As I sit at my desk in Helena, Montana, the scene outside my office window is right off of a Currier and Ives Christmas card. The prevalent color is white, from sky to trees to roofs to road and everything in between. A pile of wrapped gifts sits on the floor next to me, waiting for just a few more things to arrive in the mail before they are sent off to children and grandchildren next week.
Planning for, shopping for and creating gifts are a big part of my December celebration, but holiday shopping can be particularly problematic for people with chemical sensitivities. Though I'm a strong advocate of shopping locally, much of this years gifts have been purchased online. When I have ventured into a local store, it's been first thing in the morning on a week day, and many stores I avoid all together due to those evil scented pine cones that so many of them carry this time of year.
Needless to say, none of the gifts I've purchased this year have any scent. However, I have tried to go beyond just "unscented," looking for items that are useful, needed and as non-toxic as possible. I've not been 100% successful, and I'm certainly not pointing to myself as the best example, but here are some of the gifts I'm giving this year (without being too specific so as to maintain an element of surprise).
Piggy Paint "Natural as Mud" non-toxic nail polish & remover, for the five-year-old granddaughter who just has to have her toenails painted.
Glass mixing & storage bowls for a new homeowner (she's already received them--just couldn't wait).
Organic cotton pajamas for the little ones.
Natural nuts in interesting bottles I've gathered, for the neighbors.
Organic free-trade chocolate, for the chocoholics in the family.
Cotton towels.
Several hand-crocheted hats, scarves and a pink sweater.
Doll clothes made from leftover cotton scraps.
Olive oil lamps (from Lehmans )
Homemade certificates for childcare services. (I got the templates from Microsoft online.)
Pottery from a local studio.
A sewing kit and embroidery kit (for two grandchildren) made up of several things from my own sewing basket.
Items purchased from the Great Old Broads for Wilderness fall auction.
And last, but definitely not least, books.
Books are a problem, because most of them really aren't non-toxic or very eco-friendly. However, I just can't NOT give books. So I compromise (somewhat). Several books I'm giving this year were purchased used, and most of the new ones are paper bound. [Unless they're hand-bound, hardbound books take more natural resources to produce and use more glue (nasty-nasty) than paper bound.] And all of the books are ones that I believe will be kept and treasured for years, not just looked at and left to gather dust.
Though I'm pretty much finished with shopping for this year, I'd love to have more ideas to add to my file for next year.
Happy gifting!
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Accepting MCS and other Chronic Illness
Carefully folded into each of the almost-100 cards sitting on my desk and waiting to be mailed is our annual family Christmas letter. It's no secret that I like to write, and what could be better than writing about my own family? This year I've also mentioned the success we've had in working toward fragrance-free church buildings. MCS is so much a part of my life it makes sense to mention it in this letter. However, I did hesitate, because bringing up the subject will likely solicit the response of some well-meaning friend or family member who has heard of some miracle cure for all my ills. I understand the love and concern that comes with these recommendations, but I still don't appreciate them.
Those who know me know that I am no fan of medical doctors, and I am always open to new ideas for improved health and well-being. However, I will be forever indebted to the doctor who, eleven years ago, gave an honest reply to my question, "When will I be completely better?" Looking me directly in the eyes, but with a note of sadness in his voice, he explained that I would never be "completely better," that I had incurred permanent damage to organs and body systems (particularly my adrenal glands). Anyone with chronic illness knows the sobering feelings and thoughts that were mine that day and in the days to come. Yet, there came a time, not long afterwards, that I decided to accept what I couldn't change and work on what I could. That was a turning point for me.
Some make the accusation that accepting illness is giving up hope, but I would contend that it is quite to the contrary. By focusing on the things I can change (like diet, exercise and daily schedule) and accepting the things I cannot, I open myself up to hope for a life that can be full and sustaining, albeit different from the norm. By appreciating the things I do have (like supporting family members, a safe home and productive work I can do at my own pace) and putting aside what I have lost, I can move forward and enjoy my new life one day at a time.
There is a wonderful article on The Canary Report today about "The false promise of miracle cures for MCS," including ten characteristics of false cures for any illness. I wholeheartedly agree with the authors that such "cures" are a waste of our precious time and energy. I prefer to use what little residual energy I have on education and activism to lower the amount of chemicals in the environment and make the world, even if it's just my little corner of it, safer for everyone.
Those who know me know that I am no fan of medical doctors, and I am always open to new ideas for improved health and well-being. However, I will be forever indebted to the doctor who, eleven years ago, gave an honest reply to my question, "When will I be completely better?" Looking me directly in the eyes, but with a note of sadness in his voice, he explained that I would never be "completely better," that I had incurred permanent damage to organs and body systems (particularly my adrenal glands). Anyone with chronic illness knows the sobering feelings and thoughts that were mine that day and in the days to come. Yet, there came a time, not long afterwards, that I decided to accept what I couldn't change and work on what I could. That was a turning point for me.
Some make the accusation that accepting illness is giving up hope, but I would contend that it is quite to the contrary. By focusing on the things I can change (like diet, exercise and daily schedule) and accepting the things I cannot, I open myself up to hope for a life that can be full and sustaining, albeit different from the norm. By appreciating the things I do have (like supporting family members, a safe home and productive work I can do at my own pace) and putting aside what I have lost, I can move forward and enjoy my new life one day at a time.
There is a wonderful article on The Canary Report today about "The false promise of miracle cures for MCS," including ten characteristics of false cures for any illness. I wholeheartedly agree with the authors that such "cures" are a waste of our precious time and energy. I prefer to use what little residual energy I have on education and activism to lower the amount of chemicals in the environment and make the world, even if it's just my little corner of it, safer for everyone.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Macy's
I received a phone call yesterday from a person in the circulation department of our local newspaper, informing me that the Macy's advertising insert for Thanksgiving Day would be scented. She had already spoken with our paper carrier and they had tried to figure out a way to get a paper to us sans Macy's insert. However, there was some concern that they would either forget or the other papers would contaminate ours, so we decided to just cancel our paper delivery for that day.
Believe it or not, I used to shop at Macy's occasionally (holding my breath as I ran past the cosmetic counter). They have some great sales. However, I quit going in there and had my name removed from their mailing list some time ago, after receiving a scented ad in the mail. Now I can say that I am really done with Macy's, and I sent them an email to that effect. I also gave them a few statistics about the prevalence of chemical sensitivity in the general population (an estimated 1 in 16) and the danger to the asthmatic population that perfumes and other scented products present.
If anyone else has an interest in writing to Macy's, they can be reached at the following addresses (not found on their website):
email: customerservice@macys.com
phone: 1-800-289-6229
snail mail: Macy's Customer Service
PO Box 8215
Mason, OH 45040
Their corporate offices are located at:
685 Market Street
San Francisco, CA 94105
Happy Thanksgiving to everyone. Enjoy the turkey, but skip the newspaper ads.
Believe it or not, I used to shop at Macy's occasionally (holding my breath as I ran past the cosmetic counter). They have some great sales. However, I quit going in there and had my name removed from their mailing list some time ago, after receiving a scented ad in the mail. Now I can say that I am really done with Macy's, and I sent them an email to that effect. I also gave them a few statistics about the prevalence of chemical sensitivity in the general population (an estimated 1 in 16) and the danger to the asthmatic population that perfumes and other scented products present.
If anyone else has an interest in writing to Macy's, they can be reached at the following addresses (not found on their website):
email: customerservice@macys.com
phone: 1-800-289-6229
snail mail: Macy's Customer Service
PO Box 8215
Mason, OH 45040
Their corporate offices are located at:
685 Market Street
San Francisco, CA 94105
Happy Thanksgiving to everyone. Enjoy the turkey, but skip the newspaper ads.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Signs (an update)
Some time ago I mentioned in a post that we had been given permission to put up permanent signs in our church buildings. Well, happy day! The signs are up!
On each entry (glass door) to every building (a total of twenty doors in five buildings) are posted the following words:
These door signs are made of vinyl lettering attached directly to the glass.
In addition, the larger four buildings have interior signs at the doors to the back of the chapel areas. These signs read as follows:
The outside door signs (vinyl lettering) were purchased locally from a vinyl sign business. The interior signs were ordered and sent to us from LDS Church headquarters in Salt Lake City, Utah. They were made to match the other interior signs in specific buildings, and they look official. The goal is to have all of our buildings entirely fragrance-free, but we don't want to turn anyone away. Thus the wording of the interior signs.
I have been asked what we had to do to get these signs. The first step was to get the local church leaders (stake presidency and bishops, the lay clergy) on board. Then we needed the okay of the Facilities Management (FM) people (Church employees) , who were not initially in favor of permanent signs. It was only after I wrote a letter to the FM office in Salt Lake City, outlining the need for these signs and the support of local leaders, that we received permission to put them up. If you have local leaders who are willing to have signs in your buildings, I would recommend having these leaders contact your regional FM director or your regional DTA (Director of Temporal Affairs). Please feel free to site the Helena Montana Stake as an example of how this has been done. My husband (who is a member of our stake presidency) and I would be happy to give anyone more detailed information about the ongoing goal of the Helena Montana Stake to make all our buildings fragrance free. We can be reached by email at wheelpub (at) mt (dot) net.
On each entry (glass door) to every building (a total of twenty doors in five buildings) are posted the following words:
Welcome
Our goal is to provide a fragrance-free environment
for everyone. In love and respect for others, please
refrain from using scented products on days you
come to Church.
"Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it
unto one of the least of these...ye have done it unto
me." [Matthew 25:40]
These door signs are made of vinyl lettering attached directly to the glass.
In addition, the larger four buildings have interior signs at the doors to the back of the chapel areas. These signs read as follows:
To enable those who are chemically sensitive to attend church, the overflow area of the chapel has been designated as a fragrance-free zone. If you are wearing a scented product of any kind, please be sure to sit in another part of the chapel.
The outside door signs (vinyl lettering) were purchased locally from a vinyl sign business. The interior signs were ordered and sent to us from LDS Church headquarters in Salt Lake City, Utah. They were made to match the other interior signs in specific buildings, and they look official. The goal is to have all of our buildings entirely fragrance-free, but we don't want to turn anyone away. Thus the wording of the interior signs.
I have been asked what we had to do to get these signs. The first step was to get the local church leaders (stake presidency and bishops, the lay clergy) on board. Then we needed the okay of the Facilities Management (FM) people (Church employees) , who were not initially in favor of permanent signs. It was only after I wrote a letter to the FM office in Salt Lake City, outlining the need for these signs and the support of local leaders, that we received permission to put them up. If you have local leaders who are willing to have signs in your buildings, I would recommend having these leaders contact your regional FM director or your regional DTA (Director of Temporal Affairs). Please feel free to site the Helena Montana Stake as an example of how this has been done. My husband (who is a member of our stake presidency) and I would be happy to give anyone more detailed information about the ongoing goal of the Helena Montana Stake to make all our buildings fragrance free. We can be reached by email at wheelpub (at) mt (dot) net.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Home Again
Well, it's done. My house has been torn apart and put back together again, and I can finally say that overall, it was a successful project. The main objective was to rid the house of the mold in the walls and the sub-flooring. This was accomplished, and my worst fear (that I wouldn't be able to live in the house once it was done) has NOT been realized.That doesn't mean it's been an easy month and a half. Like all projects, it took a little longer than anticipated. I am fortunate to have a daughter and her husband (and two adorable grandsons) who tolerated me sleeping on their couch for several weeks. They kept me busy and distracted me when construction frustrations reached a breaking point, which was often. And thank goodness for a phone that made it possible for me to be in constant contact with the project manager and my husband Randl (who was trying to live and work in the house through it all).
So here are some of the things we learned in the process (listed in no particular order):
--When you're the one paying the bills, you get to call the shots (regardless of what the "expert" builders think).
--A contractor is only as good as his sub-contractors.
--There are MANY chemically safe or safer building products available. You just have to go looking for them.
--Sub-contractors don't like to go looking for building materials or use materials with which they are unfamiliar.
--Don't assume someone understands your point of view. Explain, explain, explain!
--The best project manager in the U.S. (possibly in the world) is right here in Helena, Montana. His name is Mark.
--Painters march to the beat of their own drummers (and they're in a different parade than mine).
--Ceramic tile is relatively inexpensive but very practical, not to mention beautiful (especially when installed well).
--Glass tile is VERY expensive, but one little row of it can turn an otherwise blah room into a private spa (well, almost).
--A second shower in the house is a good thing.
--Covering the bathroom window with only a half-curtain lets the sunshine in and, combined with yellow walls, cheers the soul, even on a cold Montana morning.
There was still some odor from the building products when I came home, so we ran the air purifier and the three new fans around the clock for a week or so. But all I can smell today is the pumpkin from our garden cooking in the steamers on the stove. As soon as I get my new hall closet doors up, the whole project will really be finished. It's time to move on.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Keeping House
Today marks fourteen days and counting before we begin our bathroom/laundry room remodeling project. This is one of those projects which started with just replacing the shower faucet and snowballed into a major house renovation that could give nightmares to even the calmest soul (which I am not). Between researching safe building products, choosing paint colors and arranging financing, I have spent untold hours on this project already, and we haven't even begun to tear out walls. Ironically, the strain of trying to make the project as chemically-free and healthy as possible is starting to take a toll on my health and I find myself right on the edge, physically and emotionally. Perhaps my biggest obstacle right now is my own fear.
But then, this is nothing new. I have a long history of taking on projects that seem like a good idea initially but ultimately scare me half to death. Just such another project culminated three weeks ago when I received the final printed copies of the book about my pioneer grandmothers which I started researching more than ten years ago. It's title, Not Just Keeping House, refers to the old census records in which the occupation most often listed for women is "keeping house." Such a description conjures up women in long skirts and aprons sweeping and scrubbing and fixing meals. While my ancestral mothers certainly did these things, that's hardly a description of ALL that they did.
When I woke up this morning, after yet another night of fretful dreams about bathroom sinks and painters that couldn't seem to get the color right, I realized that "keeping house" is exactly what I'm trying to do, but maybe not in the same sense that my grandmothers did. I'm trying to keep my house safe and healthy for me and my family. At the same time, I'm trying to keep it attractive and comfortable (even a bathroom should make you feel welcome). Perhaps most importantly, I'm trying to keep it all together as a whole--a place to live and love and just be. Sounds simple, right? Not so much, unfortunately.
But, like most other projects I've started with trepidation, it will come together and I will get my house (and my life) back, such as it is. In the meantime, nothing will be normal, and some regular activities (like blogging) may get pushed aside. But, never fear, I'll be back, and I'll have a LOT to say.
[BTW, if anyone is interested in the new book, you can see it and other great works :^) at wheelwrightpublishing.com.]
But then, this is nothing new. I have a long history of taking on projects that seem like a good idea initially but ultimately scare me half to death. Just such another project culminated three weeks ago when I received the final printed copies of the book about my pioneer grandmothers which I started researching more than ten years ago. It's title, Not Just Keeping House, refers to the old census records in which the occupation most often listed for women is "keeping house." Such a description conjures up women in long skirts and aprons sweeping and scrubbing and fixing meals. While my ancestral mothers certainly did these things, that's hardly a description of ALL that they did.
When I woke up this morning, after yet another night of fretful dreams about bathroom sinks and painters that couldn't seem to get the color right, I realized that "keeping house" is exactly what I'm trying to do, but maybe not in the same sense that my grandmothers did. I'm trying to keep my house safe and healthy for me and my family. At the same time, I'm trying to keep it attractive and comfortable (even a bathroom should make you feel welcome). Perhaps most importantly, I'm trying to keep it all together as a whole--a place to live and love and just be. Sounds simple, right? Not so much, unfortunately.
But, like most other projects I've started with trepidation, it will come together and I will get my house (and my life) back, such as it is. In the meantime, nothing will be normal, and some regular activities (like blogging) may get pushed aside. But, never fear, I'll be back, and I'll have a LOT to say.
[BTW, if anyone is interested in the new book, you can see it and other great works :^) at wheelwrightpublishing.com.]
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Not-so-far-away friends
I've been feeling pretty down the past few days. It was nice to be at my sister's cabin for a few days last week, enjoying the fresh mountain air, but on the drive back all I could think about was the mountain of work I have to do to get ready to leave again in a few weeks when our remodel project starts. Then, I'd only been home a few days when I found mold on one of the bathroom walls we weren't planning to take out. Ughhh! I hate that stuff! Black, slimy, gooey, yucky. . .
So here I was tonight, sitting at my computer, trying to get some work done before our weekend company arrives, feeling sorry for myself and more than a little overwhelmed, when up pops an email from my friend Celia in Wisconsin. Now, I've never actually met Celia, only through email, but I feel like I've known her forever. Accompanying her email were pictures of a family wedding--happy smiling faces of people she loves. It was just what I needed to pull me out of my blue funk.
MCS is such a lonely, isolating disease. It's easy to get depressed and believe that no one cares. But this magical mysterious thing called the internet connects us through cyberspace with people in all parts of the world. I may not have many friends right here in Helena, Montana, but I do have friends in far-away places like Wisconsin, Arizona, Oklahoma, Idaho, Utah, Washington, Hawaii, Canada and even India. They are as close as my desk or my laptop computer (which goes everywhere with me).
Thanks and (cyber)hugs to all of you, my not-so-far-away friends.
So here I was tonight, sitting at my computer, trying to get some work done before our weekend company arrives, feeling sorry for myself and more than a little overwhelmed, when up pops an email from my friend Celia in Wisconsin. Now, I've never actually met Celia, only through email, but I feel like I've known her forever. Accompanying her email were pictures of a family wedding--happy smiling faces of people she loves. It was just what I needed to pull me out of my blue funk.
MCS is such a lonely, isolating disease. It's easy to get depressed and believe that no one cares. But this magical mysterious thing called the internet connects us through cyberspace with people in all parts of the world. I may not have many friends right here in Helena, Montana, but I do have friends in far-away places like Wisconsin, Arizona, Oklahoma, Idaho, Utah, Washington, Hawaii, Canada and even India. They are as close as my desk or my laptop computer (which goes everywhere with me).
Thanks and (cyber)hugs to all of you, my not-so-far-away friends.
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