One Year Closer to Death

Birthdays used to be fun. Lots of gooey cake with loads of frosting and candles, ice cream, presents, cards, balloons and parties full of stinky people. They sometimes signified momentous occasions like getting a driver's license, being able to vote, or do some legal drinking. Now they just mark time. And they come faster. Still, it's not good to wallow in self-pity and wonder where the years went feeling like my life is over when in fact, I've only lived half of it.

So I celebrated by buying myself some new BIRTHDAY SLIPPERS! Healthier than cake and ice cream and cheaper than plastic surgery.

There is nothing more cheerful than new birthday slippers with cheerful, artsy designs on them.  These are from the Haflinger collection and the style is called Calypso. Perfect name for the design because they are happy slippers made for dancing! So new and just out of the box they still have tags on them.

Here is a photo with my feet in them feeling happy:

 

I ordered them off the Zappos website. I so rarely order anything online for fear of screw ups, but the shoe store I normally go to didn't have my size or my normal color. In fact it didn't have hardly any sizes and only one color! With all wood and tile floors in my house, I need slippers to provide cushion to my feet. Most brands are made out of synthetic petro-based materials and manufactured in China. Chinese slippers make my feet sweat uncomfortably and if I'm ever caught in a house fire, they would melt on my feet. Gross.

Haflingers are Polish and made from natural boiled wool, not sprayed or treated, non-smelly without any chemicals, warm, and so comfortable. The last pair I bought were Haflingers, too. They had hard soles so I could walk around outside if I wanted. Well, I never go outside with them because I have no desire to contaminate the inside of my house with outside dirt. Unfortunately, those hard soles were noisy and left black marks all over my floors so I was hoping to find something less high maintenance.

Although the store failed miserably at making a sale, I feel very fortunate. I came home, got online and found them not only in my color, but in these wild colors! And this wild design doesn't have hard soles instead nice soft-ish ones with skid dots.



For those of you who might be interested in buying all wool slippers, they do wear out especially in the toes. My old ones are about three years old and they lasted that long only because I kept sewing the holes closed.

Thankfully I live alone or I'd be embarrassed! HA!

 

I normally wear my dark wool socks with them so the holes aren't as noticeable, but even socks won't help now that the holes are so big. The slippers were practically falling off me. I considered patching them up and then decided I deserved new, happy, birthday feet! Sometimes you just have to treat yourself!

 

On top of all that these were about $15.00 cheaper online and no shipping fees. It only took them four days to arrive just time for my very own personal holiday. The order asked me if I wanted to include a message with my package and I thought, WHY NOT? My message was:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I LOVE YOU!

HAHAHAHAHAHA

 

It makes one year closer to death a little easier to take.

Now I want some matching pajamas and bathrobe....strawberry colored.

FREEBIES!

I'm sure I've said this before, but I love Freecycle. It's like Christmas for free. Self-gifting. Personal presents. Since I'll not be moving anytime soon and that depresses me, I decided I needed some self-love. Then someone posted these:

TOASTER OVEN!

I fantasize about living in a tiny house and have read many replace full size ranges, stove/oven combinations, with single hot plates and a toaster oven or microwave. There is no way I would add a microwave to a tiny space. I can't imagine living too long with all those radiation waves bouncing around. I've never had a toaster oven, but I've been told you can use them for baking. This one goes up to 450 degrees! And thirty minutes. Bake or broil. I'm a little scared. I wonder if I put a piece of meat in there if the sizzling would cause a fire? I think most people use these for "toast", hence, the name, but I don't eat bread, or English muffins, or bagels so I need to be creative and try it out for other things.

 

TREADMILL!

I've always wanted a treadmill. Well, you know if I end up in a tiny house this will end up in the shed or sold at a garage sale, but for now I have lots of room and need to be able to walk inside so I don't have to suffer the indignity of dog barking. It's a manual and it works, but it's a very unnatural way to walk. One must jump on then force the tread to move by digging your feet into it and walking. I think it's more like climbing a mountain which provides a really good workout in a short amount of time, but I really need something for walking. I think a huge electric one would be better, but those are very heavy so I'm limited to what I can carry into the house myself. Oh well! Live and learn. It was free. It has come in handy when I get cold from lack of heat. I jump on it for five minutes and I'm sweating like a pig. Excellent!

I love freebies. Yet another cure for depression. I'm on my way to a positive attitude!

Stink Eye

I'm surrounded by dogs. My block has ten houses on it and seven of them have dogs. Some have multiple dogs. They all bark. Usually one at a time so all day long I have dog barking. Sometimes they bark all at once when one sets the others off like a domino effect. Some of the dogs bark exactly at the same time every day so I always know what time it is without looking at the clock. You'd think this might be a daily convenience, but it's not. It's obnoxious, rude, self-centered and entitled. It amazes me people are so incredibly sociopathic that they are oblivious or apathetic toward the people around them.

My second year in this house my closest neighbors moved in with three dogs ten feet away from me. They barked from six in the morning until one in the morning. All day long and into the night. Their ignorant owners left them home to lay around the yard with nothing to do. To entertain themselves they'd bark at the neighbors, the mail lady, the internet guy, the electric meter reader, the water guys, the religious people, other dogs, cats, birds, falling leaves, and wind. All day long. When they weren't barking, they were whining or howling. That year I lost $10,000 in income suffering the terrorism of barking dogs.

First, I approached the nasty dog woman and told her about the barking for hours at a time. I assumed she just didn't know and if she did she would want to be the good neighbor. She laughed and bragged about how energetic they were. The second time she bragged about how devoted they were and how they missed her when she was gone. The third time I wrote her a letter. The fourth time I wrote her a letter. The fifth time she came over to my house told me I was stalking her, her dogs have a right to bark, and I no longer get a quiet neighborhood so get used to it.

I called the police. They would come to my house and ask me what I would like them to do as if they had no idea how to do their job. Useless. The police chief told me to keep a DOG LOG so every time I'd hear barking I was supposed to stop what I was doing and log it. This went on for a year with absolutely no resolution. What a waste of my time. This is called revictimizing the victim. I learned a lot about law that year. Laws are in place to protect the perpetrators, not the victims. Several people in law enforcement repeated this to me. The barking continued. I wrote letters to the newspaper, the city council,  the city attorney and even the governor. The other neighbors empathized with me, but most said they didn't want to get involved. One told me it was a mistake to call the police as he would have "taken care of the dogs" for me. I asked him how long was I supposed to wait? Two years? Three years? What a arrogant, idiotic liar. I wish someone would "take care of his dogs". The neighbor on the other side of me said too cheerfully, "The barking doesn't bother me!" None of them were ten feet away from barking dogs.

Eventually all this went to court. The sociopathic dog owning neighbors were told to remove the dogs from the city limits and not return for a year. They still own the house. Although it's been seven years, I figure they could move back in any time with their nasty hell hounds. Yet another reason from a list of a hundred why I need to move. All my work did eventually pay off as I had the ordinances changed so barking dogs can now be impounded rather than be allowed to bark constantly while the city government decides what to do. I have no confidence in the police and I can't imagine they'd do anything other than ask with stupidity written all over their faces what they should do.

For the past seven years anytime anyone has a neighbor with a nuisance dog, they come to me to complain. I suffer their whining until I finally say, "Have you told the dog owner?" Oh, no, they can't do that. They'd rather gossip to everyone in the area rather than be honest with the person causing the problem. I'm pretty sure they expect me to be the responsible one. I tell them, "How fun for you. Tough luck." And then I laugh and walk away.

Recently one of my neighbors came running to me to complain about the new dog right next to them barking for hours late at night outside their bedroom window. I repeated what she said to me years before, "The barking doesn't bother me." I smiled cheerfully and added, "Now you know how I felt." She stomped away in frustration. Revenge is sweet. What people don't understand is if you don't work together in a neighborhood to combat nuisance behavior, no one will support you when you are the victim. Lesson learned, assholes.

People come, people go, and now the neighborhood is filled with dogs owned by trailer trash and sociopaths. This is the ghetto. The people living in the house next to me just got a new dog, an ugly little Chihuahua that they let out to bark at midnight, four in the morning and maybe once or twice during the day. The dog is small enough the barking doesn't stop me from what I am doing nor affect my income. It's just irritating. The other dogs are far enough away to be irritating, but they don't yet affect my quality of life.  It's all about proximity, a concept the law doesn't get when it comes to barking dogs.

A couple weeks ago one of my neighbors started giving me the stink eye every time I drove by her house, glaring at me like she's a thirteen year old bully attempting to express herself but she's too immature to communicate with words. She's lived next to me for three years with her barking dogs. Recently the loudest barking dog died and Stink Eye quickly replaced it with another one more energetic and louder. It barks throughout the day starting at 5:30 in the morning when I walk. As I pass by the house, it starts frantically barking at me in the window then it's allowed to run outside and torment the whole neighborhood as the noise reverberates through the darkness. Irritating as hell especially at close range, but again, the dog is far enough away so it doesn't disrupt my day when I'm in my house. I can't imagine how people live with a loud, barking dog right in their own home, but studies show the lower the person's IQ, the less barking noise is bothersome.

I don't care that she's giving me the stink eye although I'm baffled. She's rude, self-centered, entitled, obnoxious, and mentally ill as most dog owners are, but we've always pretended to be respectful of each other. Well, that's relative. I've secretly nicknamed her "The Nazi" because she's German and because Nazis used to torment people with their dogs as well. Still, why the stink eye, Stink Eye? (New nickname.) I have no idea. I've been pondering this for the last week.

Then I realized...her dog doesn't bark at 5:30 in the morning any more! In fact I haven't heard it during the day either. I've seen it out in the yard, but no barking. Did someone finally call the police? And she thinks it's me? Other neighborhood gossips might have whispered over the fence and blamed me as the police-caller. I have a history of that sort of behavior, you know.

I love it. I don't care if she thinks it's me as long as the dogs shut up. In fact, if someone called the police, a second call from a different house holds weight so I might as well call myself since she already might be thinking it's me. I wonder who it was?

One neighbor works graveyard and I know she hates barking dogs. She doesn't get along with Stink Eye because one of Stink Eye's dogs has attacked her dog more than once. She also used to work at the police dispatch so she has some clout. When I am walking and listening this dog barking she is just coming home and crawling into bed. Did she call? Maybe. The barker is much closer to her than me so it must make her crazy. Which is ridiculous since her dog barks all night when she's gone.

Or maybe Stink Eye is just on vacation and she removed her devil dogs from the property. Even that is good news although temporary and I get to look forward to noise returning soon. I'd be happier if someone called the police on her.

I do my best to avoid these people and the games they play, but they can't seem to stay away from me and persist in infecting my life with their stink and noise. I refuse to play their gossip games and I resent their intrusion in my life.

Can I move now?

My Remedy for Depression

I've heard depression is classified as self-anger. OK, I can accept that. I am angry at myself for wasting $700 plus $500 in multiple attempts to escape my circumstances and I am angry at myself for moving to these circumstances in the first place and getting stuck here. Understanding why I'm angry and depressed doesn't make it feel better. What does make it feel better is DEMOLITION. Or...I need a project! Something physically and mentally exhausting.



 

Remember my three-quarter antique spool bed I found free off Freecycle? The same bed I stripped and painted twice? It needs a mattress. Three-quarter size mattresses aren't common so this means I'd either have to special order one which is impossible since they soak them in formaldehyde and fire-resistant treatments OR make one. Making one involves finding organic mattress pads, stacking them, sewing them together, covering them, and hoping the plywood I place underneath as support doesn't stink to high heaven. I read I might need up to seven pads and at nearly $100 each, that's $700. Well, you know I already spent that money unwisely when it would have gone to better use toward a new mattress! Damn, that makes me angry.

The bed frame has been sitting mattress-less for the last six months. It depresses me to look at it. I need something to destroy, or rather, repurpose, so I decided to take it apart and make a bench out of it. This was my original plan for this bed as I didn't think it would be in such great shape. I figure the bench can serve as my new couch. The plan is to use the existing hardware so I can take it apart and move it easily. Currently my upholstered antique couch weighs nearly 2,000 pounds. It's hell to move. I'd love to sell it. I want something smaller and lighter weight. Can I do it?

The first challenge was figuring out how to cut the foot board in two parts without screwing it up. I looked forward to this as the foot board makes me angry. I thought the bed was in its original condition until my woodworking friend came over and pointed out the foot board decoration had been removed. Damn. Besides watching this bed sit for six months, looking at the foot board reminds me it's damaged. I want it to be pretty. It's not and that makes me angry. I need to annihilate it. (Expressing emotions is good....)

See the middle of the foot board where it's straight?
There used to be pretty woodcarving there probably
repeating the design of the head board.

Unfortunately, all I have is a hand saw. I bought it many years ago for one dollar and it has assisted me through all kinds of construction projects. I don't trust myself to be able to cut through twelve inches of wood by hand in a straight line. My woodworking friend suggested using a chop saw in order to get a straight, clean line and offered to let me use his. Bonus! Once I completed this very important step, I studied and contemplated the remaining steps and then continued to hand-saw all other wood pieces: the front board (made from the original bed rails) and the supporting seat boards. Physical labor makes a person forget about anger or depression. Especially if it hurts and hand-sawing hurts!

Check it out:

 

I have yet to make a cushion for it so I used my quilts and folded them up for some temporary padding.

Here is the view of the hardware so you can see how it all attaches. It was tricky.

I'll wait to touch up the paint this summer. I made all kinds of
mistakes in the name of demolition like drilling right
through the wood. HA!

 

If I were to attach everything permanently with screws, it would be the weight of a whole bed and too heavy for me to lift let alone move gracefully. That would make me angry.

There is a problem, however. When I picked up this bed from the Freecycle giver she told me, "It's a wonderful bed. Just don't have any monkey sex and it'll be fine." Now, I didn't ask for details. I thought it was really weird and little creepy a stranger would talk to me about monkey sex. I visualized this woman having monkey sex for a horrible instant and promptly ignored the comment pretending she never said it. Ah ha! Now I know what she meant...

It falls apart. Any little movement and the hardware attachments come undone. I would think a heavy mattress would hold it down and stabilize it, but according to the woman, I guess not. With much trepidation, I've test-sat on my new bench. It's not a relaxing piece of furniture nor something I would want to curl up on and watch some T.V. It wiggles. The first time I tried to move it from my guest bedroom to another bedroom, it leaned slightly, and the whole thing fell apart. SPLAT! If it wasn't so comical, it might have made me angry, but I had just finished hand-sawing six 2 x 4 pieces of wood so I was rather relaxed. Still, the splat did not give me great confidence...a bench sitter could get hurt. Not sure how to remedy the situation. I'll think on it.

Thinking and planning, besides physical labor, is also a remedy for depression. It occupies one's mind.

I feel better.

Snow and Frostbite

I still don't have a centralized heating system that keeps my whole house warm so I'm wrapping myself in my 30-degree-below-zero sleeping bag to keep from getting frostbite. We've had a cold spell here this last week. Very little humidity, dry, cold, and windy bringing the temperatures back down into the teens. But not today! It warmed up just long enough to snow!

I love snow. I'd love it more if I had heat. I think I'll have to cave and get some heat next week. I was hoping I could move instead, but that's not going to be happening. It's supposed to rain tomorrow.

Desperation = Stupidity

There aren't many rentals out there right now and I'd say for every one advertised there are at least thirty applicants. More if the place is clean, maintained, and in a decent neighborhood. Competition is tough. In the recent past I've been put on waiting lists as the landlords are overwhelmed by the response. Besides my long lists of non-toxic needs, this competition makes it even more difficult to find a new home. I want desperately to move out of Rathole. I'm a prisoner here. It's depressing.

I found another rental. The key is to respond as soon as they are posted, but I was told it was rented and the guy backed out. I should have taken that as a sign. It's a small, freestanding cottage with a small yard. I had misgivings right away as it's located in the same town as the Moldy Slumlady's mold-invested dive, but I was going to be up in that area and I thought I'd just look. Just look. Famous last words.

It was small and cute with a little bedroom loft. It had all electric appliances and heat and real hardwood floors. It also had a carpet, but the carpet had been offgassing for four years. They allowed pets. Carpet and pets on my "no way" list. It also had a non-existent crawlspace sealed up with wood planks with little evidence of ventilation...and a roof covered in moss. That screams MOLD. Third strike, your out! I should have high-tailed it back to my van and drove away, instead I walked inside expecting to smell mildew and mold. For a flash of a moment I did smell something, and then it stopped. That was weird. Then nothing. I smelled nothing. This gave me great amount of hope. I liked the landlady. She also didn't stink. She was an organic gardener.

Fifteen minutes later my head did a little spin and stopped. That was weird. Then my lungs started feeling heavy, but it was minor. I stalled, buying time to stay in the space and continued to breathe deeply. The spin and lung issue was a little perplexing. Did the former tenants have cats? There are two heaters in this tiny space, both on full blast. The place is hot. Is that what caused my reaction or is the heat camouflaging the smell.

As I inspected the place, I'm finding it unreasonably dirty with dead bugs in the window sills and soap scum in the shower. Old, used soap is left in the dispenser. Gross. I justified all this with no one is as clean as I am and instead of registering this as a concern I wondered if I'm just a weirdo and need to be reasonable. I'm not looking for perfection, just safety. I took an application and the landlady told me to get it back to her by the weekend as that's when she'd be making her choice. This house was being rented month to month (so rare) and the landlady wasn't charging for the application nor credit check (so rare). It didn't cost anything to take the application or even submit it. Still my instincts are screaming at me. The head spin and lung reaction was a little unnerving, but it was minor and went away immediately. What am I missing? Can I do this?

I sought counseling from my two closest friends. One is a nurse. Neither are chemically sensitive. I list my concerns hoping one of them would recognize my idealistic pattern of ignoring the obvious. I even expressed the concern the landlady reminded me of the Moldy Slumlady: both are from California, about the same age, have organic gardens, and both own a house that used to be a garage without an inadequate foundation. My friends tell me to jump right in there and give it a shot. Both know I'm desperate and are trying to be supportive. Advice is free and neither of them will lose money because of my bad decisions.

So why am I ignoring the obvious?

Once I'm home I fill out the application and email it to the landlady. Why not? What do I have to lose? Yet. When the landlady started calling my references, I start praying she doesn't pick me. But I AM selected! Out of 35 applicants, the landlady wants me. I WIN! Damn...

But my instincts still are screaming at me. Do I listen?

I email the landlady asking her more specific questions:

Is there a plastic vapor barrier under the house? NO.

Were the carpets cleaned before my visit? NO.

Did she use any air fresheners before my visit?  I asked this because during my visit my head was spinning, but I smelled nothing. Did she use Febreze which would have annihilated my sense of smell? Perhaps the chemicals caused the spin? NO. She claimed she doesn't use air fresheners nor toxic cleaners.

She figured out really quickly I was chemically sensitive and did tell me there is a mill in the town. I knew that. I've been in that town many times with no reaction. I told her I was worried about the foundation and crawlspace as without a vapor barrier there would be mold issues. She claimed when they remodeled there was no mold to be found anywhere. She has asthma and is very sensitive to mold and chemicals as well. This gave me great hope. I made the assumption the carpets just needed a good cleaning. I volunteered to do it for her since I had the non-toxic shampoo. She had the carpet cleaner.

WHY am I volunteering to clean a rental that should be clean before I arrive? Why am I even considering a filthy place that screams loudly THESE PEOPLE ARE SLOBS.

This is where I should have walked away, but I'm desperate. I want it to work. My instincts are screaming at me and I'm ignoring them. I planned to go look at it one more time and then I'll decide if I want to give this woman money. For a moment I consider I should stay the night in it before I sign anything, but the carpets were never cleaned. I wouldn't last the night sleeping in the same space as filthy carpets.

I looked a second time. This time I don't smell anything. My head doesn't spin. My lungs don't even hurt or feel heavy. I check the ceiling for any leaks. I ask about the overabundance of heaters and why the house is kept so hot. She doesn't give me any reasons just how wonderfully they work. Heat would camouflage stink, but I forget that. I want so desperately for this to work. I look at the floors and walls. At one point I get on my knees down on the carpet to check a corner and when I get up I have long white fur all over my black pants. I ask the woman if the previous tenants had cats and she says they shouldn't have, but maybe they did without her knowing. I make the ignorant assumption I might be reacting to cats and if the carpets are cleaned, that might do the trick. I'm being hopeful and idealistic, but I need this to work.

I sign over an enormous amount of money to cover security deposit and rent and she hands me the keys along with the carpet shampooer. I vacuum and clean the carpets. Immediately I feel sick and my head starts spinning. The water the carpet cleaner is sucking up is nearly black with dirt. So gross. How can people live in such filthy? Granted, on the surface the place looks clean, just don't look too closely. The longer I'm in the house, the sicker I get. I'm tempted to rip up a corner of the carpet to see what's under. At one point I leave to go out to my van, come back in and I can smell the musty stink in the air. Is it mold? Did the moisture from the carpet cleaner incite the mold spores in the air? The electric heaters would have dried the inside of the house out. By the time I leave I am so sick my whole body is hurting, but I think I just need to get away. At this point I'm STILL hopeful!

I have yet to sign up for electricity, garbage, and internet. Internet is a one year commitment. Is it mold? Is it the carpet? Is it the pet dirt? All these things are on my NO WAY list, so why did I even consider them for a second? I kept thinking if I can fix whatever problem, I'd be fine. That's what I did with my house. I fixed it and it's safe. But with a rental, I forget I don't have the luxury of making changes. It's not my house. The landlady is adamant there is no mold so she's not going to let me fix something that isn't there. I'm feeling worse with every passing minute. By the time I get home I'm feeling the full effects of some kind of exposure.

I call the landlady when I get home and tell her I can't move in. I consider I should wait a week and go back, but then I would lose two months rent instead of one. She tells me it might be the mill as it causes people to get sick. I tell her it's mold. She tells me it isn't. I keep wondering why Californians don't think a vapor barrier under a house is necessary. She thinks it might be the carpet, maybe residue from past cleanings. I doubt it. I saw the dirt that came up. I doubt if those carpets had ever been cleaned. I wonder why the HELL I cleaned them and she didn't? I give her my 30 day notice according to the rental agreement I signed less than five hours ago (how ridiculous). She tells me to sleep on it and decide in the morning. She wants me to be the tenant. Even though we are talking on the phone I can hear the dollar signs cha-changing in her eyes. I'm the winner after all.

All night I can't breathe, my body itches and burns, my head pounds and I feel sick to my stomach. This isn't cats. I haven't had a reaction like this for a long time. Even the house of the Moldy Slumlady didn't affect me like this. Anytime I start to doze off I wake up gasping for air. The landlady didn't realize "sleeping on it" would only make me feel worse. By the morning my decision is clear and I give an official notice. I lose $700 in less than 12 hours. She said she will return my security deposit. She claims she has to go through the application process again. I tell her she doesn't if she had 35 applicants. This is how she justifies keeping money she doesn't deserve. This is my reward for being the winning candidate, the responsible one, and my reward for ignoring my instincts. Lucky me.

No more rentals for me. Not only should I not be wandering into strange, toxic homes, but I don't even have the sense to trust my instincts. I'm an idiot and it's too expensive to keep trying. At this point I'm convinced I'll never be able to find a place to rent that's reasonably priced unless I want to be in a slum, and I can't afford to buy a new home in a nice neighborhood. Cheap rent or cheap mortgage and I'd be stuck once again in a trailer-trash community where all the poor people and their low-class barking dogs congregate. Whatever move I make, rent or buy, I can't imagine it'll be an improvement. I might as well stay right where I am. At least it's safe, that's if I can manage the growing depression due to my circumstances. I am a prisoner.

I wish I could find an advocate. Someone who understands chemical sensitivity who would keep my instincts in check and go to bat for me. Someone to scream at me, Look at what you are saying, IDIOT, this isn't right for you! If I end up in the hospital unconscious, I'd need someone like this. A body guard to stand over my helpless body and scream at doctors and nurses, Keep those nasty chemicals and drugs away from her! Are you wearing perfume, you ignorant fool, stand back! I think anyone who is chemically sensitive needs an advocate. I'd be a good advocate for a chemically-sensitive person. If I knew anyone in my area, I'd volunteer for them.

Unfortunately, I am alone. Only the stupid move to Rathole and get stuck here.

Rental Roulette

OK. I've been building my courage back up since last spring and I'm ready to jump back in and start looking at rentals again.

I desperately need to get out of Rathole and away from its psychopathic inhabitants.

Living here is making me crazy.

It's difficult to find a place that fits my requirements:

Small: studio or one bedroom, two bedrooms if I must.

No carpeting.

No laminate or linoleum flooring, hardwood  or tile preferred.

No propane.

Electrical appliances: stove, oven, heaters, refrigerator, washer and dryer.

No close neighbors.

No dog neighbors.

No noise.

No pets allowed.

No smoking allowed.

Not too expensive rent.

Not too expensive utilities.

Internet available.

No mold.

Good foundation.

No particle board.

No stink.

Clean and well-maintained.

Organic groceries nearby.

Nice landlords, preferably not living on the property. I like privacy.


Is my wish list even attainable? I can compromise on some of it.

I found a cabin to rent! It is a one bedroom with a huge porch facing the water. WATERFRONT property! Clams and oysters twenty feet from my backdoor! Most of the neighbors are weekenders so they are rarely around. The closest neighbor is about 100 feet away, a house owned and rented by the same landlord who doesn't allow pets. New appliances. Electric heat. Hardwood floors. Washer and dryer in the cabin. Lots of windows. Lots of trees. Lots of privacy. Low rent. Internet.

Perfect.

I went for a visit with my handy safety checklist clutched tightly in my sweaty palms. So quiet. The wind through the trees sounded beautiful. Waves lapping on the shore. This is paradise. The neighborhood was upper middle class in the woods with houses far apart. There is a creek running down to the water between my cabin and the house next door. I can barely see the neighbor's house through the trees. The door wasn't locked so I went in. Perfect. There was a very faint "new" smell. Was it the paint, floor, or appliances? Hmmm... I walked over to the other rental, a huge house right on the water, and knocked. No barking dogs! So rare! I asked the man what he knew about the rental and the neighborhood. He seemed really nice and had nothing but good things to say. He also likes quiet. Too perfect.


I call the landlord and talk to her husband. They live out of state. How perfect! He gives me more perfect information about the perfect neighbors, the perfect town, the perfect area, and then he says, "The reason we don't allow animals is because there is a rabbit on the property that runs free."

"WHAT DID YOU SAY? RABBIT? DID YOU SAY RABBIT?"  It's a sign!!! Peter has sent me a sign that this is my new, perfect home! I'm sure the landlord's husband thought I was crazy. I start gushing, "I LOVE BUNNIES!" After several more minutes of more perfect information, I hung up determined to live in that perfect little cabin on the water come hell or high water...

Hell? Did I say Hell? Hell is a reminder of how bad it can be. What am I missing? I was determined not to make the same mistake as last time, but I am so desperate for something to work that all rational thinking disappears and I stop seeing the reality. What am I missing? Time to turn on my brain. Flip the switch. Maybe if I actually look at my checklist I'll come back down to earth.

After I hung up with the landlord's husband I fought the urge to jump in my car for home so I can fill out the application and GIVE them my deposit. I am far too free with giving deposits! It's like I'm convinced if I give the deposit, then all will work out.  I've learned with experience, it doesn't work that way. I hesitated. I sat in my van pondering. I decide to stall. Slow down.

I called my friend who lives nearby. I needed some counseling and a reason to sit there and gain some insight. I needed a reality check. I can always count on her for a reality check. I know I'm talking a mile a minute and I know I'm blind to anything I'm missing. As I'm babbling about how perfect it all is, I go back into the house to give her the "phone" tour. "It's perfect," I exclaim over and over as I describe the details.

I start noticing things...why are the floors buckling in places? I keep telling her, "There are bubbles on the floors."  The ad said the floors were hardwood, but they don't look like hardwood. They look plastic. Cheap, glossy plastic. And the longer I'm in the space, the stronger the smell is getting. I'm not sure if it's paint I'm smelling, but I don't think so. I know paint. This smells like my neighbor's new laminate flooring. As I talk to my friend and she walks me through a good reality check, I wait and stand in the space breathing and thinking, Oh, I can do this! It's just a little smell. As soon as I turn the heat on and warm the place up it'll go away. My friend tells me to turn the heat on. After 15 minutes I start clearing my throat. Repeatedly. I know this isn't a good sign, No, no, it'll be fine. I really want to live in this perfect place! It's perfect! No, this isn't happening.  After 25 minutes, my head starts spinning. For a moment I thought I would fall over from the dizziness. The floors can't be hardwood. They have to be laminate. This is how I react to laminate. The spinning head is my body screaming, WARNING! WARNING! WARNING! but I'm so determined to make it work I do everything possible to ignore it. Finally I can't anymore. Disappointed, but with still a thread of hope, I head back home and email the landlady to ask about the floors. She confirms the floors are hardwood, bamboo.

BAMBOO 

 

 

BAMBOO??? Bamboo is supposed to be one of the best flooring options available. It's supposed to be non-toxic, natural, and healthy. The landlady confirms, "Yes, bamboo is supposed to be the "greenist" flooring available." I don't get it.

 

Wrong. I got online and searched bamboo flooring smell and up pops...

 

 

FORMALDEHYDE

 

Sorry to say, bamboo flooring is made with formaldehyde. There are lots of people online questioning the strong, acidic smell and wondering why their new expensive floors are making them incredibly sick. Just to open the packing box makes their eyes water. Some say after ten months the stink is still there and they are unable to live in their newly built or remodeled homes. And these people aren't even chemically sensitive! Some articles claim the "premium bamboo" (not so cheap stuff) is less toxic because it uses less formaldehyde (3% rather than 20%), but the fact remains someone thought it best to contaminate a perfectly non-toxic piece of expensive wood by adding chemicals to it.

 

I AM SO DISAPPOINTED.

 

You can't imagine how disappointed I am. Depressed. I want to cry. At least I didn't mindlessly and idealistically fill out an application and hand over a deposit before I came to my senses, or rather, before my head started spinning so hard my senses finally flew out.

 

 

Thank you, URFA, for helping me be rational, kicking and screaming all the way.

 

My desperation makes me dangerously brainless and irrational. I am so not good at this rental search.

 

It's so disappointing....Bamboo. Who would have thought?

Paleo/Caveman Diet with Hashimoto's Twist - Two Year Anniversary!

It's been just a little over two years since I started the Dr. Kharrazian Paleo-Hashimoto's diet and after writing my last post on the sacrifices we make to be healthy, I ventured over to the one year anniversary post I wrote in 2012 to review and reflect on my efforts.

What I'm eating now:

Meat, approved:  Lamb, cod, salmon, hamburger, eggs, chicken, tuna (gluten-free)

Meat, forbidden:  Oysters, prawns, clams, bacon

I've been going clam digging this year so my freezer is full. Honestly, I'd rather dig them rather than eating them. Maybe I'll find someone who wants them because I don't. I eat oysters or prawns maybe once a month and bacon is a special treat maybe once every two months for some variety. I have strange dreams when I eat shellfish so I avoid it, but other than that, I don't seem to have any reaction to these meats.

Fruits, winter:  Apples, oranges, avocados, lemons, frozen blueberries, pears, grapefruit, limes

Fruits, summer: Apples, grapes, watermelon, cantaloupe, avocados, blueberries, raspberries, blackberries, nectarines, lemons, pears

Fruits, forbidden:  Bananas

I have a banana about once a month in the winter when so much is unavailable. I avoid them because they are high in sugar and must be imported from far away. I prefer local produce. I have no reaction to them.

Watermelon is supposedly forbidden on the diet, but what I don't understand is it has a lower glycemic value than blueberries, yet blueberries are allowed. In the hot summer months, watermelon makes me feel good with all that extra hydration.

Vegetables, consistently:  Squash (all kinds), lettuce, onions, garlic, peppers, Brussels sprouts, ginger, herbs, broccoli, kale (rarely), carrots, celery

Vegetables, forbidden: Potatoes, pickles, green beans

I crave hot foods when it's cold and try to make due with squash, but for a treat I add potatoes every now and then. After years of picklelessness, one day I just felt like I needed to eat a pickle. I bought the ones at the health store. I rarely eat green beans, but I do.

Other foods: Coconut milk, olive oil, herbs and spices

Other foods, forbidden: Gluten-free desserts, rice, maple syrup, yogurt, canola mayonnaise, peanut butter, carob chips

I know I'm not allowed, but every now and then, about once a month, I treat myself to a gluten-free dessert. They are often made with sugar, dairy and usually rice flour. I don't seem to have any reaction to them, but I know they are forbidden. I think if I ate them consistently, I'm pretty sure I'd have problems.

Unsweetened carob chips...I'm addicted, but they are a hour's drive away so they are easy to avoid.

I caved and bought a jar of peanut butter a few weeks ago and ate the whole thing over a few days! Tasted great, but I felt a little tired. Since giving up dried fruits, I don't usually feel tired so I'm blaming this fatigue on the very forbidden peanut butter which is not a nut, but a legume. The impulse is over. No more.

I'm still eating rice once every two weeks or so, but it seems less necessary and doesn't taste as good. Maybe that salt elimination diet helped?

I get organic, raw, grade B maple syrup and use it to sweeten hot tea for a warming winter drink. It's supposed to be high in vitamins and minerals. I don't use much, but any sweetener is forbidden.

I love yogurt. I buy Nancy's organic, unsweetened, full-fat. It's like ice cream to me. I put blueberries or apples on it.

I eat mayonnaise. The brand I buy from the health food store isn't as bad as the chemical-laden garbage in the grocery store, but it's still forbidden. I've worshipped mayonnaise all my life. I love it. Mooning over mayonnaise makes it sound like I'm eating gallons of it, but in truth, it's only a tablespoon here and there to spice up a meal like fish or salads.

Jeez! I look at that list and scream "CHEATER!" I have been feeling so good, I thought I was doing good, but I guess not!

Food I've Stopped Eating in the Past Year: 

Nuts and seeds...Not sure why but I'm just not interested in eating nuts or seeds anymore. Every now and then I'll buy a handful of pecans because I think I should eat some for the mineral content.  I was eating A LOT of nuts: pecans, almonds, pistachios, brazil nuts, cashews, sunflower seeds and buckets of cockroach-infested almond butter. No longer interested. There must be a reason so I'll listen to my body and obey. I wonder if my lack of nuts contributed to my impulse to buy peanut butter?

Peas...Not feeling the need to eat peas like I was before.

Agave syrup...I don't like it. I replaced it with organic maple syrup which has a higher mineral content.

Dried Fruits...Other than falling off the wagon in September with the dried Asian Pears, I haven't had dried fruits since the elimination test last August. Other than the peanut butter reaction, I've had no fatigue either. So happy to discover that!

Cherries...I used to eat a lot of fresh, in-season cherries in the summer, but someone told me it's impossible to get organic cherries. Even if they claim to be organic, they aren't. She made a really good case for this information so I stopped eating them. I miss them, but they are really expensive.

Pancakes, gluten-free...Not interested, but I'm sure gluten-free desserts are made with the same type of flour.

Hot Dogs...I used to buy the brand at the health food store made with beef and without chemicals or gluten. This was a forbidden food that was one of my every-so-often indulging treats for a while. The last hot dog made my whole mouth break out in blisters! It tasted fine at the time. I'm not sure if the manufacturer screwed up the recipe or if my body decided to scream a warning at me. I listened. I haven't eaten one since and that's a good thing.

 

I'm no longer suffering from exhaustion or fatigue. Few headaches and fewer pains. I haven't lost weight, but I haven't gained weight either. The diet still isn't perfect and neither is my health, but one thing I've realized is being isolated out in the middle of no where with little to do especially in the winter, eating IS my entertainment. Unfortunately. Indulging in a gigantic bowl of very expensive Moroccan Lamb Stew or a huge plate of spicy Jerk Chicken makes my whole day. A gluten-free cupcake every so often is the cherry on top! Eventually I'll be a dieting saint and eat a perfect diet. Maybe. If that's possible. It's hard being human.

Baby steps....

"Nothing Feels as Good as Feeling Good Does"

Happy New Year! Tis' the season to make those resolutions to be a happier and healthier person. This is when we commit to losing weight, eating better, or stopping any number of bad habits that effect our quality of life. Sorry to say, this new-found willpower and inspiration will often last about a month or less until we go back to our old, nasty ways using any number of excuses to justify the failure. I speak from experience. The travesty is how we acquired nasty habits in the first place. Why weren't we taught how to eat and drink for health? Why aren't we afraid of bad habits and the bad health they can cause? Instead most of us spent the first two or more decades of our lives eating garbage, drinking poisons, and indulging in other health-sacrificing behaviors without any concern for what it could be doing to our bodies and ultimately, our health. We were having fun. Is it any wonder it's catching up to us?

How many of us had to get sick before we became healthy? I was recently sent this article with just that title: Why I Had to Get Sick to Get Healthy My favorite quote from it is "nothing feels as good as feeling good does." So true. Those of us suffering from any number of debilitating illnesses would do almost anything to feel better and those sacrifices are worth even moments of feeling healthy. I can't count how many sacrifices I've made just to feel good.

I often hear people accuse their bodies of betraying them with illness, but I'd be more inclined to blame my neighbor for wearing perfume, the grocery checker for using that nasty scented shampoo, or my parents for not teaching me how to live a healthy life. After a lifetime of body abuse, I share in the culpability. If I would have treated my body better, would I be chemically-sensitive today?   If I would have resisted all those pizzas, soft drinks, chocolate candies, cakes, cookies and pies over the years, would I be chemically-sensitive today? If I hadn't worked at perfume-saturated department stores or air-freshened schools, would I be chemically-sensitive today? If I hadn't lived in some of the most polluted cities in the world, would I be chemically-sensitive today? Some of it I couldn't have controlled, but in most cases I had a choice even if it was a difficult choice. Still, I don't blame my body. My body is the victim of my past bad behavior and the bad behaviors of others.

I wish I would have paid more attention to the signs. How many times did eating a whole bowl of cookie dough or cake batter make me sick? Candy bars would give me a face of zits. Drinking diet Coke and I'd be moody and temperamental for days. Once on a dare I ate nine pieces of deep-fried fish with three baskets of French fries then washed it all down with a McDonald's Shamrock Shake. To describe my body's reaction to that torture as horror doesn't even come close! These were choices I made. Did I listen to the warnings and worry even for a moment about the consequences? Nope.

My body is doing what a healthy body should: protecting me from poisons. Even after years of abuse, it's still working. Amazing. Granted, the headaches, nausea, and respiratory failure responses are a real bitch and it is definitely a disadvantage to not be able to live in a toxic city or be anywhere near the bad habits of others, but reacting to poisons are my body's warning signs and I've learned the hard way I should be paying attention. If I would have listened to my body earlier in life, I might not be where I am today. I am a much better listener now.

Hooray, body! Thank you for always being there for me even when I ignored and disrespected you.

I am grateful.

"It's in your mother's anus..."

Girl-Nearly-Not-Alive-with-Butt-Spasms sent this link to me and guaranteed I would laugh so hard I wouldn't be able to breathe. It features examples of text autocorrecting conversations. As I started reading I was smiling, but thought Maybe I'm just not in a laughing mood today? It didn't take long before I was laughing so hard and loud I couldn't breathe and tears were running down my face as I desperately raced to the bathroom before I peed my pants. Besides the weirdly perverted and pornographic-oriented computer brains of the autocorrect, the conversations are hilarious as they attempt to continue the conversation trying to make themselves understood. Usually it just gets worse the more they try.

For "The 30 Most Hilarious Autocorrect Struggles Ever" click HERE

 

 

Enjoy. Laughter is good.

2013: Review and Resolution

Another year has come and gone and it's time to assess the damage.

GOOD THINGS:

VACATION!  So wonderful!

Health Improvement: I finally figured out the cause of fatigue!

Pantry Remodel with a New Tile Countertop: So nice to get it done.

Blog: Never-ending entertainment.

Garden.

Ocean Entertainment: Clam digging.

Peter dies peaceful in old age under the garden shed.

SHIT HAPPENS:

Barking dogs for neighbors.

Can't find a new place to live.

The Moldy Slum Lady.

House maintenance: plumbing problems, heating problems, and sleazy construction workers.

On the radar of a psychopathic sex offender, unfortunately.

The government is so incompetent it amazes me they can function at all.

Peter disappears and might have been eaten alive.

NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION:

Make progress toward finding a new, non-toxic place to live and go on more vacations!


What is your New Year's Resolution?

Christmas Jammies

This is hilarious. Enjoy.

 

 

 

 

 

Laughter is good.

38 Degrees

Damn, it's cold in here. Granted, it's 12 degrees outside, but 38 degrees inside?

This Eden Pure Gen 4 heater definitely doesn't heat 1,000 square feet as the ads proclaim. So I've sealed off my office area which is 100 square feet so I can function. It doesn't even heat 100 square feet efficiently, but it's tolerable. Venturing out to the kitchen or the bathroom is an Arctic adventure. I've also brought the pee bucket into my office to use as a toilet as I'm afraid my naked butt will stick to the frozen toilet seat and I've moved my camping mattress down into my office. I'm really glad I spent my vacation camping in 20 degree weather. It prepared me for this winter! No winter projects for me this year. It's challenging enough just trying to think of creative ways to stay warm.

On the positive side, I feel so much better. My lungs and sinuses aren't congested and the rash on my face has disappeared. I am living in the square footage of a tiny house and loving it! Now if I could just stop shivering.

I need to re-think my heating situation...



I moved the olive oil to the stove top.
It's  so cold,
it's opaque and solid.

Salt

When I was a young, immortal, junk-food junkie, I ate plenty of salt as my diet consisted of 99% processed food with an occasional apple here and there for good measure. I really believed "an apple a day kept the doctor away" regardless of whatever else I consumed. My blood pressure was amazingly low considering the damage my diet was doing to my body.

While in college I went to work at a health food store and with the indoctrination that comes with being around healthy-minded people, I had some basic health-food-store principles beaten into me. One was salt was bad. Salt would kill you. Is that why it makes me blow up like a balloon with water retention? I knew it made me feel fat. I gave it all up. I stopped eating potato chips, canned soups, frozen dinners, processed popcorn, pizza, and beef jerky: the staples of my diet. I banned table salt from my salt shaker. My blood pressure remained low, but I was convinced all that self-denial was doing some good.

 

Many years later when chemical sensitivity was rearing its ugly head, my environmental medicine specialist suggested I eat sea salt. With my indoctrination still intact I was horrified, Oh no, salt is BAD! He disagreed. SEA SALT hasn't been bleached and processed, nor has it been soaked with chemicals and enhancing additives, therefore, it still retains its natural ratios of nutrients, especially trace minerals. He explained we need minerals, especially trace minerals, to keep our bodies in balance which helps in the detoxification of poisons. My chemical sensitivity was based on my inability to detoxify. He suggested my lack of natural salt might have contributed to my chemical sensitivity. It's pretty shocking to hear all that self-denial I thought was helping my state of health might have been doing more harm than good. I tried sea salt and had no side effects. My body didn't swell with water retention and my blood pressure remained low. And OH! It tasted so good!

 

 

I rarely eat processed or canned foods now so my salt intake is probably lower than an average American. My consumption of fresh fruits and vegetables also adds potassium to my diet which is the great equalizer to sodium. I do, however, use a salt shaker full of sea salt and sprinkle it on beef, chicken, rice, squash, and eggs. Yum. And it makes vegetables edible. Bonus. I've grown to love salt! Lately I switched from Celtic sea salt to Himalayan pink salt. This pink salt is still considered sea salt although found in the mountains that were once under water. Hmmm...sounds like fancy sales mythology, but it still makes food taste good and I still have no reaction to it.

Throughout the years I've heard about how salt causes high blood pressure, or what is known as hypertension. There is some debate on whether sea salt is better than regular iodized table salt. Conventional medical doctors say it isn't and the only difference is sea salt tastes better. Some say it's the sodium levels and the chloride ratios that cause the problem regardless of the source.  In other references I've read some people are predisposed to being "salt sensitive." African Americans, in particular, tend to accumulate excesses of sodium and it is highly advised they limit their salt consumption to avoid associated health issues. Even salt sensitive people can have low blood pressure.

I still have low-ish blood pressure, although not as low as when I was younger. However, I was rather athletic in my youth which I'm sure contributed to my readings. Not so much now. I have been diagnosed with Hashimoto's Thyroiditis which is an autoimmune condition that affects the thyroid and with diet I have been able to control it. I am told iodine can trigger autoimmune attacks in people with Hashimoto's. So I wonder...if sea salt has natural levels of minerals, it probably has its share of natural iodine. Would it make a difference if I stopped using it? Since giving up dried fruits, I haven't been tired, but I could use a little more energy. It's time for another elimination test!

I started my experiment three weeks ago by going to the nearest hospital to have my blood pressure checked. It read 118/75 which is considered normal, although getting suspiciously close to prehypertension. Then I gave up my salt shaker and went salt-free!

Observations:

Rice is only edible with salt.

Eggs taste better with salt.

Second day: My whole body is in pain. At first I thought it was from crawling around under my house, but the first time I did the crawl I had no pain. Then I thought maybe it was from the very minor exercising I do, but I've never been in pain before from simple stretching or walking. Every muscle in my body hurts.

Third day: Muscle pain, thirst, nausea, sweating, and headaches. Although I'm still skeptical that this is all from eliminating salt from my diet, it's too coincidental. I've increased my water intake. I don't know if that will help or make it worse as I have read about ramifications of the lack of salt, or hyponatremia. For instance, marathon runners or anyone who exercises vigorously shouldn't consume enormous amounts of water as it will flush the salt from their blood creating problems such as confusion, nausea, seizures, coma and even death. I'm only in pain and experiencing slight nausea at this point. If I get confused or start feeling dead I might eat some salt just to see if it makes a difference. I'm guessing my body is adjusting and it'll take  couple days or it's something totally unrelated causing all this discomfort.

I'M A SALT ADDICT!

 

I searched online and found out I'm going through salt withdrawals! Ha! Who would have thought? Symptoms may include headache, nausea, loss of appetite, depression, and anxiety, to name a few. Food will taste disgustingly bland, but eventually will start tasting good so I look forward to that. Most people intensely crave salt during withdrawals. I'm not craving salt. Well, not yet. The headaches can last 3-5 days or longer because my aldosterone (hormone) levels are adjusting to compensate for the lack of sodium in my body. The remedy is drinking sea salt water because it's assumed the addict is giving up regular, processed table salt and sea salt has minerals to counteract the withdrawals. So I did the next best thing: I took a scalding hot bath with Epsom Salts. I figured that should help with the muscle pain. It did for about fifteen minutes.

 

Fifth day: Headaches and nausea have gone away. Muscle recovery is still slow. Any exercise, even minor, makes my whole body hurt as if I've exercised vigorously for a full eight hours. I know athletes who exercise a lot must replenish their bodies with salt which is how Gatorade and other sports drinks have become so popular. Maybe it's a type of dehydration? Maybe the sea salt stored in my system keeps my muscles hydrated? I am more thirsty.

Seventh day: Severe leg cramps and legs are freezing cold from the knees down and I can't seem to warm them up no matter what I do. Leg cramps are another symptom of hyponatremia, which is low blood sodium. This kind of worries me. I'd like to think it's just coincidental or maybe I exercised too much yesterday, but I didn't do so much it should cause pain. I also read conditions associated with hyponatremia include hypothyroidism, which is a symptom associated with Hashimoto's Thyroiditis. Now that is weirdly coincidental. Maybe that doctor was right in more ways than one: salt is not only good for detoxing and chemical sensitivity, but will also keep my autoimmune condition in check? Maybe I NEED sea salt in my diet? Everything I'm reading says too little salt is as bad as too much and this constant discomfort is rather worrisome. I'm still not craving salt. Not sure if I should stop this test, or keep going and see if the symptoms all go away.

I stuck my fingertip in water and then in salt and ate that much one night. Didn't make a difference with the leg cramps and I'm not willing to stop the diet just yet.

Week Two:  I'm still getting leg cramps, but no headaches, thirst, or muscle pain. I'm feeling a little down, apathetic, and lethargic. I don't normally feel this way so maybe it's a by-product from lack of salt? It always amazes me how people don't trust their own body's clues. Most people would think they are just feeling down ignoring it could be a symptom of something else entirely. These days depression is erroneously considered a disease instead of a symptom and treated with drugs without questioning the cause.

I'm still not craving salt either, but I'm feeling inclined to eat butter! Years ago when I was salt-free I craved butter and although I bought unsalted butter, butter is naturally salty. The Hashimoto's diet doesn't allow dairy so butter isn't even on my radar (nor in my refrigerator), but I'm still thinking about it.

I don't know if food tastes better in general, but I know rice and eggs still aren't tasting as good as they did with salt. In fact, no matter how I prepare rice, it's just not good without salt. I've never liked rice.

Week Three: Leg cramps have nearly gone away. No longer feel horrible, but I don't feel better either which I had hoped might come from less iodine. No surprising amounts of energy or stamina. Still lethargic.

At the end of week three I went back to the hospital to get my blood pressure checked. No one was at the emergency reception desk. I waited. Again, as I have many times in the past, I exclaimed in the privacy of my head I am so glad I've never had a medical emergency while living in Rathole!  I was warned early when I first came to the edge of civilization, if something goes wrong, start driving in any direction out of town. It takes an hour to get to the next hospital and hopefully I won't die along the way. There is more than one reason I have no desire to stay and retire in Rathole.

I finally found a nurse at the nurse station at the far end of the hospital. She was sitting around with four other nurses gossiping. She took my blood pressure. 144/61.  REALLY? The diastolic went down slightly, but the systolic went up? I've never had such a high reading. I had read giving up salt can raise your blood pressure. Well, OK. I guess I'll just accept that I NEED salt and it'll probably make me feel better, too.

Then I went toilet paper shopping and on the way to squeeze the Charmin I passed one of those automatic blood pressure machines just outside their pharmacy. Hmmm...I went back. I've always been told these machines are notoriously inaccurate and are rarely calibrated, but what the hell? Not that I had any confidence in a hospital (known as a "temple of doom" by some) let alone the whole medical system, but if you can't get an accurate reading at a hospital, what is left? I don't have anything to lose. The reading at the grocery store was 113/53. The diastolic seems a little low, but that could be what is causing the lethargy.

Forget the readings. I'll trust myself and my symptoms before I'll trust a machine. I don't like feeling lethargic. Pardon me while I go eat some salt.

 

I feel so much better!

Made in...Bangladesh? Really??

'Tis the season to shop. I'm still searching for a non-toxic raincoat. Mine is now thirteen years old and far from waterproof. So much of everything is made in China and stinks because cheap means materials with toxic chemicals are used. I avoid buying anything from China, hence, I don't buy much. I'd so much rather buy American made even if it costs more, but finding American-made products is difficult.

Refusing to buy toxic products from China is a movement many have joined. I heard about this all last year from salespeople so I know I'm not alone. We are tired of low-quality merchandise created by slave labor. We prefer an un-outsourced production of good quality, all-American products. Well, some of us. Since a majority of Americans are stupid, the majority are still willing to shop at cheap stores that offer Chinese garbage which is why WalMart is still in business.

This year, again, I'm on the lookout for a new raincoat. Strange thing about this year is so few clothing labels are confessing their Chinese roots. Now clothing with American labels is made in Mexico, El Salvador, Honduras, India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh. Really? One has to wonder if the company shipped their worker-slaves to another country and re-shackled them to another factory? Or sold them to the highest bidder and found some new indentured slaves?

Or are they lying? Can they legally state the item is made in Bangladesh if they have an address there even if it's only where their accounting is outsourced? Or do they even care about label requirements? Who's going to check? Most consumers will read the label and not question the print. Not made in China! HOORAY! Let's buy two! And we all know label requirements are always monitored by the government, right? And the government always protects us, right? The FDA and USDA always does such an excellent job, right? Are these less-intolerable third world country locations just the latest sales gimmick?

MADE IN AMERICA! HOORAY!