Horizon Organics, Whole Foods, and an Awesome Dude Named Bill Smith

I guess I don’t need to retell you the whole (ha ha) story (you can check it out at Newsweek) but I felt the need to highlight it because it warmed my animal loving heart so much. Here it is in a nutshell:

Bill Smith, an investigator of dog breeders, recently discovered that a Pennsylvanian puppy mill (which had been allowing those poor creatures to live in heartbreaking conditions) was also running a dairy, supplying milk to Horizon Organics. Horizon, which touts itself as a producer of high quality, organic products was in turn, selling to Whole Foods, also a major do-gooder in the grocery realm.

Long story short, a Newsweek reporter caught wind of this and notified both Horizon and Whole Foods about her upcoming story on the matter. Subsequently, Horizon halted purchases from the farmer. (They resumed business when the farmer ceased the puppy mill biz). Through pressure from Smith, Whole Foods then informed all of its vendors that they were not to supply products if they came from farmers who were at all involved with any inhumane dog breeding/raising services. Of course, Horizon and Whole Foods could have sent an even stronger message to that farmer had they walked away from him completely. However, it's at least a significant step in the right direction.

I don’t know if you typically patronize Whole Foods (I don’t live near one so I seldom do) but this makes me want to run out and buy from them. I’m also so excited that consumers are inquiring more and more about where their milk/ produce/ sweatshirts/TV’s/etc come from. Who is supplying them? How are they made? Who is hurt in the process (people, animals, environment)? And how important is it for me to have this item, knowing (or not knowing) what I do about it? This is an area that I need to work on myself. It takes time and money to be a conscientious consumer. Yet, how wonderful to know that your choices can make a huge impact!

Look at Bill Smith. One person, making a stink created major waves which will hopefully lead to even further positive changes. Hooray! Thanks, Mr. Smith, for not only being a dog saving extraordinaire but also for reminding us that supporting the good guys and discouraging the bad guys really does matter.

One Curd Too Many...

Every single time I go back to Wisconsin, I go on a major food bender. Every...single....time. I completely lose control which is just ridiculous since normally, I maintain a pretty darn healthy (and mostly vegetarian) diet. Considering that I am quite content, sustaining myself on lots of bean stews, veggie stir fries, and fruits and nuts, you wouldn't think I would fall off the wagon so easily. Yet, when I go to the land of blue skies and cornfields, some switch apparently goes off in my head that turns me into a bottomless pit...a bottomless pit that craves nothing but fat and sugar. I think part of the problem is that my mom seems to prepare for an army when I come into town. (Oddly, I am not offended). The fridge will be teeming with cheeses, a variety of creamy dips, cold cuts, and of course, desserts, desserts, desserts!

Some friends roll their eyes when I tell them how hell breaks loose and I inhale the contents of my mom's kitchen for the entire trip. They look at my slim stature and assume I'm exaggerating. Dudes, I am NOT exaggerating. Ready?

Since Friday, I've eaten several turkey pastrami sandwiches, a load of cheese and crackers (it is Wisconsin), a lake perch fish fry (for those of you unfamiliar with this local Friday night tradition, this means a plate of deep fat fried perch, french fries, cole slaw, and rye bread), barbecued chicken, a burger from the grill, potato salad, chocolate chunk cookies, popcorn, raspberry cream torte, butter slathered corn on the cob, birthday cake with the requisite slab of vanilla ice cream on the side, potato chips, chocolate eclair torte (we like our tortes), and as if all that wasn't enough, the fam and I decided to grab a bite tonight at Kroll's.

Anyone from northeastern Wisconsin knows the institution that is Kroll's located across from Lambeau Field. They make THE BEST butter burgers, hands down, along with amazing chocolate malts and of course, deep fried cheese curd. After a day of chasing her 2-year-old niece around, this girl put away a burger (butter literally running down her arm) alongside some fries, curd, and a chocolate malt. I was full halfway through but the greasy goodness kept me going. I think I managed to thoroughly disgust and delight myself at the very same time.

I am now sitting on my sister's couch, moaning. There may be a some sort of juice cleanse in my very near future but damn, it was so worth it. I am in the Dairyland after all. I think Wisconsin would have been insulted had I not gotten my fill of rich creaminess.

Now if you will excuse me, I have to say a prayer for my arteries and get my butter butt to bed.

To Paint or Not to Paint?

I made a big(ish) decision this summer. No, it wasn’t to cut refined sugar from my diet. Or to meditate every day. Or to train for a marathon (hahahahahahahaha!) No, the big decision was, well…ready? For the first time in ten years, I told myself that I would not paint my toenails for the entire summer. (As I write this grand statement, I imagine a congratulatory fanfare of horns, streamers, and balloons). No? Okay then.

I do realize that this seems like a ridiculously lame “achievement”, especially to you cool gals who haven't surrendered to the pressure for years. I, too, had succeeded in getting through my teens and college without worrying about my nails. However, it all changed in my early 20s and I still remember the exact day. After being dumped and trying to get back into the dating game, my friend, Leah, offered to do my nails in preparation for a date with a new cute boy. She had lovely nails herself, I had to admit. She looked confident and sexy as she talked and waved her glossy, red, "I'm Not a Waitress" nails around. And when she filed, buffed, primed, and painted mine, I felt pretty sexy, too. During the summer that followed, I also began to notice that even if they ignored their fingernails, most women my age painted their toenails. It was like getting your hair trimmed. It was just a part of regular maintenance and I soon followed the trend. (Sigh).

Then last summer (my first in NYC), I got a little crazy with the maintenance. Next to the ridiculously put-together moms on the playground, I felt like I had no excuse for the chipped mess that had become my toenails.

But here’s the thing about it all:
1) Painting ones nails is a huge waste of time.
2) Most nail products are unnatural and therefore, bad for animals as well as for the environment. (Manicurists wearing masks?? Hello?!)
3) I’m not doing any favors for the feminist movement by succumbing to the pressure.

Now don’t me wrong. I’m no saint. I shave my legs religiously, have a penchant for pink streaked hair (not so eco-friendly, I confess) and rarely leave the house without wearing at least a bit of eyeliner. As much as I would like to, I am far too insecure to go au natural. However, I feel like any movement toward a more natural existence is in the best interests of my planet and my self-confidence. Therefore, I have bid auf wiedersehen to all of my nail polish (even my favorite green and blue!) and am quite enjoying my maintenance free summer.

I do understand, though, the desire for pretty toes. If you just can't give up the addiction, try to buy eco-friendly polish at Peacekeepers Causemetics (how can you not love that name?). Not only do they awesomely provide you with upfront information about the ingredients in their products, they donate proceeds from your purchases to various women centered charities. Check them out...they list all sorts of other great eco-minded sites, including one of my faves, www.cosmeticsdatabase.com which rates the hazard level of numerous beauty and cleansing products. Quite frightening to see the checked box next to "ingredients in this product are linked to cancer" but when it comes to my health, there is no such thing as too much information. Am I right?

Just When I Thought City Living Was For Me...

...I was reminded of how awesome it is to be a country girl.

Jill Jayne Rocks!

When I was a social worker, trying to assist children with a myriad of mental health diagnoses, I found a general attitude of indifference amongst both families and professionals when trying to discuss basic issues of healthy living: sleep, nutrition, and exercise. My clients, along with their doctors and teachers, were often more fixated on obtaining prescriptions for psychotropic drugs than experimenting with a child’s diet, sleep, or activity schedule. I was often dumbfounded by the way some people made their children’s problems so much more complicated than they needed to be. Don’t get me wrong. I am NOT minimizing the very real emotional and behavioral disorders of which many children suffer; however, I believe that there are often small steps we can take to assist in changing a child’s problem behavior. For example, if kids were not allowed a steady stream of sugary sodas or an ungodly amount of unnatural preservatives and were actually encouraged to eat vegetables and fruits while getting outside with a bat and ball once in a while, we would not have the current epidemic of obesity and mental health diagnoses on our hands. I am convinced.

Because of my history in the trenches of poor health, I am ridiculously happy every time a new program that promotes healthy choices is launched. And I am thrilled to learn that Jill Jayne, Rockstar Nutritionist, is delivering her message via her awesome nutrition program, Note to Health. Jill's background as a registered dietitian along with her skills as a singer-songwriter has resulted in a highly entertaining, touring show, Jump with Jill. Jill tours schools and performs her wildly upbeat, toe tapping tunes, engaging students one song after another.

I encourage you to check out her blog with video clips of her work...you can't help but smile. How refreshing to see such a positive message touted in school gymnasiums! And the kids are so engaged! Perhaps your kid's school would be interested, too. ..

The Empire Strikes Out!

Fact: Rachael lovessssssssss any reason to go to a spa or salon. It can be for a haircut, color, a manicure, even waxing (well, not that kind of waxing!) My point is, it doesn't have to be a big to do. I just love the act of being pampered in any teeny, tiny way. For example, when my yoga instructor recently applied a bit of pressure to the small of my back, pushing me into the right position, I almost turned into a little puddle of ecstasy. (Wow, I really do need a date.) Anyway, massaging my scalp during a shampoo, pumicing my feet, or sprucing up the eyebrows is a pretty small way to bring me great joy. Sheesh, we all need a bit of pampering now and then, no?

Even scheduling a haircut appointment (and looking forward to the nice accompanying scalp massage) is exciting to me. I had been going to the Aveda Institute but the last student kinda screwed me over with an uneven cut which management then refused to refund. (Boo, Aveda!!) I went to a real deal salon afterward and got a fabulous cut but almost had a panic attack on my way home, thinking about how my haircut just cost me half a day's wage.

So, I decided to try the beauty school route again. This time, I went to Empire Beauty School (as advertised in "Time Out New York"). I admit that I was a bit nervous about getting a $9 haircut but they emphasized in their ad that instructors closely guide their students. Why I decided to go this route since the Aveda Institute touted the same thing is beyond me.

Anyway, I went to the Bensonhurst school since it is in close proximity to my own Brooklyn neighborhood; yet it felt like a much grimier world just a few blocks over. I'm sure there are lovely pockets but when I turned onto 86th Street and saw a group of student cosmetologists outside smoking (and seemingly proud of it), I started to get nervous.

And then I walked inside.

I was flooded with a mix of memories: high school, the Pink Ladies, an entire scene from "West Side Story", a past waitressing job where my uneducated pregnant coworkers talked endlessly about how much they drank and how many times they got laid in the back of Billy's Dodge Ram. Gum smacking girls. LOUD girls. But the disgust I felt for this scene was overidden by my unsolicited fear of the situation. I looked around and felt like any one of these girls could so kick my ass if I didn't bum them a smoke or give them my lunch money.

Then "Cara" approached me and in fact, did not try to bully money or cigarettes from me. Rather, she simply informed me that she would be cutting my hair. She was not exactly friendly but she was pleasant enough and surprisingly professional. And she was not smacking any sort of gum. However, as soon as I told her what I wanted (a basic clean up of my chin length bob), she panicked and asked her instructor to take over. The instructor was very personable and happy to take charge. After answering several questions about what exactly I wanted, I gave her a photo from a magazine for further illustration. Then I sat back and relaxed, feeling a bit smug that for $9, I was getting a professional cut after all. I listened to her chatter to Cara about how glad she was that it was almost the end of the day. She couldn't wait to get out of there and start her vacation! She was snipping so quickly...

I WILL NEVER GET A $9 HAIRCUT AGAIN!!!!!! I pride myself on never becoming upset about haircuts because well, it's hair. It will grow back. But this cut truly almost made me cry. She cut off way more than I had anticipated and hardly angled or stacked it at all! I was instantly transported to my 4th grade picture, in which my bowlish cut certainly did not flatter my soft, round face. She had cut it so bluntly! I couldn't believe that to her, I was now similar to the exotic brunette in the magazine with all of her lovely layers!

I made her angle it a bit more but she had botched my hair line so badly that it really didn't matter. She had no business doling out bobs! I hurriedly grabbed my things and stupidly tipped her. Then, for the first time in my life, I ran to the nearest salon in my neighborhood and begged the first stylist I saw to "PLEASE FIX THIS!" I couldn't even fathom leaving the house the next day with this little girl haircut. I would need to find my cache of culottes and jelly shoes first.

The gals from Carissa Salon on 5th Avenue are now my best friends. As the owner of the salon quietly swept and counted the till, my very polite, non-fear inducing stylist snipped away, her brows furrowed in deep concentration. She agreed, in her thick Russian accent, that the other stylist had done quite a number on me and that there was only so much she could do to fix it. Upon seeing my crestfallen expression, she pleasantly reminded me that it would soon grow to a length that she could more easily work with. When she was finished and I saw that she had created some layers, I could breathe again. I, at least, no longer felt like a 6-year-old.

When it was time to pay, the owner politely asked me for a measley $10. Genuinely touched by their sweetness toward this hysterical girl, clutching a magazine clipping, I held myself back from leaping over the counter and planting a big wet one on her cheek. The owner then pointed to the stylist and informed me, "Her name is Michele. You can come back?"

I shook my head vigorously. You bet I'll be back! As for the Empire Beauty School, I do realize that there are probably talented students and instructors working there. I just happened to get the one who was too busy thinking about her upcoming vacation. May she drink the dirty water!

Now let me return to my happy thoughts. My plug: Carissa Beauty Salon, 7725 5th Avenue, Brooklyn (718) 748-7777. Check 'em out!

They still call us "Yanks", too

My sister and I received this email this morning from our UK friends...

To Rachael & Jodi - dear friends and citizens of the former English colony (sorry couldn't resist)

Happy 4th of July - have a wonderful day!