Let's Just Hope . . . .
Sunday, November 30, 2008

. . . . . that the Cat League doesn't find out about this. He'll be drummed out for sure.

Posted byPortlyDyke at 11:03 PM 4 comments  

Portly of Omaha's Wild Kingdom
Saturday, November 29, 2008

I meant to blog this earlier, but it got away from me.

In order to get the full-body experience of this post, I suggest that you click here

A couple of months ago, we were sitting in the kitchen nook with a dear friend, chatting.

A bit of back-story: There is this cat, you see.




He's not "our" cat.

Our cat is a different cat.

She looks like this:Although I could understand how you might be confused, when you see something like this:
. . . . . . . And yes, that is a gigantic heap of catnip he's lying in -- why do you ask?

ANYway -- Mr. Black Kitty is not, as I said, "our" cat, but apparently, he has decided that we are "his" people. He ostensibly belongs to our neighbors, but he doesn't seem to spend any time there. They are rarely home, and there are two rather yappy dachshunds living there that he does not seem to enjoy, so he spends the bulk of his days at our house.

Now, it's been a while since we had a younger cat around. Our remaining kitteh is 15, with bad hips, and her version of "playing" is lazily swatting at a peacock feather -- IF she feels like it.

So I had forgotten about younger cats, I think.

Back to the kitchen nook table.

So, I'm looking over my friend's shoulder out the kitchen window when I see the hardy fuschia bush suddenly thrash about as if a hurricane-force wind has kicked up (it was a still day). The bush careens around for a about twenty seconds, and then we hear a thump on the ground below, as if something has fallen.

"What the hell was that?!" popped out of my mouth, and we went out to see what had happened.

Where we saw this, at the bottom of the bush:

My Beloved said, "I'll be he was trying to get a hummingbird in the fuschia."

We all went inside.

And looked out the kitchen window, where we saw, at the very, very tippy top of the bush -- this:
Which, of course, surprised us, so I went outside with and took a picture of this:
To give you a little scale:
Mr. Black Kitty is a voracious hunter, and he had been bagging more than his share of native songbirds recently (despite bell and collar), so my Beloved had a talk with him and told him that she was fine with him hunting rodents, but to please leave the birds alone (which he has, for the most part).

His predator fetish is so pervasive that I considered calling him either Tab Hunter or the Black Death, but my Beloved gently reminded me that I might not actually want to energize that by reinforcing his big cat fantasies every time I called his name. Smart, she.

At any rate, there was this little rodent person (we had already found parts of his/her compatriots scattered about the lawn in recent days), perched high atop the fuschia, panting frantically. I tried to lure Black Kitty into the house so that said rodent person might make its Great Escape, but BK was having none of it. He hung around under or near the bush for over an hour, and finally, rodent person, no doubt exhausted by its ordeal, actually fell asleep at the tippy top of the bush.

Giving me the opportunity to do my Marlin Perkins thing:



I seriously considered a rescue attempt, but honestly, I thought it would just freak the poor rodent person out further, so I went inside and let nature take its course.

Which it did. Later, rodent person moved further down the bush, while Black Kitty waited patiently, and a few hours later I found rodent person's remains (or one of rodent person's compatriot's remains) nearby in the yard.

I will say that Black Kitty does actually eat his kills, which is more than I can say for a few of my cats, and I'm assuming by the number of rodent carcasses (usually partial) that I've found in the yard that they probably needed some population control. I'm still not exactly sure what kind of a rodent it is. At first, I suspected that it was a baby Norwegian rat, but now I'm not so certain.

Thought I'd share the adventure.

Posted byPortlyDyke at 9:46 PM 4 comments  

Wotthehell
Friday, November 28, 2008

OK -- so, I'm going to do something I've never even considered doing on my blog, but I figure -- you never know.

I've had a Ernst Roth violin (it's really nice) on craigslist for a couple of months with no luck in selling it. The truth is, we need the money right now, and the fiddle has been languishing, pretty much unplayed, at our house for a while. We've been concentrating on moving stuff along here at Chez Portly -- simplifying, getting rid of stuff that we don't use, preparing ourselves for whatever is next in our lives.

So, if you, or anyone you know, is interested in a truly killer deal on a very nice instrument, you can check it out at this link:

http://seattle.craigslist.org/see/msg/933749368.html

It's a good instrument -- German made, 1965.

Feels kind of weird to do this here, but as I said: wotthehell -- it couldn't hurt, and the rent is due on Monday (and yeah, it's that kind of "we need the money right now").

Contact me via the email in the profile, or from the craigslist ad. Thanks for passing it along if you know someone who might be interested.

Posted byPortlyDyke at 5:46 PM 1 comments  

Happy Turkey -- with Mormon Sauce
Thursday, November 27, 2008

So, last night, after I had been dialoguing with some internet being about whether the LDS had overstepped itself as a non-profit during the Prop 8 campaign, I was unwinding by surfing the tubes, and I heard this little "tap-tap-tap".

I pulled my earphones off one ear for a moment and cocked my head to listen. Nothing.

I called up to my Beloved: "Was that you?"

"What?"

"That tapping -- was that you?"

Then I hear a muffled voice as I get up to listen again -- a faraway voice that is not unusual to hear in my house when a friend has arrived at the back door without calling first: "Helloooo?"

I stopped in the hall, trying to figure out whether it's at the front door or the back.

Then I hear it again -- tap, tap, tap.

Front door. Why don't they use my (rather lovely, if I may say so myself) doorbell?

I advance toward the door a bit cautiously. None of our friends come to the front door.

It is the gateway for the landlord, Jehovah's witnesses, and people who are arriving as clients, students, or attendees to our events.

I wasn't sure why I felt cautious -- I live in the town of 911 calls involving annoying relatives and wandering goats -- but cautious, I felt.

"Who's there?" I call out as I move toward the door hesitantly.

"Helloooo?"

I switched on the porch light and opened the door a crack.

They were two. They were tall. There were matching trench-coats, white shirts, black ties, and name-tags.

It was the FUCKING MORMONS!!!!!!!! (repetitive screeching noise from the shower scene in Psycho)

I don't know if I rolled my eyes. I do know that I lacked the will to even fuck with them. After all, it's not their fault that they were born into a family that thinks it's a really swell idea to farm their young men out to do door-to-door harassment on the night before Thanksgiving.

Me: "Hello."

Taller of Them: "Hi -- "

Me: "I really don't have time to talk with you right now." Lie. (Goddammit! My own Mormon-allergy has led me to violate one of my own core principles -- Authenticity! -- Curse you, Josepth Smith!)

Taller of Them: "When would be a good time for us to come back?"

Me: "Well, actually, I'm a minister myself, so I'm -- all set with my spiritual condition."

Taller of Them: (brightening...... kind of..... amidst the befuddlement) "Oh really! Where do you preach?"

Me: "Right here."

Taller of Them: "Really! People just come here?"

Me: "That's right."

Taller of Them: "Oh. Well . . . . could we help you in any way?"

Me: "Uhm -- No. Thanks anyway."

I close the door.

Beloved has now come down and is in the kitchen, prepping some stuff for tomorrow's meal.

"Who was that?"

"The fucking Mormons."

"Really? The night before Thanksgiving? That's weird. Well, I guess they figure there'll be a lot of people home. Did you talk to them?"

"Kind of. I told them I didn't have time to talk to them."

"Which isn't technically true."

"Yeah, I know. Well, no, really -- I don't have time to talk to them -- because I don't want to talk to them, and I don't want to make time to talk to them, and . . . . . yeah, I lied."

I recounted the interaction in brief, pretty much as above.

Then I started thinking about how I had missed this great opportunity to enlighten these fresh-faced boys (and yes, they were boys) on the impact that their precious church was having on queers like me. But then I thought that I probably wouldn't have been very coherent, and that I probably would have come off pretty venomous, after my afternoon conversation with the bone-headed internet being, and then I thought that it was really stupid to expect these hypnotized boys to take any kind of responsibility for the world-wide svengali that has sent them out on these "missions" so that they weren't home competing for wives, and then I thought that what if one of them were a closeted or questioning gay and I might be the only out queer he might ever meet and that might save his sanity and/or his life, and then I thought that it was truly mean to send these poor boys out to make religious cold-calls on woo-woo lesbians, and then I just thought -- "Oh fuck it, I'm going back to my computer".

I've never understood Mormons or Jehovah's Witnesses (who strangely, also never use the doorbell) -- the thought of tracking down a complete stranger to see whether they might want to hear about my spiritual beliefs sends the creeping willies up my spine in the first place, and in the second place, the concept of living in a world where every single person who doesn't believe as I believe is doomed to the worst fate imaginable is something I simply can't wrap my brain around. What a sad, sad world-view.

Anyway, despite my visitation from the Moroni twins, and my almost certain damnation in their dimensional reality, I managed to have a fine Thanksgiving. For the first time in many years, it was just me, my Beloved, the cats, and a rather sumptuous turkey breast. We watched two disappointing DVDs, but the cuddling on the couch compensated for the video-blahness.

I am truly thankful, today, for many things. I'm healthy, happy, well-loved, and in love. My mom's medical report was all clear. I have fine friends, and I live in paradise.

Posted byPortlyDyke at 10:03 PM 6 comments  

It's Time
Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Recently, I received an email from someone to whom I had offered help. She told me when I offered this help, that she had a hard time accepting help from others. I told her that I understood, and that it was fine -- she could know that the offer was open and take me up on it if and when she was ready.

A few days later, I got an email from her -- the subject line simply said: "It's time", and the body of the email explained that she wanted to take me up on my offer.

The simplicity of the subject line struck me.

I've always been fascinated by that internal process whereby we might put something off and put something off, knowing that at some point, we must move forward, and then, one day, for some reason that we can't explain -- It's time.

And then we do it. We move forward after hours, days, weeks, months, or even years of resistance.

I had this today.

I've been thinking lately that I wanted to return to a discipline/practice of daily blogging again. It's been percolating in the cauldron of my mind, and tingling around the edge of my consciousness, but every day, I just seemed to push it into some dusty corner in my brain.

But now, it's time.

You can read more about the spiritual aspects of this at my other blog, if you're interested, or you can just receive my pledge here -- I'm going to get back to daily blogging. It may suck some days -- I'm cool with that -- but I'm pledging to blog here every day for the next year (I'll give myself a break, of course, in the case of power outages or true emergencies).

It's time.

Posted byPortlyDyke at 9:40 PM 4 comments  

Because I'm Busy Working on a Real Post
Sunday, November 23, 2008

I try to never say: "Some people have too much time on their hands", because usually, they tend to do some incredible things with it.

Posted byPortlyDyke at 11:29 PM 3 comments  

Be A Patriot - Dump Money in a Hole!
Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Posted byPortlyDyke at 10:45 PM 3 comments  

Labels: Funny Fluff

You Smell So Good It's Killing Me
Sunday, November 16, 2008

I live with someone who has MCS -- Multiple Chemical Sensitivities (also referred to as "Chemically Injured" or "Environmental Injury").

Strap in once more, because this may be a long post. I'm going to attempt to communicate some facts that may be of interest to you -- but first, I'm going to tell you why I'm writing this, and what it means to live with MCS. I'm going to tell you my story, but I'm also going to tell you what my story may mean for you.

My Beloved has always been sensitive to certain chemicals -- but in the past three years, that sensitivity increased.

Three years ago, exposure to certain chemicals would mean she experienced an accelerated heartbeat, skin flush, mental confusion, and an adrenal response that was like "fight or flight/I've-got-to-get-out-of-here!"

Then, as her sensitivity increased, it would mean having that suite of symptoms, followed by symptoms that were like a hangover (fatigue, body aches, general malaise, etc.) for a few hours or a day.

Then it became a few days.

Then, the effects of exposure would mean several days of headache, extreme fatigue, digestive complaints, and all-round OMG I FEEL CRAPPY.

Her exposure to things like paint fumes, pesticides, cleaning chemicals, and other known toxins was fairly easy to handle -- we were already pretty "green" in terms of our household products, because that fit with our general values of sustainability and environmental awareness -- but there is a particularly difficult scenario that has been much more challenging to control -- exposure to synthetic fragrances.

As we changed our lifestyle to rid our home of the stuff that makes her sick (which meant looking carefully at shampoo, soaps, lotions, laundry and cleaning products, toilet paper, and yes, even the books we purchased used on Amazon -- some sellers will package a book that's been in a smoker's home with a scented dryer sheet to mask the smell of smoke), I learned a lot -- about chemicals, and about myself.

I'm not as sensitive to chemicals as is my Beloved. I tend to have that sort of physical unit that processes toxins fairly quickly, and even if I don't like a particular fragrance or smell, it doesn't usually give me any physical symptoms. Or so I thought.

As our home got de-toxed, and our air got clearer, I found that I actually did get physical reactions to certain chemicals. They weren't as severe as hers, but they were there -- I just hadn't noticed them because they were subtle and so omnipresent.

Now, if I sit in a room with someone who is drenched in perfume for an hour or more, I'll actually notice the results afterwards -- a slight headache, reddened eyes, sinus congestion, and marginal fatigue.

The same exposure for my Beloved would result in much more extreme levels of the same, and for her, they can last from one to three days.

Recently, she's found some things that have helped reduce her symptoms and reactions, but still, when she ventures out into the world, she always carries a small mask in her pocket, just in case.

When the doorbell rings, I'm the one who answers, because even our UPS guys and gals seem to be obsessed with making sure I know that they are Teh Sexy with their mad scentz. I usually step out quickly and close the door behind me, so that a chemical that could make my love sick doesn't waft in through the door. And waft it does.

Getting on a airplane for a two-or-three hour flight would be a complete gamble at this point. We haven't traveled by plane for over two years.

We've asked our friends not to visit the house wearing fragranced products. They have tried to comply, but still, if they used fragranced laundry products like dryer sheets or fabric softener in the past (which are not only designed to have a "lasting scent", but often contain waxes that get inside your washer dryer so that the fragrance continues on for months after you stop using them), their clothes can have lingering fragrance that can make her sick.

Depending on how full her "toxin bucket" is on any given day, she may or may not be able to sit across the room from them for a chat, and she rarely gives hugs to them anymore, if there's a whiff of chemical fragrance. She seems to do fine with all-natural essential oils -- no synthetics (but please note: this is not true of all people with MCS).

Her primary response seems to be from synthetic fragrances -- and synthetic fragrances are in stuff you would never imagine. Many people who have MCS have much worse reactions than my Beloved does.

We've posted signs and sent emails to people who attend our circles and classes, asking them not to wear fragrance to our events. Sometimes they forget. We generally allow them to stay, and my Beloved dons her breathing mask. We remind them. Sometimes they forget again. We remind them again.

Sometimes their perfume is so strong that the chairs or cushions that they sit on retain the smell for days. We've taken to covering furniture with washable throws, but sometimes we just have to drag the furniture outside and let the sun and air do its work.

Keep in mind that for someone with severe MCS, contamination of this type might mean that they have to get rid of that piece of furniture entirely.

Friday, we had someone attend our regular group meeting whose perfume was so strong that it gave me a headache, and we had the room airing out (and closed off) for an entire day -- but there's still a lingering scent.

This person has been here before, and has been asked not to come wearing fragrance. When my Beloved approached her to talk about it (these conversations are often a bit awkward), she said that she had remembered about the fragrance-free request, and had given herself a quick wash, but hadn't taken a shower. (In some cases, even showering doesn't do much good, because the person's clothing is permeated with the scent, especially if it's something they wear every day.) We didn't want to send her away, so we chose to have her stay.

However, after the group met, my Beloved and I confabbed on this and we have come to the conclusion that we just can't do that anymore. We're going to maintain better boundaries about this, and do more education, and take care of ourselves.

Here are some non-scientific observations, and then I'll get into some facts:

1) It seems like my Beloved has a "toxin-bucket" -- when she hasn't been exposed to something that triggers her symptoms for a while, she can go to the library and pass someone who is wearing perfume and her reaction will be slight.

Then something will happen like: A person wearing fragrance comes to a class -- she'll do OK -- the next day, the neighbor's dryer vent is blasting Downy all over our yard -- she'll do slightly OK -- the next day, the wind shifts and the paper-mill steam blows over our way -- she'll do less OK -- that afternoon, the sewer pipe backs up and three City guys (all Ax Body Sprayed to the -enth degree) and one plumber (Calvin-Klein-ified) have to be in our house to fix the sewer.

Then, her toxin-bucket gets full, and she has to lay down for a good long while.

At this point, answering the doorbell if I'm not home is a crap-shoot. Going into the yard to get some fresh air (which usually is helpful for her when her symptoms are active) is sometimes impossible, because it could mean a snoot-full of neurotoxins in the form of a breezy, fresh new scent. Being called for jury duty could mean sitting with a breathing mask on for days at a time.

2. The nose is a peculiar beast. Think of how it is when you come home from a long time away, and smell the smell of your own home. Usually, you can't smell this, unless you've been away. You can smell other people's houses the minute you walk in, but once you've been there a while, you don't notice that smell.

We become desensitized to smells over a fairly quick period, so if we wear perfume or scented products over a period of time, we usually can't smell them. I think that this accounts for the times when I pass someone on the street and their perfume just about knocks me over from three feet away. They can't smell their own perfume anymore. So they put on more perfume.

An old friend who was a grade-school science teacher was fond of telling her students: "If you can smell it, it's in your nose."

She would usually tie this saying to something like the smell of dog-poo, just to evoke the "Ewww! Gross!" response from her students, but her point was that the mechanism of smelling was a chemical process whereby chemicals from the object we smelled actually entered the incredibly permeable surfaces of our noses -- that it had to go into us in order to be registered as an odor.

That entry into our body doesn't stop at our noses, though -- it continues into our mouths, and our lungs -- all organs that are fabulously designed to absorb and assimilate chemicals from the outside world.

So, when you're wearing perfume or smelling your Bounced clothing, you're actually ingesting it, too -- and so is everyone else in the room. Fragrance is designed to invade other people's space -- manufacturers actually put chemicals in it to help it disseminate further and faster, and to last longer.

3. We are permeable beings. It's not just what we breath in through our mouths and noses that gets into our bodies -- our skin and eyes are permeable for a reason.

Years ago, when I was sealing a very small, high-ceilinged closet with a shellac-based (alcohol) product, I wore my very expensive respirator the entire time I was working. I had to close the closet door to access all the surfaces, and the high ceiling concentrated the fumes intensely.

I had done what I needed to protect myself -- or so I thought -- but at the end of the day, I could detect the distinct flavor/smell of ketones on my breath -- you're probably familiar with it, even if you don't know the word --it's that particular smell on the breath of someone who has had way to much to drink.

I asked my MD about it, and he pointed out that we very efficiently absorb chemicals through our skin, but most especially through our eyes. Our entire body is "breathing".

So, chemicals that we douse our clothing in (and then wear next to our skins) will get into us, even if we can't smell them.

Now, some facts:

A) Fragrance: You don't know what's in there.

Anytime you see the word "fragrance" on a product, it contains an unknown amount and combination of chemicals that are not required to be individually listed as ingredients.

These combinations of chemicals are considered a "trade secret" for fragrance manufacturers. The FDA has only banned about 10 chemicals from use in perfumes and cosmetics. Legally, any other chemical can be used in a fragrance, and those chemicals do not have to be revealed to the consumer in the ingredient list -- the word "Fragrance" is enough, even though that may be dozens, or hundreds, of chemicals.

The fragrance industry is essentially, self-regulating. (And looking at the current state of the world economy, we all know how well that self-regulation thing works.)

B) Fragrance: What's in there might not be very good for you.

"The fragrance industry does come under the regulation of the FDA, but the regulation is extremely limited. Many of the ingredients used in fragrances have little to no safety testing done on them. Most of the safety testing that has been done has revolved around the dermatological effects of fragrance chemicals. The effects on the respiratory system, the brain, and other organs of the body have not been determined on individual chemicals - much less in the combinations in which they are used." ~ http://www.ourlittleplace.com/fda.html

"95% of chemicals used in fragrances are synthetic compounds derived from petroleum. They include benzene derivatives, aldehydes and many other known toxics and sensitizers - capable of causing cancer, birth defects, central nervous system disorders and allergic reactions." ~ 'Neurotoxins: At Home and the Workplace', Report by the Committee on Science & Technology, U.S. House of Representatives, Sept. 16, 1986. (Report 99-827)

Oh, in that 1986 Report from Congress, Fragrances were listed among the six categories of chemicals that should be given high priority to be tested for neurotoxicity -- along with insecticides, heavy metals, solvents, food additives and certain air pollutants. (Neurotoxins are chemicals that damage or destroy nerve tissues.)

So, you don't really get to know what's in your nose, and they don't have to tell you.

The only way you would be able to find out is to take it to a chemist and have it analyzed -- and honestly -- if what was in there was actually good for you, don't you think the manufacturers would be touting that as a selling point? -- "Between Love and a Stronger Immune System Lies . . . . . Obsession."

C) Fragrance: It's Not Just Your Cologne

Perfume and cologne, scented lotions, and soaps and shampoos that you apply to your body is only one of the problems with synthetic fragrance.

Dryer sheets, fabric softener, and detergents can contain fragrance -- even if they're marked "unscented" or even "fragrance-free" -- because if a fragrance is used as a "masker" (something to mask the smell of another chemical, but not intended to impart a "scent") -- it doesn't even have to be listed using that one word: Fragrance.

You can be, literally, "cleaning" your clothes in a chemical bath that isn't "clean" at all.

"Trouble is, you have no way of knowing it. Manufacturers of detergents, laundry sheets and air fresheners aren't required to list all of their ingredients on their labels -- or anywhere else. Laws protecting people from indoor air pollution from consumer products are limited.

When UW engineering professor Anne Steinemann analyzed of some of these popular items, she found 100 different volatile organic compounds measuring 300 parts per billion or more -- some of which can be cancerous or cause harm to respiratory, reproductive, neurological and other organ systems.

Some of the chemicals are categorized as hazardous or toxic by federal regulatory agencies. But the labels tell a different story, naming only innocuous-sounding "perfume" or "biodegradable" contents. ~http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/local/371779_toxicfragrance23.html

D) Fragrance: Your Favorite Fragrance Has Gone Global

It isn't just going onto, and into, you.

It's going down the drain to the water table, and into the sea, so fish are swimming in it and breathing it, and you get to drink it later, and eat it at Chez Fins.

It's blowing out of your dryer vent, so insects and birds are flying through and breathing it.

It's being dumped into landfills. (The EPA cites discarded or waste consumer cosmetics as one of the leading contributors to PCPPs in the environment.)

So fragrance is a gift that will keep on giving (toxins) for generations to come, and to other species who really don't care whether you smell like a Spring Day (but who might care that they get to live to see another Spring day).

Of course, fragrance isn't the only culprit in MCS (many people are triggered by things like new plastic products that are off-gassing -- carpeting, etc.), and the toxicity of our buildings has increased as more and more synthetics are used.

But even if we're just talking about fragrances, and we really do have a "toxin bucket" that can "get full", and once we get full, we get sick, then what does it mean that we are bathing in, slathering our skins with, inhaling, and washing our clothes in stuff that we have a hunch might not be so good for us?

". . . . . .health effects from exposures are often difficult to detect. While some effects are immediate and noticeable, others are gradual, subtle, and sub-clinical. Of particular concern are chronic and often low-level exposures to mixtures of chemicals, which are the type of exposures that typify daily life.

Human exposure studies, over the past two decades, have revealed widespread U.S. population exposure to VOCs (Wallace et al., 1991b;Wallace, 2001). Paradoxically, the largest contributors of VOCs to human exposure (nearly 90%) are not the sources traditionally recognized and regulated, but rather sources that are small, close to us, largely unregulated, yet often within our control (Wallace, 2001; Wallace et al., 1987), such as consumer products and other indoor sources. In particular, fragrance compounds, used in a wide variety of consumer products, can be primary sources of human exposure to VOCs (EPA, 1989; Sack et al., 1992; Wallace et al., 1991a; Cooper et al., 1992, 1995)."

Source: Steinemann AC, Fragranced consumer products and undisclosed ingredients, Environ Impact Asses Rev (2008), doi:10.1016/j.eiar.2008.05.002

Two recent situations I've been in that I find ironic:

I live in a state where you cannot smoke, even outside, within 25 feet of any doorway, air vent, window, or opening to a public space (even privately owned businesses), yet my Beloved cannot risk going to the City Building to pay the water bill without wearing a filter-mask, because the clerk might be wearing perfume, or have a Downy addiction.

My Beloved went to the public library to pick up the book she had put on hold (How everyday products make people sick : toxins at home and in the workplace / Paul D. Blanc), but she couldn't bring it home and read it because it reeked of perfume.

So, there is my story, and some facts.

Now, here's what you can do:

What You Can Do For Yourself and Your Family:

• Get that stuff out of your home, off your skin, and out of your clothes (and off of your loved ones' skin and clothes.)
• There is a great round-up here about becoming fragrance-free.
  
• Check the labels on your body and hair-care products -- but first, get educated about tricky words like "unscented", "natural", and "perfume free". If it says "fragrance", it has chemicals in it that you have no idea about. Even some "fragrance free" products can be dicey, because of the masking chemicals, which do not have to be listed as fragrance. Most products sold at Natural Food stores that are listed as Fragrance Free are reliable -- but I prefer items that have an entire list of ingredients, and say so. You may be able to find out more about your existing products at Skin Deep, which has a database of safe and unsafe cosmetics. (You can also research individual ingredients there, because even fragrance-free products can contain other chemicals you don't want on you or in you.)
  
• Start using products that are environmentally safe and safe for you. Here's a great start: http://www.peggymunson.com/mcs/products.html
• Get educated -- all of the links in this post lead to real information, much of it peer-reviewed scientific study and official reports, the rest from people who deal with MCS.
  

Here's what's currently in use at my house:

• Seventh Generation Free & Clear Laundry and Household cleaning products
• Bon-Ami
• Citra-Solv
• White Vinegar (cleans windows, surfaces, and absorbs fragrances in rooms)
  
• Baking Soda (mix it with vinegar to clear drains, absorbs smells -- you can even wash your hair with it -- and yes, it does work -- my Beloved has been using it, and her hair looks, and feels, great.)
  
• Shampoos and Hair Care Products vary, but I like Aubrey Organics (also, there are very inexpensive and effective ways to go fragrance-free that don't involve buying expensive fragrance-free products -- check the links above).
• We usually purchase locally-handmade soaps, but we always have Dr. Bronner's on hand (sometimes, literally on hand).

What You Can Do For Your Chemically Sensitive Friends:

• Get educated. There's a wealth of information out there. You might want to start with Peggy Munson, and MCS.org.
• Ask them what their sensitivities are. Take them seriously. This is real. It's not in their heads, and if you choose to use fragrance and then hang around them, they can end up feeling lousy for hours, days, weeks, or months.
  
• Don't be offended if they're hesitant to hug you, or invite you to their house, or when they say that they can't accompany you to a certain restaurant or concert or bar. It isn't you -- it's your chemicals.
  
• Remember that when you choose to wear fragrance around your friend, even if you know it will trigger reactions in them, it's kind of like blowing cigarette smoke in the face of someone with emphysema -- your choice is trumping their health.
• Remember that some people are triggered by off-gassing from new plastic items, so consider this when choosing gifts and packaging.
• Speak up for them when other people scoff at their needs. Help people get educated.
  

Giving up fragranced products has been difficult for some people I know.

There seems to be a tendency to think that the person with the MCS is the one with the problem, rather than a willingness to look at the fact that maybe the level of toxicity we live in and around is the problem.

Last week, a student came to class wearing perfume. She is a nutritionist, and when my Beloved had a conversation with her about fragrance, the student cheerfully informed Beloved that she had been helping people with MCS improve through dietary changes -- maybe she could help Beloved, too! My Beloved thanked her, told her that she is working with *therapies that were helping her, and then said:

"You know, even if I'm not having reactions to the chemicals, I still don't want to live around that stuff." The young woman looked honestly baffled at this.

But you see -- I don't actually think of MCS as a "disease" (the "canary in the coal mine" comes to mind) -- instead, I think that, as we increasingly surround ourselves with more and more and more low-level toxins, all of us may be"getting our buckets filled" -- and that those whose MCS reactions are more extreme may be our early-warning signal, giving us a glimpse of what's to come if we don't clean up our act.

============
*I've asked my Beloved to write a post at her own blog about the things that she's doing that are helping her deal with her reactions to chemicals. It's not ready yet, but when it is, I'll update this post with a link.

Posted byPortlyDyke at 9:20 PM 22 comments  

Labels: Environmental, MCS, True Stories

I Adore Sarah Haskins

(h/t to Namechanged, who keeps up on Teh Sarah)

Posted byPortlyDyke at 10:15 AM 1 comments  

Me and My Blotter
Saturday, November 15, 2008

OK --so, I live in this little town -- a really sweet, quirky, weird little town.

The town bumper sticker on the vehicles of "committed" residents is:


When I moved here eight years ago, I was a bit nervous at first. With a population of 7,000 (at that time), a paper mill for the "big employer", a large number of military bases within a 50 mile radius, and acres and acres of surrounding woodlands, I was a bit daunted about moving from Portland (where I had resided for 22 years) to a little tiny town. Then I saw those bumper stickers everywhere, took a deep breath, and assured myself that everything was going to be A-OK.

I settled in pretty quickly, attending the weekly waffle breakfast at the home of a man who opens his home on Sunday mornings to all comers -- and makes batch after batch of his prized waffle recipe. Visitors bring the raspberries, real maple syrup, whipped cream, etc., -- and musical instruments -- there's usually an impromptu concert after -- a mellow, carbohydrate-soaked concert. This tradition is simply known as "Waffles" -- as in: "Will I see you at Waffles?", "You gonna be at Waffles this week?", and "OMG! You'll never believe what happened at Waffles!"

I attended the Kinetic Sculpture Race -- in which contestants build a human-powered vehicle that must race on water, land, mud, and sand, the "winner" gets the Mediocrity Award (Offishul Rules here) -- for coming in -- not first -- not last -- but smack dab in the middle, and the finale at the Mud Bog is accompanied by the Teddy-Bear Toss (in which stuffed animals are catapulted -- from a huge catapult -- across a football field into the arms of waiting children).

I've been in the "Port Townsend Family Portrait" most years since I moved here -- a full poster-sized photo of thousands of residents, usually photographed from a crane or the top of a building (wish I could take a photo that would do it justice, but even wall-sized, the faces are so tiny that it's a game of Where's Waldo to pick out your friends, or yourself, in the crowd).

But probably my very favorite part of my quirky little town is our Police Blotter and Sheriff's Log -- one of the real reasons I shell out 75 cents for the local weekly paper.

There are Blotter entries that I have clipped and saved, and after laughing uproariously with a friend yesterday as I read my favorite snippets to her, I thought I'd blog a few. It's not like we have zero crime in our town (in fact, there's a meth-lab problem in some areas of the county) -- let's just say that what constitutes the typical entries in the weekly paper are pretty low-key -- and some of them are downright hilarious.

"A dog has been seen running with a pack of coyotes. The dog's former owner said Jan. 1 that the dog is part coyote."

"On May 25th, Officers were called to the scene of a party where a 24-year old man had become stuck in a hide-abed sofa."

"Goats were said to be loose Dec. 30 on Cedar Avenue"

"There was a report of a fire March 19 at East Price Street. Deputies responded and found the fire to be piece of furniture in a fire ring. The people were warned about burning particle board shelving."

"A PT man said he was assaulted after he was struck in the head Dec. 31 by a lobster tail"

Now, to be perfectly fair, the follow-up article in the next week's paper (Yes. There was a follow-up article) did reveal that it was a frozen lobster-tail. So, there is that.

*TRIGGER WARNING* Now, the next one isn't really funny -- but honest to Maude -- I had to wonder if the author of the blotter wasn't just fucking with someone's head with the last line:

"On March 25, a woman brought a doll that she found in the 200 block of Adams Street to the police department. The doll had been altered with satanic symbols. The doll's owner can retrieve it at the police station." [emp mine]

(/TriggerWarning)

But my all time favorite was this one:

"A woman called 911 on Dec 26 to complain that her relatives were annoying her."

I was like: "Holy Shit! You can call 911 for that?!?!"

If only I'd known sooner.

Posted byPortlyDyke at 10:10 AM 9 comments  

Labels: Funny Fluff, My Town