It's Irish Dance Night and this is the best I could come up with

I once met a man at a dinner party whose job had something to do with the manufacture of laundry detergent. He told me that you shouldn't use the same brand of detergent all the time, or the fibres of your clothes and linens would 'get used to it' and they would sort of tighten up and become impervious to the soap so it wouldn't clean as well.

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I have no idea if this is true, but I often vary what detergent I buy anyway, based on what's on sale and if I feel like smelling lemons or mountain breezes or nothing that month (my current favourite is Sunlight Morning Fresh -- sincere apologies for the shameless product placement). So I tend to go back and forth. I don't know if it works, but I do think this sort of recommendation applies to other things. I have a lot of very fine hair, and even if I find a great shampoo, one that makes my hair bouncy and light and full instead of flat and stuck to my head, if I use it for too many days in a row the effect wears off. I've always imagine that it's sort of like the effect the laundry soap man described -- or that my hair just gets bored and wants something new. So I go back and forth between a few shampoos also.

The same thing happens with deodorant. I prefer to use the mineral salt deodorant crystal stick -- colourless, chemical-free, works even though I didn't believe the friend who told me about it and have been disbelieved in turn by everyone I've raved about it to. But after a few months it just stops working, even if I use it the exact same way. So I go to the mind-boggling shelves full of deodorant brand and try to find a scent that doesn't smell too fake. I like most of the Dove ones (okay, I actually love the cucumber and green tea one, it makes my armpits smell delicious -- sincere apologies for the overshare). I use it for a few weeks, then go back to the crystal.

In a way, I find this annoying. Can't I just find something that works well and stick with it and unthinkingly reach for the same brand when it runs out? I don't generally suffer change gladly.

In another way, I think it's good that the things that surround me daily have this way to let me know that routine can be stultifying, and small changes, sometimes leading to bigger changes, can be beneficial, and needful, and refreshing, and make your hair bouncier and shinier in the bargain.

Sincere apologies for the tortured metaphor. It's NaBloPoMo and I was feeling a little desperate. Thank-you and good night.

Wining instead of Whining

I went to the Ottawa Wine and Food show last night because my friend Pam's husband was too sick. In case you're wondering, I'm totally fine with being second choice. It was the day after my husband got back from Japan. It always seems like that day should be great, but it always kind of sucks. While he's away, I'm coasting on adrenaline, I'm efficient and in charge, I'm managing homework and meals and bedtimes and feeling virtuous and competent. When he gets back, all the adrenaline goes to Cleveland and I start the day reading in my chair because it seems like I deserve a rest, but then I start feeling guilty for not doing anything, then I try to do something and do it badly and get crankier, and it all goes horribly wrong. God help the poor man if he tries for welcome-home sex.

So it was good to get out of the house with a good friend, and if there was wine and food involved, so much the better.

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My palate is not sophisticated. Even when they hand the glass to me and tell me specifically that it's supposed to taste like oak, cigars, sea grass or oysters, the best I can do is generally "mm. Good". (in the case of oysters, I was actually quite grateful for this). I also immediately forgot the names of all the really good ones.

I didn't realize, although I probably should have, that a great number of people go to the Wine and Food Show in order to show themselves as well as sample wine and food. At one point, after squeezing past a group of young men in suits, I tapped Pam on the shoulder and said "do you ever watch How I Met Your Mother?" and she said "I was just thinking the same thing!". I guess it's nice that they suited up. I did get hit on by a very drunk, very very tall guy who yelled down at me that I was gorgeous. Based on the other women there I have to conclude that a) he was mocking me or b) at this point in my life I only look good through a drunken haze or from a great vertical distance. I mean, those skinny little things probably just disappear into the floor for someone whose eyes are that far up. That's what I'm telling myself, anyway.

It was fun, and unexpected, and showed me that I should probably get out of the house on the day after Matt gets back from somewhere.

To-ing and Fro-ing

So my husband was in Japan on a last-minute unscheduled panic trip all week, the kids were sick for most of it, I was still coughing from whatever I had, and not much got done.
That was bad.
But my Mom or Dad came over most days so I could go for a walk so I didn't end up drowning myself or the kids in the bath tub and most days it didn't rain and the leaves were crunchy.
That was good.
Eve asked if we could go to the park on Thursday just as it was pouring rain and getting dark and I was making supper, so I said no and she burst into tears and said she never gets to swing any more and swinging is her favourite thing and lots of people have swing sets and we don't and it wasn't fair!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
That was bad.
Matt got home from the airport on Friday just in time to get her from the schoolbus and they went to the park down the street and she swung for half an hour before coming home.
That was good.
I had to miss the blogger's breakfast today because Matt had to take Angus to hockey and Eve is losing her voice again and she was tired and weepy and wanted to stay in her pajamas all day and most emphatically did NOT want to go downtown to meet a bunch of people neither of us have ever met.
That was bad.
While I was loafing somewhat disgruntled-ly, she made paper dolls of our family and brought them to me and said "I made paper people of us. Sorry your face is kind of weird" and we laughed.
That was good.
Then my friend Pam called. Her kids have been sick all week too, but they're mostly better, but her husband has now been walloped by what is probably the flu that shall remain nameless.
That was bad.
But she has two tickets to the wine and food show tonight and she asked me to go with her, since her husband can't.
That was good.
So I still get to go out and hang with fun people today. And there probably wasn't going to be wine at the blogger's breakfast. So even though I really wanted to meet Alison and anyone named Zoom is someone I definitely want to know, I'm looking on the side of (wine)glass at least half full.
Cheers.

Book Review: Autism's False Prophets: Bad Science, Risky Medicine, and the Search for the Cure by Paul A Offit, M.D.

This is a really well-written, timely, important book. And just thinking about it makes me tired, and sad and angry. Thinking about trying to write this review makes me tired. Because this book is well-written, timely and important, and it's completely preaching to the choir. It's not going to convince anyone who isn't already convinced, or leaning that way. The book itself contains the argument that explains why this is the case. I'm sure Paul Offit understands that he is preaching to the choir with this book, which makes it brave of him to have written it.

Some people think that brave ones are the doctors and experts who say that mercury in vaccines or vaccines themselves have caused an autism epidemic. They think these people are brave because they are going against the medical establishment and Big Pharma, who are unscrupulous if not downright evil and only care about big profits, not about the lives or health of patients.

In fact, many, if not most, of these people are surprisingly well-funded and demonstrably unscrupulous when regarded a little more closely. Andrew Wakefield, the doctor who raised the possibility of a link between the MMR vaccine and autism, is a prime example of this. On the strength of what was little better than a hunch, he published a paper in the Lancet that led to years of bitter controversy. Later it was discovered that he had claimed that his investigations were sanctioned by the Ethical Practices Committee, which they hadn't. He had also received hundreds of thousands of dollars from personal injuries lawyers who were suing the government for compensation, which he failed to reveal. He paid researchers who produced favourable results for him. He disregarded information that didn't support his claims.

Despite all this, and multiple solid scientific studies that provide no evidence that the MMR has any link to autism (in fact, when Japan discontinued the MMR on the strength of Wakefield's paper, the rate of autism continued to rise), many people still will not be convinced. One of Offit's main points is that science is unfortunately a weak match for splashy headlines and celebrities who passionately advocate for unprovable theories, and claim that the medical establishment ignores them or tries to cover up their 'proof'.

Offit refers back to the silicone breast implant 'fiasco', in which the industry was basically decimated by anecdotal, unsubstantiated claims that silicone breast implants caused connective tissue disease. Massive class action suits were settled, although people who waited in hopes of winning more money individually were out of luck, since eventually the science showed no evidence to support the claims.

One of the major 'problems' with epidemiological studies, which are the most reliable, is that they cannot prove a negative. The most scientists can ever say is that 'there is no evidence' that the MMR or mercury has any link to incidence of autism. In the face of 'miraculous' cures and improvements touted by charlatans who offer chelation therapy and other useless and sometimes harmful 'treatments', this simply isn't sexy enough for the public.

Vaccines are not without risks, and no doctor has ever claimed that they are. Offit refers to incidents where vaccines caused sickness and even deaths. In all of these cases, the CDC detected the problem and halted the use of the vaccines. There was no cover-up, and the deaths caused by vaccines are far, far fewer than the deaths caused by the diseases the vaccines prevent.

In face of the various conflicts of interest, cynicism and suspicion surrounding this issue, Offit asks "if everyone appears to be in someone's pocket, who or what can be trusted? How can people best determine if the results of a scientific study are accurate? The answer is threefold: transparency of the funding source, internal consistency of the data, and reproducibility of the findings." Wakefield's results were never reproducible, or transparently funded.

There are many reasons why parents of autistic children would accept wild theories and unproven therapies over solid science. The so-called experts who propound these theories and therapies generally have simpler aims: publicity, and money. Some of them may actually believe they're trying to help autistic children, and their parents. They aren't.

Offit has been the target of public vitriol, accusations of being paid to say vaccines are safe, and death threats against him and his family. It was brave of him to write this book. I wish I could believe it would make more of a difference.

What gets carved away

Blank. Empty. Rustling like discarded Halloween-candy wrappers.
The inside of my mind, I mean.

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Oh! There was an article in the newspaper saying that kids had actually found razor blades in Halloween candy. This surprised me, since I recently read that the razor blades and poison in Halloween candy were a complete urban myth. In one case, a drug dealer's child had gotten hold of some of his drugs and overdosed, so the father put some of the drugs on the kid's candy to divert suspicion from himself. In another, a father sprinkled cyanide on his son's candy to collect insurance.
So what's the deal? Did the urban myths surrounding these incidents actually prompt someone to make them real? And how pathetic is that? You can't even think up your own jackassery, you need to hitch on stories on par with some guy with a hook for a hand stalking people making out in parked cars?
We didn't carve our pumpkins until Saturday afternoon. If I dwell on this kind of thing, I get very discouraged. I took Eve to the pumpkin patch a couple of weeks ago, and we got big pumpkins to carve, little pumpkins to paint, and a couple of extra ones to stick in the Mr Potato Head-type eyes, ears and noses we bought at Party Packagers. Then, I don't know, life happened. Two nights a week get swallowed up by Irish dancing and piano lessons. The next night my cunning plan was to take off for book club and let Matt deal with them, but some pissed-off Japanese guy showed up in the office and had to be taken out for dinner, where he fell asleep in mid-rant over his steak, but prompted yet another trip to Japan this week, for which I hope a thousand lyme-disease-infested ticks nest in his pubic hair. Thursday my friend showed up with two possibly contraband armbands which could get my kids vaccinated for H1N1, and yes I took them and no I don't feel guilty (except possibly for neglecting the poor pumpkins). Friday we had a Halloween party. Then it was Halloween.

Damn these people, damn them!
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It happens with most occasions, of course. The Valentine's Day cupcakes I envisioned lovingly decorating with Eve -- the careful placement of icing and sprinkles, the affectionate gazes we would exchange -- that ended with her standing buck naked on a chair throwing a heart-shaped decoration in their general direction before running back to her Barbies. The Christmas decorations that get halfway put up and half left in the box because we run out of time. The science experiment kit that is a big hit whenever we do an experiment, but somehow the 'experiment a week' plan gets shot to hell and it's more like an experiment every eight months.
I'm trying to let it go. I have to confess that Lynette's Facebook post about a huge uncarved pumpkin melting down the table onto the space heater and the floor made me feel guiltily comforted -- not the gooey orange pumpkin-smelling mess, obviously, but the fact that the pumpkin went uncarved. Is it pathetic that I just can't hear enough that everybody is letting something go all the time? Thursday night was supposed to be pumpkin-carving, pumpkin-seed roasting family togetherness. Instead we had bad fast food, hanging out upstairs at the community centre, sharp pointy injectiony family togetherness time, followed by toy store bribery family togetherness. We were still together.
I remember my mother getting really upset when holidays or vacations didn't match the picture in her head. But one of my fondest, most vivid Christmas memories was one year when my Mom started drinking wine before cooking and left a bunch of appetizers in the oven until they were mummified, and we razzed her about it for years.
Things don't have to be perfect. I know that. I love my kids and they know that. Everything else is just sparkly lights and orange fruit (fruit?). And it's expendable.

Day Four

I just walked to Farm Boy to get a few things while my Dad stayed with Angus.

Yogurt is heavy.
I kept both kids home again yesterday. They weren't plague-ish or anything, but Angus has been lying on the couch or his futon and not eating, and neither of these is normal for him. He hasn't even wanted to play the Wii (shouldn't that be in the list of H1N1 symptoms somewhere?). Eve seemed mostly fine yesterday, so we went to piano lessons. Five minutes after she sat down at the piano her eyes were so watery she could hardly see and she was really stuffed up. We came home and she seemed pale and congested and worse than she'd been all day.

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Sigh.
It's not that bad. The kids don't get all that much time together without any other friends available. They've been playing cards and playing the piano together and they even manage to share the couch to watch tv, even though Angus is a giant hunk of boy ("you go outside, I'll go inside").
But my husband's away (for something fresh and original) and it's a whole lot of togetherness. At least I have the 'no, you're sick, you can't sleep in my bed' excuse.
Eve got up and said she still felt stuffed up. So I said fine, one more day. By nine o'clock she realized that she didn't feel that bad and that she hadn't seen her best friend Marianna since Friday and that it was hot dog day. So off to school we went.
Angus just said "Ahh, I love to watch The Simpsons while having my smoothie. It's the perfect combination." I'm thinking he'll be back to school tomorrow. (And I only let them watch the Halloween Simpsons episodes. You know, the ones where they chop up and behead people and stuff. The other ones are obviously inappropriate.)

My H1N1 Post

I figure if I'm going to have to post something every day, I should get some of the current-event type posts and Big Issue posts out of the way. Things that I don't necessarily think people are dying for my opinion on, but somehow it seems a bit cowardly to not volunteer that opinion.

I'm generally all for joining in on bashing the government. My friend Pam and I, on our Wednesday walks, have determined that Ottawa badly needs a Stupidity Czar. So when some official decides he needs to dispatch a crew of workers with water hoses to wash away a street-wide chalk drawing -- BUZZZZZ! Stupidity Czar says no, just wait for it to rain. When the city declares someone dead and refuses to acknowledge their living breathing body as proof to the contrary -- WHACK! Stupidity Czar gets to belt them with a ruler. Like that.

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There have been problems with the H1N1 vaccine plans -- it's not generally good practice to urge as many people as possible to get vaccinated and then say oops! ran out of vaccine. Oh well, you'll probably be okay. However, I think the general public has to accept its fair share of douchebagdom in this case as well. Every year there are extensive advertising campaigns for the seasonal flu shot. I'm not naive enough to think that the government does this because it loves us all and wants us to be safe; the major concern is that the engines of capitalism keep grinding along without the workers mucusing it up. Still, the majority of people don't get the seasonal flu shot. They think they don't need it, they don't like putting 'foreign' things in their bodies, they think it makes them sick, etc. etc. Fine. Most of those people were just as determined that they weren't going to get the H1N1 shot. Then a couple of kids died. Tragic, horrible, a nightmare for their families, but not terribly statistically relevant. Still, suddenly many more people wanted the flu shot. This wasn't exactly predictable.

There's a lot of damned-if-they-do, damned-if-they-do in this situation for the government. If they had spent billions of dollars on H1N1 vaccine and then it wasn't needed? They'd get bashed. Now there isn't enough -- they get bashed. Many people have been vocal about their opinion that H1N1 has been overly hyped as a scare tactic so the vaccine companies can make more money. And if there was a pandemic and there were no preparations whatsoever? What would those people say then?

My point is not that the government is a fragile flower that needs my protection or defense. My point if that we all need to take some responsibility too. Most of us live lives of great comfort and safety. We're not used to the days when an illness could sweep a town and leave its population decimated. We're careless with our own health and that of others. Companies don't want productivity threatened for any reason, and workers don't want to lose status in the eyes of their superiors. People think it's their right to get on a plane and fly off to wherever they want no matter what kind of germs they're spewing. Parents who didn't have to live through the reality of measles or polio smugly refuse to vaccinate their kids, and look down on those of us who do vaccinate ours. Now healthy children have died and suddenly some people are feeling vulnerable, and they think the government should be able to address that immediately. Well, it doesn't work that way.

It's hard to be balanced and logical and fair. It's hard to get out of the pattern of either ignoring the news about phenomena like this or obsessing over it. No matter how this all plays out, chances are when it's over, little will have changed. And I think that's sort of too bad.