Regarding my Herbal Essences shampoo, and how it might be slowly ending my life

The other day I was very casually browsing the internet - I've learned to very casually browse the internet since any meaningful or intense browsing noramally leads me to believe I'm dying of cancer - when I stumbled upon this site called Skin Deep, developed by something called the Environmental Working Group. Now, I don't know who this Environmental Working Group is, or whether I should listen to them, but on this Skin Deep site (see where even a casual internet search for cosmetics leads you?) you can type in any sort of personal product and learn all about the product, and how it is rated by these environmental people, i.e. is my Clinique Superdefense going to kill me?

Ok, alright. I know this is where I tend to get melodramatic and I should calm down, but I should never EVER be told these sorts of things - sorts of things, for example, like that some personal products we use over and over again might be building up in our bodies and over time harming our health. I know perfectly well you have to take information like this in moderation, and I really do try in many aspects of life. I, for instance, like to know where most of my meat and produce comes from. Because, hey, I've seen those chicken trucks hauling crates full of unhappy chickens, and that's disgusting. But also because when I think about my world, I like to think about happy animals, and also happy people that care for them and get paid a decent wage. And happy people, instead of, say, blind orphans, making my clothes. Stuff like that. But if you really, really start to investigate, it's hard to live your life this way and never be a hypocrite. Sometimes I really want a new H&M shirt, and it costs $8, and it doesn't take a rocket scientist to realize that some pretty cheap labor may have been involved.

Anyway, I brought the issue of all the chemicals we are exposed to every day up to a bunch of my close girl friends who I email with very regularly, and my friend Lisa sent us a link to the following National Geographic article, in which a reporter had his body analyzed for a variety of chemicals and was unpleasantly surprised to find out how many showed up, and in big quantities, too. This, naturally, added to my fear.

Believe me, I can really go off the deep end with this sort of thing. Luckily I usually reel myself back in on my own, and within a couple hours of getting all worked up. That's partly because I have a pretty short attention span, but more importantly, it's because I realize that the line between "concerned" and "totally fucking crazy" is very, very thin. And I don't want my husband to come home one day to find me dressed in all natural burlap eating organic bananas and constructing a bomb shelter. Plus, every once in a while, I really enjoy wandering into Bath and Body Works to check out what amazing new synthetic fragrances they've got in there and I don't see myself ever getting to the point where I don't find that kind of thing relaxing.

What I will do, maybe, is try and use a little less. That's exactly what these environmental watchdog people advise, and I think it's reasonable. Try not, for example, to use 45 million products in one day, because you know what? You don't need that many. And if all that comes out of this little bit of sensible advice is that I spend less money a year on things like cuticle cream, well, that's good. And if I end up not dying from my really excellent smelling coconut-scented shampoo, well, that's good too.

Excuses, excuses

I realize I've neglected my blog over the past week. I've been too busy to post for the most part, which is really saying a lot because if you read this thing, you know that I am rarely too busy to post a simple blog entry. But somehow, finally, I managed to get pretty busy and in the midst of it all, I decided to visit my grandmother this weekend. She recently had surgery and has been staying in a rehabilitation facility in New Jersey, near my aunt. I came up with this perfect plan. I'd drive up to visit my friend Sara, who lives in Media, PA - just outside Philly - Friday night, drive to New Jersey the next day, drive back to see my parents in D.C. Sunday night, and then be back home in Chapel Hill Monday morning.

However, as trips often do, this one didn't go exactly as expected. I'll spare you full disclosure for the sake of your time, and because I don't want you all to think I'm a wimp, but basically, in the span of 48 hours, I encounted the worst road conditions I'd ever seen in my life (and thus suffered through a very terrifying ice-storm-related driving experience for many, many hours), saw some good friends, drank lots of wine, got violently sick, spent quality time in a rehab facility, had my tire slashed (or, had a deer, with antlers, run headfirst into my tire, who knows), waited hours upon end to get it fixed, and eventually made it home.

The thing is, of course, most of the weekend - getting to see my good friends and family - was absolutely wonderful and I'm glad I went. I'm simply explaining the recent dearth of online writing, just in case any of you were wondering what in the name of God were going on, as I know so many of you, one or two at least, check this blog every day, and I like to deliver.

To make it up to you, I promise some decent posts in the near future. I don't foresee holding to that promise being a problem because J, with the advent of this spring-like weather, has been getting very into birds again, pointing out the species that alight on the feeder outside our living room window with the enthusiasm of a three-year-old who's just gotten into some fingerpaints, and I assure you, that, alone, is enough to fill a few pages.