Friday, April 3, 2009

Poisons on Pets: Health Hazards from Flea and Tick Products

Cats are the ultimate narcissists. You can tell this by all the time they spend on personal grooming. Dogs aren't like this. A dog's idea of personal grooming is to roll in a dead fish. ~James Gorman

I was catching up on one of my favorite blogs, The Good Human and found this post about Toxic Chemicals Found in Flea Control products. I knew the stuff was gnarly, but somehow put it out of my mind. It was with great trepidation that I opened the link to Green Paws , a site by the National Resources Defense Council (NRDC) and looked at their Product Guide. I was relieved to learn that the flea/tick protection I use on Baloo, Frontline Plus, is not in the most toxic category. It is not ideal, by any means. But he's 11 years old, has ehrlichiosis (a debilitating, recurring tick-born disease), and loves to be outside, especially in the summer - playing with the kids, swimming in the ponds, and rolling in dead things. Frontline Plus protects him from the zillions of ticks, and in the end keeps him healthier.


A delighted Cole and a very patient Fionn.

Cats

There is, incidentally, no way of talking about cats that enables one to come off as a sane person. -~Dan Greenberg

We don't put any sort of flea/tick preventative on Fionn MacCool - he's an indoor cat, and doesn't seem to be troubled by fleas. Another thing that helps is that we brush him almost daily, spring though fall. Not only does he love it, but this keeps our house from becoming a hair farm and lets us see if there are fleas.

Perusing the Product Guide I was horrified by just how many products are toxic to cats. Anything with Permethrin (causing muscle tremors, seizures, salivation, vomiting and even death) or Pyrethins (signs of pyrethin poisoning may include coughing, wheezing, shortness of breath, runny or stuffy nose, chest pain or difficulty breathing) should not be used.

Do NOT use essential oils on cats - no Pennyroyal, Tea Tree, Citronella, Eucalyptus, Lavender, Geranium or Rue Oil. It is toxic, and can kill them.

Do NOT use flea collars intended for dogs on cats.

To learn more, please see the Green Paws Toxic Fact Sheet

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

City Mouse vs. Country Mouse

No, not a new bouffant 'do, just a slept-upon set of bangs and a comfortable but non-glamourous pony tail. Not enough sleep, either. They're doing construction on the room upstairs; they start at 6:30 a.m. and don't stop until I call and yell at 8:30 p.m. Go figure!



Gloria Steinem said, "Writing is the only thing that, when I do it, I don't feel I should be doing something else."

But of course right now this minute I need to dash out of the hotel and get my buns down to Union Station.

It's been interesting to be back in the city again. I had forgotten just how overwhelming it is to be here, how all of one's senses are bombarded all day long. Some of the bombarding is a pleasure - aromas from fresh brewed coffee, a pizza place or Indian restaurant as I stroll by. But after awhile it all seems like TOO MUCH!

I'm headed back to my little house on the prairie, where I can tell that spring is coming by the bits of green popping up through last year's brown grass, the return of the peepers, and the randiness of the robins. Soon, the male goldfinches will turn from drab gray to bright yellow, the forsythia will bloom, and then the violets and morels.

At night, I can look at the stars, all ten zillion of them. My view here is lovely - from the 21st floor I can see Lake Michigan, the river, and lots of cool buildings. But it's time to go home.

I'll write more when I get there - so much to tell!


Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Dancing Rabbit Revolution

The final three-day section of our annual retreat ended last Sunday (whew!), smack dab in the middle of a discussion of Goals and Priorities. That evening a group of us gathered to watch HBO’s miniseries “John Adams” (via NetFlix). I found the contrast between the two both interesting and just a tad ironic.


Perhaps it is the way that history was presented to me, or perhaps it is just the way I took it in. But when I originally learned about the colonies making the break from King George and England it all seemed rather dry and, well, not such a big deal. The revolution came across more like: let’s throw some tea off a ship, meet in Philadelphia, write a really cool document and sign our names in big letters. “Revolution” was just a song by the Beatles.


What I’m beginning to understand is that the founding fathers (and the many women, who, though behind the scenes, were incredibly influential and important) were literally risking their lives in order to fulfill their dreams of a better way of government and a better way of life.Am I comparing the founding of Dancing Rabbit to the founding of the United States? Well, perhaps, but only in the most superficial way. What we’re doing here at Dancing Rabbit is neither life-threatening nor treasonous, and it doesn’t involve breaking any laws. I’ve certainly never felt as eloquent as Thomas Jefferson or Thomas Paine while crafting a proposal to present to the group. We are, however, making a huge values-shift from “the American Dream,” are utilizing ecological principles, and prioritizing goals other than “bigger is better.”


Which brings us right back to Dancing Rabbit’s 2009 Goals and Priorities. The G&P topic has been an ongoing process, and over the years we’ve tried various ways to approach it. By setting Goals and Priorities as a group, we are agreeing (by consensus) to put our energy and focus towards these issues. Here are some examples of what we’re probably going to tackle in 2009: revamping The March Hare, our quarterly newletter; building roads on Main Street and West Road, alloting time to handle a crisis, because one invariably arises; nurturing the thousands of trees that we have planted in our CRP bottomland; and support of a conflict resolution committee. When combining those tasks with the myriad of other tasks involved in daily living – building/maintaining a house, planting and harvesting a garden, rasing children, earning a living, maintaining relationships with friends and loved ones – the list seems almost reasonable and do-able.


Unfortunately, that is only a smidgen of what is proposed to be on our plate this coming year. There are also the items (website overhaul; village-wide graywater; a design of the DR entrance and parking area; preparing for media exposure; and putting together a building committee) that have only limited support. No one is saying that they aren’t important; however, we’re all spread pretty thin.


And then there are the items that we would dearly love to consider but simply have neither the time or energy for: visitor housing; a constitutional convention to make sure all of our founding documents are in order and support each other; a more vibrant visitor program; a better way to handle our landfill trash; and viable alternatives to biodiesel.


Being an idealist has never been an easy task. I take comfort in knowing that it took two long years (1774-1776) of meeting, discussing, trust-building and compromising for the Continental Congress to create the Declaration of Independence – after that they still had a war to fight. Here at Dancing Rabbit we will continue our meetings; our “war” is, thankfully, non-violent and largely idealogical. We will continue to live our lives the best ways we know how, as lightly as possible, and to share what we’ve learned with others. If you’d like to join us, please do – we’ve got a seat waiting for you in our next meeting!

Thursday, February 19, 2009

My First Haiku - Thanks Operation Nice!

Melissa over at Operation Nice is having a contest - she's giving away a lovely teacup with a tea-inspired haiku inscribed on the side.

Inspired, I decided to write my first haiku. However, Baloo has other ideas. My (haiku) future's so bright, I have to wear shades!


I dream of haiku
but the dog stares, relentless
"take me outside, NOW"

Monday, February 16, 2009

Dancing Rabbit: Demonstrating Daily That Change is Possible

Currently appearing in the February issue of Prairie Fire: The Progressive Voice of the Great Plains is an article on Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage. Read it by clicking here.





(Baloo remains unimpressed)

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Today's Decision: Drive a Hummer or Surf Facebook (see #29)

Photo Credit: Huey2006 on Flickr


So today Sparky left for an extended trip west. Not only will we (me, Kurt, Baloo and Fionn) miss her, her comments and her insights, I will also miss her help. She is really the one who keeps this household running while Kurt builds the Mercantile and I run around like a, uh, crazy woman with no impulse control or a to-do list. By the time I had one brief meeting with Innkeeper Amy and washed the dishes, it was 3:00 p.m. So I gave up, and went surfing on Facebook.

I don't really like Facebook. It seems vaguely creepy, and voyeuristic, and kind of, well, icky. Why not just email your friends directly, or better yet, call them? Or if they are here at Dancing Rabbit, how about walking 20 yards for a face-to-face? I feel like I shouldn't be reading the comments to posts - shouldn't they be private? Facebook offends my delicate sensibilities.

But I'm hooked. I can't stay away. Like watching a train wreck or an interpersonal mediation gone horribly awry, I keep peeking between the fingers covering my eyes. And after reading several of the (very cleverly done) "25 Things" by friends, I decided to try it myself. Way back at the back of the curve (the New York Times did a story on 2/4) I am leaping in just as the wave is leaving the shore for parts unknown.

So, without further ado, 25 oh-so-fascinating Random Things about Moi.

1. My parents met at a club for tall people called Golden Gate Tip Toppers. Really. He was 7' tall, she was 6'.
2. During my childhood we had a standard poodle, and the kitchen counters were 3” higher than “normal.” That made everyone and everything in our house tall.
3. The first concert I attended was John Denver at the San Francisco Civic Auditorium in 1973. I was 16 and it was far-out, man.
4. I used to think I didn’t like cats much until one adopted me.
5. I am messy but love to be able to find things – a puzzling dichotomy. This leads us to…
6. My favorite quote is from A.A. Milne: “One of the advantages of being disorderly is that one is constantly making exciting discoveries.” For example, when money falls out of my pockets, I just leave it there as a fun surprise for myself when I (eventually) vacuum.
7. I have my own special brand of interpretive dance. If it were ever taken seriously, I would be horrified.
8. When I turned 12 (in 1969) I asked for the Beatles White Album and “Hair.” As I had been thinking about the songs “Rocky Raccoon” and “Oh Bla Di Bla Da” I was rather surprised by John Lennon’s growling rendition of “Why Don’t We Do It In The Road.” Additionally, expecting the sunny, wholesome Cowsills, I received instead the Broadway Cast Recording of “Hair.” I was briefly stunned (and dictionary-bound) with songs like “Sodomy.” My adolescence had officially begun!
9. I have backpacked all over the Sierra Nevada mountains – some of my favorite places are in John Muir Wilderness and near Clair Tappan Lodge, where Kurt and I met.
10. I am from the San Francisco Bay Area. Don’t call it “Frisco.’
11. I grew up in a tract home built in the 50’s. There were 4 different models – if you’d been in one of each, you pretty much knew what everyone else’s house looked like inside. I always wanted a house with stairs and dormers.
12. I love to speak in microphones, whether or not I have anything to say.
13. I enjoy stupid jokes, especially knock-knock jokes and bad puns.
14. I love to read. LOVE. TO. READ. Since January 1, 2009 I have read 11 books (this is in my “spare” time). Best this year: the lyrical and lovely “The Solace of Leaving Early” by Haven Kimmel.
15. I often pretend to speak French. This only works if no one else in the vicinity can actually speak it.
16. Words like odious, anemone, bilious, discombobulate, ennui, futilitarian, jejune and lugubrious make me happy, although I seldom use them.
17. Indecisiveness makes me stark raving mad. Just do something already!
18. During the huge (1989) San Francisco Loma Prieta earthquake, I was in the bathroom at work and thought it was simply a plumbing problem. This may have been taking “blasé Native Californian” a bit too far.
19. I have never, ever, ever, been bored.
20. I am and ENFP (Meyers Briggs Personality Indicator), an Orange brain (Sheila Glaznov’s What Color is Your Briain), a Cancer/Gemini cusp, and a 7 in the Enneagram (“Sevens are playful, high-spirited, and practical, they can also misapply their many talents, becoming over-extended, scattered, and undisciplined. They constantly seek new and exciting experiences, but can become distracted and exhausted by staying on the go. They typically have problems with impatience and impulsiveness.”) Hmmmmm...
21. Men who I will happily watch read or sing the phone book: David Straithairn, Lyle Lovett, Ed Harris, Samuel L. Jackson, Tommy Lee Jones, Sean Connery, the late Richard Farnsworth , Don Cheadle, William H. Macy, Kurt Kessner and Hugh “love those abs” Jackman.
22. I am a terrible traveler (i.e.: cranky, whiny, twitchy and generally quite horrible) – Kurt has promised that we can go anywhere in the world, as long as he can just meet me there.
23. My (private) Life List is about ¾ complete.
24. I really enjoy being 51, in spite of the thighs, and am quite delighted with where my life has taken me.
25. I love Brussels sprouts, sour cream, gorgonzola cheese, pain au chocolat, tarte tatin and Dr. Pepper. But not together.

Bonus Facts:
26. I am a part of a Green Mom's Blog Carnival even though I am not really a "mom." However, I believe that "Mother Earth" counts. We just won a Shorty award for best green content on Twitter. Go us!
27. I am an orphan. I am simultaneously relieved, saddened, lonely and apathetic about this status.
28. I have three of the most fabulous nieces ever. Look out world, the Anderson girls are coming.
29. Sometimes I get really, really tired of launching an ethical green business. I have a secret desire to chuck it all, buy a Hummer, sell items made in China by slave children, and eat non-organic, trans-fat laden, plastic-wrapped junk food. But then I come to my senses.
30. In case you didn't know, I live in an all off-grid, strawbale house, where we collect rainwater for cooking and bathing. However, I hardly ever sing Kumbya.
31. Our house has phones; DSL; two laptops; a microwave, a convection and a conventional gas oven; running water, 2 sinks, a big luxurious bathtub and a shower, a studio for me and an office for Kurt, lots of compact florescent lightbulbs, one dog and a cat (who masquerade as a herd of elephants).

Friday, February 6, 2009

In Defense of Prozac

A few days ago someone whose blog I respect and read almost daily Twittered a question: “Does anyone know how long it takes for SSRI’s to kick in?” SSRI, an acronym for Selective Seratonin Reuptake Inhibitors is a group of anti-depressants that includes Prozac.

A few years ago I had an experience that affected me profoundly, and I swore that if I ever had the opportunity to speak up for anti-depressants, I would. In my second summer here at Dancing Rabbit (2000) we had a spectacular group of interns. Ranging in age from 19 to about 26, they were enthusiastic, intelligent, and an inspiration. One of the brightest stars was Minna – with a dazzling smile, a zest for life and an infectious laugh, she was an absolute delight. When the summer ended the group of interns went their various ways; Minna went back to Stanford to complete her degree.

In July of 2001 Kurt and I were leading a hiking trip at the Sierra Club’s Clare Tappan Lodge in northern California. One afternoon we walked into the great room and there on table was the latest edition of the San Francisco Chronicle, with headlines screaming about a search for a missing Stanford coed. The accompanying photo showed an effervescent blond with a gorgeous smile – it was Minna. She was found three weeks later, hanging from a tree in a secluded wooded area. Like many of those who knew her, I felt like I had failed her. If I been more candid and honest about my own struggle with depression would she have been able to hear it? Would she have gotten the help that might have saved her life? I will never know, and carry the guilt and shame of that with me always.

My experience: In 1990 I found myself desperately searching for reasons to live. This sounds incredibly melodramatic; it felt incredibly awful. This feeling was particularly strong when driving. On the freeway (I was living in Berkeley and commuting to San Francisco and Hayward – I spent half of my time on one freeway or another) I would have to concentrate in order to not drive into the concrete abutments holding up the over passes; when taking the exit for highway 24, which rose high above the massive interchange and had a tight left curve, it was all I could do to turn the wheel instead of allowing myself and my white bug convertible to go sailing off the side. I could not think of reasons to get up in the morning, I couldn’t think of anyone who liked me. None of it made sense logically – messages from friends were piling up on my answering machine, I had a full social schedule and a job I enjoyed. It was very frightening, as my nature is naturally sunny and optimistic.

Depression wasn’t talked about much then. It was still discussed in whispers, with a kind of knowing look accompanied by eye-rolling; “too bad about XX’ and “why don’t they just snap out of it.”

About the same time my therapist put me on Prozac I found the book Darkness Visible, A Memoir of Madness by William Styron. The two of them saved my life.
"A meditation on Styron's ( Sophie's Choice ) serious depression at the age of 60, this essay evokes with detachment and dignity the months-long turmoil whose symptoms included the novelist's "dank joylessness," insomnia…and his persistent "fantasies of self-destruction" leading to psychiatric treatment and hospitalization. The book's virtues--considerable--are twofold. First, it is a pitiless and chastened record of a nearly fatal human trial far commoner than assumed--and then a literary discourse on the ways and means of our cultural discontents, observed in the figures of poet Randall Jarrell, activist Abbie Hoffman, writer Albert Camus and others. Written by one whose book-learning proves a match for his misery, the memoir travels fastidiously over perilous ground, receiving intimations of mortality and reckoning delicately with them. Always clarifying his demons, never succumbing to them in his prose, Styron's neat, tight narrative carries the bemusement of the worldly wise suddenly set off-course--and the hard-won wisdom therein. In abridged form, the essay first appeared in Vanity Fair." ~ The Publisher’s Weekly review on Amazon

One of the worst parts of depression, at least for me, is the sheer incomprehensibility of it for others. When I wasn’t actively wanting to die, I simply wanted to go away, to not exist. It was all too much work, and far too painful. Styron’s book helped me feel a bit more normal and less psychotic (although I hated the subtitle, A Memoir of Madness). It gave me reference points, a reality check, and let me know that things really would get better.

Therapy, a lot of work, kindness from friends and loved ones all contributed to my recovery. I have come to understand that life is a series of ups and downs, and I no longer fear the downs – I know that I will come through them just fine. And I continue to take Prozac.

I do not consider Prozac a crutch, a moral weakness or a sign of a lack of character. If my brain needs more seratonin then I am going to take it, much like I would take insulin if I were diabetic, or iron if I were deficient. I do not take Prozac to be “happy.” I take it so that I can be alive and function and so that I can work on what is causing me distress.

Also recommended: Unholy Ghost: Writers on Depression edited by Nell Casey. (Can you tell I'm a reader, and that I learn a lot about my world through the words of others?)


"A reader on melancholy," the editor calls this book: a collection of 22 modern essays about depression by writers (several well known) who know their subject intimately. Some face depression as a sudden interruption of a previously gratifying life; others have never known life without it. Their words wrestle to express their vision, their gloom, their attempts to cope, their interactions, their isolation, and, often, their reactions to medications. Some attempt to analyze their depression; others just want you to know what it's like. Besides the essays by writers who have experienced depression firsthand, editor Nell Casey (also a writer of one of the chapters) includes a few essays by their spouses and siblings about what it was like to live with a person suffering from depression. As a whole, the collection is a valuable contribution to the field of depression studies, and will lend some insight and cheer to those struggling with this little-understood condition." ~Review on Amazon

Friends, if you are depressed, go see a therapist, and inquire about anti-depressants. You are important, you matter, you have a whole life ahead of you in which to contribute, and we don’t want to do it without you. If I can help you in any way, please don’t hesitate to contact me.


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