulled my fingers together and she slid it onto my wrist. Then she took one step back, crossed her arms, tilted her head to one side and then to the other and said, “Oh, cute!”

I don’t know exactly when she saw me do that but it was clearly me. No question. We’ve moved into the mimic phase. Speaking of little mimics, I have a funny story to share: one day when my sister went to pick up her two-and-a-half-year-old from daycare, my niece pulled a baggie of snacks out of her bag, held it up and said, I kid you not, “These aren’t my f*cking goldfish.” Gee, I wonder where she picked up that sentence construction and vocabulary. Ah, I do love that story.

My point: I’ve been trying to be a good girl. I try not to curse… often, I wash my hands frequently, and I try to eat well and get plenty of sleep.

I haven’t always been a good eater. I was on an elimination diet – no gluten, dairy, soy, sugar, egg or nuts – when I was diagnosed with cancer. I had chronic abdominal pain and gi problems and I thought of food as something that made me sick. I ate plain chicken and steamed vegetables. I drank distilled water. That was it. I was all knees and elbows and weighed 30 pounds less than I do now.   

After my cancer diagnosis, a nutritionist pointed out that if I didn’t start eating, and stop losing weight, I wouldn’t be able to get chemo. And then where will you be? Not much later, I saw a naturopath who told me the most important things I could do were eat and sleep.

These two statements revolutionized my approach to health. I had always thought of diet and nutrition as vaguely important, but in my previous healthier days, I ate primarily for pleasure or to fill my stomach. Gradually, I began to think of eating as an opportunity to stay healthy through chemo and to boost my immune system.

Even when I got busy and run-down from treatment, my goals were clear. Meal planning, grocery (and sometimes handbag) shopping, and cooking, activities that used to be conducted on a time available basis, were suddenly worth cancelling plans to accomplish.

Let’s just stop there and think about this: cancelling plans so you can go to the grocery store.

Is there anything more important than your health? Eating and sleeping, these are the skills I want my little mimic to learn.

Now tell me about you. Do you make eating and sleeping priorities? Have I told you how much I love it when you leave me comments? Have I mentioned how cute you look today?

Suspense (and BPA-free Canned Tomatoes!)

I know you’re all dying for another weekly installment in the stuff that grows on docks series. I did a lot of crawling around on slippery wood to get these pictures. People thought I was crazy, but I think I got a few good ones. You’re all in for a real treat.

Do you see how the moss follows the wood grain on that top plank?

In other news, there’s an interesting conversation about how to avoid BPA in canned foods going on here in the comments section. Rachel provided a source for BPA-free tomatoes. Thank you Rachel! Of course, they’re not organic. Sigh.

I made this for dinner on Monday. It was really good. I made enough for two dinners but Josie and I ate all the mushrooms the first night. I guess I should make more mushrooms. Maybe I could find some growing on docks and harvest them.

Oh, and look here, I’m famous. Me, Wednesday night, just after finishing my photography expedition.

48% Fatter

Perhaps you're wondering where that spare tire came from.

One of the things that bloggers are supposed to be good at is taking the news, quickly distilling it, providing an opinion and sending it back out into the world. The key word here: quickly. I’m just catching on to that whole idea. I tend to read something, mull it over, check my email, read about it again, maybe eventually write something, take some pictures, send it to someone to proofread, eat some dinner, then maybe, eons later, post it.

The news on high-fructose corn syrup (HFCS) has been one of these issues. There’s lots of mouth-breathing going on over here (and not just because I’m thinking hard, but because Josie is potty-training and you know what that means: poop. Lots of uncontained poop.)

All this to say: oops, sorry for the delay but here’s the news in case you haven’t heard.

A Princeton Research team discovered that rats with access to HFCS and rat chow gained 48% more weight (mostly in the abdomen) than rats with access to cane sugar and rat chow. Did you hear that people? 48%. I did all that thinking and mulling and mouth breathing for nothing because I just don’t really have anything to add. 48% kinda speaks for itself, no?

One more thing, along with the weight gain came an increase in circulating triglycerides, and an increase in risks of developing, high blood pressure, coronary artery disease, diabetes and (wait for it wait for it) cancer. Doesn’t it always come back to cancer?

Plaque-Loving Raisin-Eaters

Spinning Out of Control

Whenever Josie and I arrive somewhere by car, Josie asks for ‘one big and one widdle’ raisin to take outside. As soon as I put the car into park, I start digging through the tub of raisins I keep in the console looking for the extremes. When we get down to the bottom of a carton, and I have a bunch of picked-through medium-sized raisins, it can get tricky, but I’m not above flattening/stretching some and squishing others.

When we arrive at the dentist’s office for Josie’s first teeth cleaning, we complete our ritual before going inside. The hygienist meets us in the waiting area and reads a picture book about their office and the cleaning and tells her everything they are going to do. They have little games to play with the water thing and the suction. Truly gifted people. It’s all going so well. We’re having such a lovely time.

Then the hygienist asks what Josie eats for snack. I mention raisins. Raisins? The hygienist puts her hand to her chest and practically gasps (she may, in fact, have gasped) and begins a rant about the sugar and the sticky getting lodged in the crevasses of Josie’s teeth. For god sake woman, stop with the raisins.

I’m thinking: raisins are good for her, raisins are good for her, raisins are good for her… I manage to say something benign and non-committal like: I see your point. But this is not enough, she wants a commitment.

Have I mentioned that I have good teeth? They may not be pretty but they work real well. I don’t have any cavities. One dentist told me I had really effective plaque-reducing saliva, and I’ve grown a little cocky. I have a hard time getting worked up over tooth decay. But Josie doesn’t have my teeth or my super-duper saliva.

Then the dentist comes out and continues the sermon on the perils of dried fruit. When she’s done she looks to me for a commitment, for a confirmation that I got the message. A very rational voice in my head is saying: just nod and smile, nod and smile. Then: don’t do it. Then: for god sake, woman, keep your mouth shut. But I can’t. I say: Raisins are a good source of iron and fiber and she tends toward constipation. 

Oh god, more about the sticky –the raisin-damning continues. She goes into her office and comes back with a picture of a tooth crevasse and toothbrush bristles skimming over the top to demonstrate the brush cannot get down in there. You see lady? Can’t you see the bristles don’t get down there.   

I’m stubborn and continue to defend the raisin. I understand that they’re not good from a dental-hygiene standpoint but I’m trying to take the whole body, her whole system into account and the raisin really does have a lot to offer as far as transportable snack foods go. They come in cute little boxes or tubs to suit your needs. They can be easily handed into the back seat while driving. They come in a variety of shapes and sizes. Some big. Some widdle.

Next thing I know she’s talking about raisins and gummy-bears as if they’re the same thing. Fine. Fine! I’ll buy her some goddamn sunflower seeds, but I won’t like it and neither will she.

Then it comes time for fluoride. The dentist tells me that Josie’s teeth have not calcified properly. They’re sticky (I wonder how many times a day she uses this word) and already starting to decay. Josie really needs fluoride. I wasn’t prepared for this discussion. You’d think I would be, I’m at a dentist after all, but she’s only two and I didn’t think they gave it to kids this young. But, of course, this raisin-hater dentist wants to apply fluoride to Josie’s teeth.

By then I’m broken-down. I’m beaten. I remember reading that babies and toddlers should use toothpaste without fluoride until they can spit it out. I mumble a question about the systemic effects of giving a young child fluoride. They apply it directly to her teeth, but will the amount she incidentally swallows be harmful to her system? The dentist tilts her head and gives me a blank stare. Eventually she responds that too much fluoride can leave brown spots on teeth. Once again, only about the teeth. (I must say that she is a damn good dentist. Perhaps she should be called a tooth-advocate.) At this point I give up and Josie has the fluoride.

When I get home I look it up, and imagine my surprise, when I don’t find too much hysteria about applying fluoride to teeth. There’s some concern with formula-fed babies getting too much fluoride for their little bodies in tap water (oops, too late now). And there is some concern about over-fluoridated water, but really not much talk of fluoride applied directly to the teeth.

Maybe that dentist was right. I guess now I’ll have to go buy a mixture of roasted pumpkin (big) and sunflower (widdle) seeds to keep in my car. But I still reserve the right to serve her dried fruit whenever the hell I feel like it, damit.

You’ve Been Patented

Increasingly Cloudy

Monday morning, while sorting through email from my neighborhood listserv (parents’ desperately seeking: pine cones, carpool partners and reliable sheet rockers) I heard this story on NPR. The ACLU won a lawsuit against the US Patent office, overturning the patents on BRCA 1 and 2, the breast cancer genes.

Wha-haa?

BRCA 1 and 2 are the genes associated with hereditary forms of breast and ovarian cancer. They’re tumor-suppressors and if a person has a mutation, if these genes are not working properly, that person has a greater chance of developing breast or ovarian cancer.

I was tested for these gene mutations shortly after I was diagnosed. Most of the young women I met during treatment also had the test done, not because we wanted to know about our risks, (duh, too late) but because we wanted to find out if our sisters, mothers, and daughters were at greater risk. My test was negative.

Patent holders, like Myriad Genetics who owned the patent on BRCA 1 and 2, held exclusive rights to these genes. They owned the usage and the chemical composition. Anyone who used the gene without permission for testing, studying, commercial or non commercial purposes was committing patent infringement.

That meant, first, that only one organization had the right to study this gene and how its mutation may contribute to tumor growth. Secondly, if you could manage to take the BRCA 1 and 2 genes out of your body, you would be committing patent infringement.

Seriously, are you screwing with me right now? Is this an April fool’s joke? Someone owned my genes (that’s MINE, give it back, I don’t like to share).

The ACLU sued the US Patent office claiming that genes are “products of nature,” something that can be discovered but not patented. They won the case which will invalidate Myriad Genetics patents and call about 4,000 other gene patents into question.

This is great news. The patents needed to go. But I‘m horrified they ever existed.

When Josie is really focused on something, she sticks her belly out and breathes, loudly, through her mouth, usually while turning something over in her hands. That’s how I’ve felt all week since I heard this news. There’s a lot of mouth breathing going on over here right now.

One thought that will not go away is this: now that the patents and financial incentives are gone who will fund gene research?

Pockets of Cheese

I bet you’d be super-surprised to hear that I’m a list maker. There are post-its all over the place here covered with chicken scratches about raisins and plant sales and the broken Dustbuster (Maybe I should make that D*stbuster so the search engines don’t find it.) I make notes about blog posts and new stories and dried fruit. Then I transfer these little notes to the bigger corresponding lists – grocery, blog, household.

The other day I found a note that said ‘pockets.’ I have no idea what I meant.  Did I mean pockets or maybe packets or pictures or printers or pintos and windows and leantos and tacos or maybe a pingback or a wingback and cheese, of course, I must have meant cheese. Doesn’t it always come back to cheese? I was supposed to fill my pockets with cheese.

Just like Paul believes that rubber chickens are inherently funny, I think anything that has to do with a block of cheese is funny. Try working a block of cheese into a story; it makes it funnier, doesn’t it? So when I saw this SNL skit about the closet organizer, I’m sure you can imagine my delight.

Anyway, my point is this: I have a hard time remembering things. Also: blocks of cheese are funny.

But you see I have a good excuse. Chemo brain. For reals.

The American Cancer Society classifies chemo brain as including memory lapses, trouble concentrating/focusing. Trouble remembering names and details, trouble multi-tasking, and trouble finishing a sentence. Brains of cancer patients have been monitored and studies found that certain parts of the brain that deal with memory, planning, putting thoughts to action, monitoring thought processes and behavior and inhibition (pretty much everything) show up as smaller after chemo. These changes are still seen on scans five to ten years after treatment.

They recommend making lists and keeping a wall calendar to help keep your memory strong but those things don’t always help. Sometimes I completely lose a word or thought. One of my friends described it as going to the file in your brain that holds that word, opening it and finding it empty. Saucer! That little dish that holds a cup is indeed a saucer.

My memory has not been the same since chemo, but now I have a hard time determining if my lapses are the result of chemo brain, sleep deprivation, or mommy brain. It’s impossible to untangle them. As a friend says, sleep deprivation is key to the mommy experience. Does the well-rested parent exist?

Web MD claims that pregnancy brain and mommy brain subside after the first few years. Is that because children usually start sleeping longer? Is it because pregnancy hormones have leveled out by then? Do adoptive mommies get mommy brain? Clearly, I have a lot of questions and a lot to say on this topic so I’m going to continue to explore these ideas, if I can remember them, in a memory mini-series. I recommend you read it while gnawing on a block of cheese.

Hey Everyone, Let’s Panic!

By now you must all know about BPA, right? If not (are you trapped under something heavy?), Bisphenol A is a chemical that, among other things, makes hard plastic bottles shatterproof and is found in the lining of most cans and food packaging.

On Monday, Washington State voted to ban BPA in products for children under the age of 3. Similar restrictions are in place in Chicago, Minnesota, Connecticut and Suffolk County in New York. In Congress, a bill has been filed that would block BPA from all food and drink packaging. Those wise Canadians banned BPA in baby bottles in 2008.

90% of us have this stuff in our bodies and recent studies have found a presence in the majority of newborn babies. In the last 50 years, dozens of studies have linked BPA to health problems, including abnormal growths and tumors in animals. Some studies say BPA alters healthy breast cells, turning them into abnormal cancer cells. Other studies say BPA contributes to tumor growth by mimicking estrogen in the body.

My cancer was hormone positive. That means there were teeny-tiny receptor sites on the outside of my cancer cells that estrogen would bind to. The abundance of estrogen (naturally occurring and from BPA and other toxins) in my system may have accelerated my tumor’s growth.

This is how my war, not just against cancer, but against estrogen began. Chemo drugs shut down my ovaries. After treatment, I started receiving injections to stay post-menopausal but the drug didn’t always work as planned, and I popped in and out of medically-induced menopause multiple times.

Let me take a moment to acknowledge how wrong it is for a person to go from post-menopausal to pre-menopausal. It’s like changing the rotation of the earth and moving from winter back to fall. You can imagine the mood swings. Picture me with my hands clutching my mother’s collar screaming at her to clean my fridge. Right this minute. I sounded like my two year old (I guess some relationships never change). Just do it LADY. 

I also started avoiding BPA by drinking from glass and stainless steel containers. If I hadn’t had all that fake estrogen in my system, maybe I wouldn’t have gotten cancer at 31 or, if I had, maybe it wouldn’t have been hormone positive.  

Let me be clear: I’m not saying I believe BPA definitively caused my cancer. I don’t believe any one thing causes cancer. I am saying there is a good chance BPA played a part in its development.   

But enough about me, back to the topic at hand. Perhaps you’re asking yourself why Washington state is banning BPA, isn’t this the FDA’s job? In past years the FDA has maintained that BPA is completely safe based largely on the findings of two industry-funded studies. In January the FDA reversed their position and they have expressed concern about the effects of BPA.

Then this from the Washington Post: 

FDA officials also said they were hamstrung from dealing quickly with BPA by an outdated regulatory framework.

Awesome. And then this:

One administration official privy to the talks said the FDA is in a quandary. “They have new evidence that makes them worried, but they don’t have enough proof to justify pulling the stuff, so what do you do?” said the official, who spoke on the condition of anonymity. “You want to warn people, but you don’t want to create panic.”

Sure, let them eat poison but, for god sake, don’t freak anybody out.

Thems Must Be Some REALLY Good Peppers

Or, as my mother would say, what, are they filled with diamonds?

Yoo-hoo, criminals, come-out, come-out, wherever you are!

Last week, I got a little note in my mailbox from a neighbor. Actually it was an email chain printout in which a handful of people on our block recounted stories of prowlers and break-ins. There was one legit break-in (and, from the sounds of it, the victims knew the perpetrator), but most the stories were of kids lurking in the bushes with crowbars. They wait until we leave then pry our doors open and rifle through our freezer and medicine cabinet looking for drugs or cash or drugs for cash. (Hey kid, you really want my hormone-blocking cancer drugs? Help yourself. Welcome to the world of hot flashes and night sweats. Enjoy your stay.)

You’d think this news would scare me. I mean, I stay up at night thinking about flame retardants and dry cleaning chemicals (stay tuned). And sure it creeps me out, but nothing incites more dread and terror than…. Wait for it, wait for it… The urban Trader Joe’s parking lot. Gasp!

Some of you who are lucky enough to have a nice big suburban TJ’s may not know what I’m talking about. Trust me. You’ve never encountered such a tightly packed, poorly planned, small, exhaust filled, impossible-to-get-through-even-if-you’re-done-and-just-want-to-go-home, parking lot. And once you find a spot, don’t even think of opening your door to get your kid out. There. Is. No. Room.   

I really resisted the whole Trader Joe’s movement. Partly because of the lots but also because I didn’t want to add another grocery store to my list and there isn’t really a store close to my house. But, you know, I have a few friends who are die-hard TJ’s fans so I decided to do a little price comparison. Here’s what I found:

Product W. Foods PCC TJ’s QFC**
½ gallon organic whole milk 3.99 3.89 2.99 3.99
Pacific organic almond milk 2.59 2.59 1.69 2.99
Organic grass-fed ground beef 6.99 5.99 5.99 5.49***
Organic extra virgin olive oil (per oz) .65 .60 .38 .78
Organic Fuji apples (per lb) 1.99 1.99 2.07* 2.49
Organic red peppers (per lb) 3.99 3.99 3.52* 8.00*

 

*This produce was priced per piece instead of per pound. So I made some estimates and created some complex equations to come up with these numbers. I like to think Mrs. Runyan would be proud, but probably not.

**QFC overcharges you retail then makes you give them all your personal information in exchange for one of their bullshit loyalty cards that gives you “discounts” at the register. The rates listed here are what their price tags say and do not include their “discounts.”

***QFC did not have any organic grass-fed ground beef. The closest I could find was “natural.”

Seriously? $8.00 per pound for red peppers? Before this, I would have guessed that QFC would be the cheapest of the stores. Perhaps they don’t buy enough organic or natural products to get volume discounts.

As you can see, in most cases, TJ’s is WAY cheaper. I mean way. Look at almond milk. (For those of you dairy-free-ers, I really think that almond is the best of the alternative milks. I actually feel better when I drink it than when I don’t.) Anyway, the brand, size, everything is the same. How can TJ’s sell it for 40% less?

My experience with Trader Joe’s produce is inconsistent at best. I’ve heard that sometimes they have great watermelons and mangoes, but frequently their fruits and veggies lack flavor and substance. Limes without juice. Soft apples. Tasteless peaches.  

So, now I do fight with TJ’s parking lot on occasion. I shop there like I would Costco. I buy a gallon of milk, 10 cartons of almond milk (it lasts forever), 7 boxes of Paul’s favorite cereal, etc. I load up on prepared food but save my produce purchases for the co-op.

And in the last post about grocery stores  some of you brought up farmers markets. On the Neighborhood Farmer’s Market Alliance site they have a nice little article about produce price comparison studies conducted from 2003-2008. They all find that farmer’s market produce is cheaper than their grocery store competitors. Here’s one interesting example:

Spring 2008: study by Stacy Jones’ SU statistics students found that the average cost per pound of all organic produce at QFC was $2.98, at Whole Foods is was $2.53, and at the Broadway Farmers Market is was $2.36.  A few items were more expensive at the Farmers Market, but most items were more expensive at the grocery stores, so the total average was less at the Farmers Market – which means that a shopper’s grocery bill would average lowest at the Farmers Market. 

Now that we know how much cheaper TJ’s is, perhaps we should encourage them to charge us more and use the extra revenue to make their parking garage slightly less horrific. But then, what would be the point? If it’s not cheap, it’s just another grocery store.

Perhaps the miserable parking lot is the price, or the penance, we pay for the luxury of inexpensive ground beef. Maybe that’s why they give out free samples, to soften the blow. Oh Honey, they say when you burst through the front door waving your crow bar like a sword, after using it to pry open your door and scare away the criminals lurking in dark corners. Here, they say, have a chocolate covered strawberry on a stick and a tiny cup of coffee. Then they press a bottle of olive oil into your hand. Now here, they say, take this. Take home some of our cheap packaged goods. There, now the world doesn’t seem like such a scary place, does it? Don’t you feel better already?

Just Kidding

Elizabeth posted an interesting comment/question on the Mattress Quest II post.  What should we make of The Lancet’s announcement they are retracting the study they published in 1998 linking the Measles Mumps Rubella (MMR) vaccine to autism?

When I heard the news, all I could think was: Giiilllly! (This is probably only funny to Paul because he may, in fact, be the only person who follows this blog and watches Saturday Night Live. For the rest of you, click on the link above to watch a Gilly skit. Then watch it again because it gets funnier.)

Apparently the General Medical Council, which oversees doctors in the UK, found the Wakefield study did not meet their ethical standards. They said “there was a biased selection of patients” and “conduct in this regard was dishonest and irresponsible.”

Gilly, did you throw a milk carton at the black board?

First, let me start by confirming that indeed, I am not a doctor and I have very little experience with or knowledge of Autism. But it is clear, even to me, that the Wakefield study has been thoroughly de-bunked. While I can still find publications that are willing to make the case that vaccines are linked to Autism, I cannot find a publication willing to defend the Wakefield study itself. As of today, there are no proven studies linking the MMR vaccine and Autism.

Does that mean that the vaccine, and for that matter all vaccines, are completely safe? There is a small voice in my head that says: just because there is no evidence proving a vaccine does cause harm does not mean that it doesn’t. Just because something has not been proven does not mean that it does not exist. This is one of my pet-peeves with the medical community. Doctors act as if the information they have today is everything. How long ago was it that we thought the world was flat? That leeches were used as a viable form of medical treatment? That Thalidomide was given to pregnant mothers? This is my general philosophy regarding medicine: there is SO much about the human body and how it works that we do not know and we do not understand. This governs all my decisions. I do my best to minimize exposure, to minimize risk.

Gilly, did you stab three pencils in Cindy’s body?

However, I am not only skeptical of the medical community, I am also quite grateful for it. Western medicine did save my life. Oh yeah. There’s that. Let’s not forget.

And, vaccines are very important. They save lives. Measles killed 160,000 in the developing world last year.

Gilly, did you light Bobby’s tie on fire?

Josie got way more shots starting at a younger age than I did. It’s a scary thought, injecting those tiny bodies with all those foreign substances at once. What can her little liver handle? How can her little immune system make sense of what we’ve given her?   

Shit, I don’t know… The solution is different for every person/kid/family and depends on the individual risk factors and family history. The only recommendation I can make is to buy The Vaccine Book by Dr. Sears. It lists the pros and cons of every vaccine. It provides a recommended delayed schedule. These are not long delays, these are delays of a few weeks or months that allow a little body to process some of what it has been given before it is given another. It provides a rational foundation to make educated decisions.

I know there are some of you out there who have more knowledge of vaccines and experience with Autism. What do you make of this?

Gilly, did you tell millions of people that MMR causes Autism?

Uh-huh. Sorry.

Mattress Quest Part II – New Beds for Everyone!

Have I mentioned that Paul whistles in his sleep? It’s usually a random little tune pushed through his teeth. It’s not an incidental whistle, the result of his mouth-breathing ways, but it’s not a lip-pucker whistle either. If I could put it to a tune it would sound something like twee-te-twee-te-twee. Twee-te-twee-te-twee.

 After my little visit at Soaring Heart , I continue on to Bedrooms & More. I walk in and tell the nice young man with his wire rimmed glasses and bottle of vitamin water what I’m looking for. He shows me three beds.

The first is the super-duper-organic bed from Organic Mattress Inc (I wonder how they came up with the name). It’s made of latex, organic wool and organic cotton. Even the thread is organic. He says they control the ozone in the manufacturing facility. I have no idea what this means. Then he says that when entering the plant, everyone must pass through a series of doors designed to control the interior atmosphere. None of the employees smoke or wear perfume (ever). They keep the wool and cotton material on a machine so it is constantly circulating (I’m picturing a giant taffy machine) because if you leave cotton or wool sitting on a shelf it can grow traces of mold.

Now, I have quite a collection of neuroses but germophobia does not happen to be one of them. I’m looking for something natural and non-toxic, but I don’t think I need my own ozone. That’s lucky for me because their least expensive twin is $1499. 

Paul isn’t just a whistler. He’s a snorer. So go ahead and picture this. Paul, sleeping on his back; he’s pulled the sheets up all along the bottom of the bed so his feet can hang over. He alternates a loud snore on the inhale and a few little notes of a whistled tune on the exhale. A deliberately whistled tune. Snore: whistle. Snore, tweedly-twee-te-twee. Snore, tweedly-twee-te-twee.

Then my new friend at Bedrooms & More shows me a chemical-free, inner-spring, Therapedic-brand twin that sells for $499. Nice enough, but because it is inner-spring it will age and sag.

It’s a little difficult to believe all this snoring/whistling business. I know that. So I’ve replaced the batteries in my voice recorder and stashed it in my nightstand drawer. Now I just need to memorize the button pushing sequence so I can get it to record in the dark. I feel like I’m stalking a nocturnal wild animal. As soon as I have something I’ll post it for you. I promise. (I know, you can hardly wait!)

The winner of the mattress showdown is the last option: the Natura Sunshine 6” latex twin. That’s 6” of all-natural, non-off-gassing latex, guaranteed not to hold an impression for 20 years, encased in a chemical-free cotton and wool package that serves as a natural flame retardant.

For $670 Josie is going to have this bed for more than 20 years. She’s going to have it forever. We’re going to attach it to her ankle. Instead of a ball and chain, she’ll have a mattress and chain. We’ll consider it part of her dowry. Instead of a goat or a cow and a trunk full of clothes, we’ll send her off with an old golden retriever, and an ancient mattress that still doesn’t hold an impression.  

Once the mattress decision was made, we purchased an inexpensive poly blend mattress pad without any plastic, petroleum or chemical additions. We topped it with this wool and cotton, waterproof and machine washable puddle pad. Then inexpensive cotton sheets and blankets because from what I understand none of the bedding is treated with flame retardants and even if pesticides are used on the cotton, very little of it transfers through to the cotton fluff.

Pillows? Don’t even get me started on pillows… After many hours (okay, minutes) of reading pillow labels I finally found a few that were not treated with iso-guard, sani-clean, rest-block or any other bullshit chemical created solely for the purposes of charging me more. Keep your damn chemicals to yourself. Oh, and another thing, no more dry clean only bedding. I’d rather have cooties than Perc any day. Eventually I bought three cheap machine-washable, poly-filled, chemical-free (as far as I could tell) pillows.

Well, finally, the mystery is solved, the puzzle complete, the big girl bed and accessories acquired.

Of course, I didn’t arrive at the decision to buy the Sunshine after just one visit. It took… a few. And a bit of pondering (obsessing?). Some of that pondering was done at night when I was supposed to be sleeping but instead was listening to my snoring/whistling husband and imagining the flame retardants working their way from my mattress into my blubber. I couldn’t turn my brain off and the day after I bought Josie’s mattress, I went back and bought one for Paul and me. New beds for everyone! Another round of new beds over here please bartender! Yes, that’s right, more beds for the crazy lady.

We bought an Englander 5003 all natural firm latex mattress. She’s a real beaut.

Tweedly-twee-te-twee.