Give Me a Head of Hair, Long Beautiful Hair

I gave the old oil and vinegar hair care regimen a fair shake.  I really did.  And in all reality it wasn't bad.  But that chapter, my friends, has come to a close.

I began this journey with my knitting friends who challenged me to try it for the period of Lent since I was interested in it anyway.  All was going okay, but I never felt like my hair was getting conditioned very well.  My hair didn't feel as silky, tangle free, and soft as I wanted.  I kept waiting for the magical transformation in my hair - hair that had never felt healthier - that others had spoken of.  It never really came.  (Sort of like the elusive runner's high that I never once experienced in all my attempts at becoming a runner.) 

The end of June is when I was finally able to see my knitting group again.  I hadn't seen them since February!  (Which is wrong and unhealthy.)  They, in their delightful honest ways, told me that my hair looked fine except that it wasn't as shiny.  I agreed. 

I decided to try an experiment with the vinegar conditioner by throwing in a tablespoon of olive oil with my vinegar water mixture.  I hopped in the shower, went through my normal routine, and when that conditioner met my hair I thought I heard angels singing.  This, THIS, is what conditioned hair felt like.  I rubbed it through my hair ends and rinsed it out, all the while reveling in the luxurious feel of my hair. 

Ah, but what a cruel hoax it all turned out to be.  A few moments later when I was blow drying my hair I realized that I had not in fact rinsed out the "conditioner" at all.  Somehow, I had thought the vinegar would cut through the oil and allow it to rinse off.  The oil sat on my hair like those poor bird-victims of the Exxon Valdez disaster.  I thought maybe as I blow dried it the heat would help it to absorb into my hair.  This did not happen. 

I walked around with my oily cap of hair wanting to wash it so badly.  And I mean wash it with shampoo.  Not only did I feel the baking soda wash was not going to be any sort of match for this oily disaster head, but I was longing to feel the rich lather and sudsy softness of a shampoo - that complete squeaky clean feeling that comes with all that soapy goodness.  But I had come so far!  How could I just give up, revert back? 

I decided I would shampoo and condition (and I mean manufactured conditioner here) JUST ONCE and then I would go back to what I was doing.  Maybe try some other experiments with the conditioner.

In the shower I was nervous.  Would I remember how to do this?  How would my hair react?  Well, it's like riding a bicycle, the squeezing of the bottles and the lathering of the head.  And let me tell you how my hair reacted.

My. Hair. Loved. It.

I don't think my hair had ever felt so silky and supple and soft and gorgeous in my entire life.  I don't think my baby hair felt as sweet as the hair on my head felt on that particular day.  I was like a Pantene commercial, touching my hair, swishing my hair, smelling my hair, tossing my luxurious locks. 

A part of me knew right then and there that it was over.  We were going camping that weekend and I decided I didn't want to hassle with taking baking soda and vinegar and putting together my mixtures while camping.  But I would go right back to it the next week I said.

When we got home we were getting ready to leave in a few days for another weekend.  I decided there was no point in hassling with it right then either.  I would get right back to it the next week.

But the next week came, and I marched slowly into the bathroom.  I grasped my mustard and dressing bottles I'd been using for the hair care mixtures, and walked resignedly into the kitchen, where I placed them gently in the dishwasher.  It was over.  In the end, I'm simply too vain.  Woe is me.  I am too weak and too proud. 

I have decided that what is better, for my hair at least, has little to do with what I'm washing it with but rather the frequency.  My hair is so much healthier when I only wash it every third day.  It was a good run.  Now I know.  And sweet mercy, you just ought to run your fingers through my hair sometime.  I can't get over the difference. 

Poo Free

Happy Ash Wednesday!  Every year I struggle to find something meaningful to give up for Lent.  I really admire the idea behind giving something up - to draw closer to God - to examine the practices and material goods we have become dependent on in our daily living - even if it's not done for religious reasons.  And so often I end up giving up on giving something up because it seems too difficult to find that perfect transformational experience. 

A few weeks ago I was kicking around the idea of going shampoo and conditioner free.  I had read several forums and blog posts about it and it sounds, well, at the least really interesting.  (There is a great article on how to do this at simplemom.net.)  Most of what I've read claims that your head will not become a grease pit, but that in fact you will have hair that is in the best condition ever.  (Hmmm, I am sort of vain about said hair.)  To sum it up, you wash your hair with baking soda and you condition it with apple cider vinegar.  How cheap and easy can you get?  And you aren't pouring horrible chemicals on your head and you help the environment?  No brainer.  

I brought it up to my knitting group (always full of wise counsel and up for good adventure) and they suggested I take the leap for Lent.  That way, I am giving it a fair shake but have an ending date if it doesn't work out.  I loved the idea immediately.

And then I got a little crazy.  There is so much good information out there about the dangers of the chemicals we use in cleaning our homes and our bodies.  Not only that, but there are really easy, cheap, and natural ingredients we can use as an alternative.  I went to the library and pulled out books with recipes.  I went to the health food store and went berserk.  I stopped at the grocery store and bought all the vinegar and baking soda they had.  (Just kidding...although I stocked up.)  I've already started mixing up my own laundry detergent.  Today I made fabric softener.  Two days ago I started using the oil cleansing method on my face.  (I'll admit, this one SCARES ME TO DEATH.) 

But I can't help feel like all these things are still just token moves, just drops in the environmental bucket.  And I need to find a balance.  I don't know where to stop.  For instance, yesterday I read a forum where women were exclaiming how wonderful reusable feminine hygiene products are and why don't all women use them and why would you want to kill mother earth by not using them and OMG when are you going to start using them?  It had not really occurred to me that I should be seeking an alternative and now I feel just horrible.  Am I literally going to have to go sit in a red tent every month now?  Every time I hear about something new, I can't un-hear it, and then I feel I have a responsibility to respond.  I can't eat my beloved Swiss Cake Rolls without feeling a tremendous amount of guilt because I just know that they are filled with things that are just HORRIBLE for me, not to mention the packaging.  Oh my lands, THE PACKAGING! 

I'm going to take a deep breath now. 

All better. 

But you see what I'm saying about this balance issue.  I want to try to live responsibly - in regards to the environment, our health, and the old pocket-book - but I also want to enjoy the good things in life (i.e. Swiss Cake Rolls) and enjoy my time here on this planet. 

At any rate, yesterday was Fat Tuesday and since it was my last day to shampoo, I lived it up.  Hope you did the same.  My hope is that if you are giving up something for Lent, it might be an enlightening experience. 

Of Rice and Men

Gosh this blog has turned into such domestic drivel.  I really need to get out more.  Or else I could just start pontificating about political ads or my supposed liberal religious agenda or some such nonsense.  But for now?  This entry is about rice.

A few months ago I cleaned out my pantry and it's always a little shocking to discover things in the pantry that I don't remember buying.  It's kind of fun to find that bonus box of rotini you had no idea was there or that extra jar of mayonnaise - but it also signals to me that I have probably overdone it in the grocery buying department.  First world over-consumption and all.

So I decided to put the brakes on the grocery buying for a while and try to use up the things in my pantry.  This requires an entirely different type of supper-time strategy.  It's like trying to eat more seasonally.  You have to craft a meal around ingredients you're staring at rather than deciding what sounds good to you and then pulling the items together.  (You are saying to yourselves, "duh Lisa, it doesn't take a master chef to figure that gem of kitchen wisdom out.")  But it's such an opposite creative process in my mind.  It's like pulling a McGuyver every meal.  Here is one wilted carrot, a piece of string, a can of cream of celery soup, a handful of Swiss cheese, and some peanut butter.  Now - CREATE! 

Frankly, I'm amazed at the variety of meals I've created with what I have on hand because when I first looked in that pantry I was all, "there is nothing in here to eat!"  And I'm surprised at how much food I clearly had all along, considering how long it's been since I actually went "grocery shopping."  

Now to be fair, I have a freezer full of beef and chicken thanks to my parents.  And I have had a lot of fresh garden produce up to this point along with everything my mother and I canned.  So I know that's a huge advantage right there. (And I really have tried to eat more seasonally this summer along with using things in my pantry - which has been fun.)  I have another huge advantage right now in that I'm not working outside the home.  So I have a lot of extra time and energy to think about how to put my suppers together, although I don't think my suppers are actually taking any more time to prepare than before.  

Here is the list of staples I have been purchasing:
Coffee (for obvious reasons)
Milk (to go with my coffee)
Butter (because life's not worth living without it)
Onions (because nothing's worth eating without them)

I ran out of pasta and potatoes ages ago.  But what I do have is a large bag of rice.  And dear sweet mother Mary, that rice WILL NOT END.  We have had nothing but rice for weeks it seems.  Chicken and rice, curry and rice, hamburger gravy over rice, rice pudding, rice soup, etc... And I feel like I have only put the tiniest dent in that jar of rice.  Every day when Brian gets home for lunch I ask, "well guess what we'll be having for supper tonight?"  I'm trying really hard to be thankful for this rice and its apparent longevity.  But frankly, I am riced out.  

*Update.  I started writing this entry on Saturday and Monday I broke down.  I was laying in bed watching the Today show to wake up when an Olive Garden commercial came on - and I found myself completely overcome with desire for what I saw.  I didn't have any lessons because of fall break and I had received a little money for a funeral I helped at on Sunday and I knew where that time and money was headed.  I went to the grocery store, loaded up on supplies and made an Italian feast for supper.  And maybe it was because of all the rice we have been eating, but Brian and I declared it the best meal I have ever prepared.  I wish I could tell you that the meal did not involve using 2.5 sticks of butter.  But it did.  And it was delicious.  So if the rice has accomplished giving Brian and I a better appreciation for food again, then it has been well worth it.  And if you'd like a super tasty chicken piccata recipe, click on this link.  Bon Appetit!

Pride Goeth Before A Load of Laundry

Last week I finally ran out of laundry detergent.  I had been planning for months to attempt making my own because I am SICK AND TIRED of spending so much money on laundry detergent (I do not like what it does to my grocery bill).  And it sounded kind of fun in a productive "look what I can do" sort of way.

I got the recipe from the Grocery Cart Challenge lady.  (Check it out here.)  I gathered my supplies and whipped up my batch.  I was so proud of what I had done.

Then I went to my parents' home for supper to celebrate my dad's birthday.  And my mother just always has to one-up me.  Here's how it went down.  I informed them that I had made said laundry detergent and my mom asked how I did it.  I proceeded to tell the family how I had grated up a bar of fels naptha soap, dissolved it in hot water, added washing soda and borax and stirred the whole thing together.

My brother said, "Oh, well Mom used to make laundry detergent."  I had no memory of this so I asked her how she had done it - wanting to compare recipes and all - and she responded: "Oh, I kept all my kitchen grease, cooked it to remove impurities, combined that with lye, waited for it to harden and then ground it into a powder." 

Huh, so she created soap and I basically just mixed some soaps together.  I'm not feeling quite that excited about my detergent now; cheap lazy soap that it is.  No blood, sweat, tears, and planning required for this load of bologna. 

Someday I'll find a way to beat that woman at her game. 

Too Much Information

You may think this is too much information and if you are frightened, stop reading at this point.  However, the following sort of amused me.  I will try to be as delicate as I can.

So today I canned tomatoes with my mom.  After most of the tomatoes were in their jars and waiting for their merry little water bath, I asked my mom if I could have some ibuprofen.  She said sure, and as I padded off to the bathroom to procure the tablets she asked, "Do you have a headache?"  I replied "no."

When I returned to the kitchen she said, "You know the Amish say you should never can tomatoes when you are menstruating because your jars won't seal." 

I sort of wish she would have mentioned that before I nearly sabotaged our entire batch of tomatoes. 

For the record, the tomatoes sealed. 

But we may not be out of the woods yet.

When I went to my knitting group (after canning) I mentioned what I had been doing that afternoon.  I didn't, of course, mention the delicate matter mentioned above.  Wouldn't you know, one of the women brought up this old wives' tale.  How have I gone my whole life without being aware of this information?

I wondered to myself if it could be hormonal,  perhaps a chemical that escapes through the pores.  There had to be a scientific explanation for this sage wisdom.  So I researched a little.  Turns out that even though our jars sealed, we are still in danger of those tomatoes spoiling in the jar.  AND, I shouldn't have even walked into the garden today because women who are in their oh-so-special "time of the month" are NOT to be around the crops - ESPECIALLY tomatoes or cucumbers!  And heaven forbid you can the cucumbers during that time because it sounds like all kinds of bad things will happen. 

But you can walk around the cabbage.  It might even be good for the cabbage.

One theory I read is that women back in the day, often with many young children and a demanding husband, had to find ways to take a break.  It's the old Red Tent idea.  They claimed it would spoil the food, ruin the canning process, whatever, and then they were able to take a load off.  I really hope this is the case rather than a fearful male population thinking that women are unclean. 

At any rate, I apologize to my dear mother if we all end up with botulism.

Dirty Feet

(A post originally from my myspace blog. Original post date: June 12, 2007)

Okay, so I just got in from working outside, weeding and watering, and I don't know why I bother. I love getting my hands and feet dirty, working in the soil. It makes me feel connected to the earth and God.

But SERIOUSLY! Why does nothing at my house grow...except for trees? I've got trees trying to establish life in every possible inch of soil. Darn things. Who knew it was so easy? I'm amazed people are upset over the rain forests being chopped down. And Arbor Day...plant a tree?!? Just head over to my postage stamp sized yard and you will see that trees are doing just fine. I probably have the cleanest air this side of the Mississippi. I have a tiny patch of sunny area in my backyard in which I attempt to grow a sad garden each year and these two blasted trees keep growing right there, blocking all the sun from my garden. And the trees are, technically, on my neighbor's property so I can't just run over there with my chainsaw. (Okay, I don't have a chainsaw...but if I did.) And despite this, I really love trees and feel I am a tree-hugging-hippy.

What doesn't grow? Well, Brian and I have planted bushes in front of our house at least three times. I finally had some lovely boxwoods that were established and they up and died this year!!! Turns out it was because I salted my sidewalks this winter. So it turns out I can either risk my life (and the postal carrier's) by walking down an icy sidewalk, or I can have nice shrubbery.

We have planted grass every spring for 10 years and it grows in the cracks of my sidewalk but certainly not in the areas I intended it to grow. I never knew it was so impossible. And then I see other people throw down seed and...voila...in two weeks they have a lucious, green lawn perfect for frollicking in. (And sometimes I drive by and they are, in fact, frollicking just to taunt me.)

My tomatoes have the blight. They have had it every year since 7 years ago. If you don't know what the blight does I'll tell you. It crushes your spirit. You have beautiful tomato plants growing tall and strong with yellow blossoms everywhere. And then the brown spots start, caused by a fungus that saps the life out of the plants and saps a little of my soul every day. All I want out of a garden is fresh tomatoes. You know that big, fat, red, juicy, still warm tomato you bring in from the garden, wash the dirt off, slice up, stick in your mouth, juice runs down your chin and you are in Heaven kind of tomato? Yeah, I want that. And I want tomatoes for salsa and tomato sauce and just plain tomato canning. But, that's not for Lisa. I don't want other people's stinking tomatoes! I want my own! I want the fruit of my own labor! People are always so sweet when they hear about my problem. They say, "Oh Lisa, I have far more tomatoes than I can do anything with. Why don't you come help yourself?" Oh, how nice for you that your tomatoes are so FERTILE AND PRODUCTIVE THAT YOU CAN'T POSSIBLY USE THEM ALL!!!! Oh what I wouldn't give to have that problem. Let me just wallow in self pity. But...every year I try again.

My hostas shrink up and die. I accidentally killed my lavendar plant. Brian axed my delphinium (sp?). I tried to grow cucumbers for three years. I had one little chubby cucumber, or as I called her, "Hope." A squirrel grabbed it, ran up the tree, ate two bites, and threw it on the hood of Brian's car. Ah well, I admired the little bugger's spunk.

I just never imagined that keeping the homestead looking nice was so much work! We just sort of suck at it. No wonder my dad was dragging us out of bed at 7:00 AM on Saturdays to get out and weed. It seems like it takes a small army of children to keep a yard looking nice.

I suppose I'll keep trying though my heart will keep breaking. And even though having a green thumb is not one of my gifts, I'll try to be thankful for my others.