One of the things Elaine and I have been doing lately is eating more organically/less toxic-ly.
Given that we aren’t members of the Trump family, we are having to do this in a well thought out sort of way and we haven’t just done a grocery clearcut in our cupboards.
We’ve been using this book a whole lot. It’s really good and the authors seem to understand that not everyone can afford or has access to organics, so they tell you how to minimize the risks of commercial foods and produce.
And yeah, pretty much every major drugstore brand of toothpaste is rated as carcinogenic. My personal favorite for healthfud store toothpaste was the Xylifresh Peppermint, but I haven’t seen it in years.
Looks like we are going to have to go shopping for some Tom’s of Finland toothpaste.
Oh! And the much anticipated Tattoo Convention is today.
I have had a variety of opinions about whether I should or shouldn’t get a tattoo right now.
I really, really, really wanted to get a tattoo before I started chemo.
Let me clarify that…
I had really wanted a tattoo, particularly because this convention gives me some rare opportunities for access to artists I’ll probably never see again.
And, I think the next 6 months are going to be a bit of a challenge, and I wanted something visual to refer to when things were hard.
But it’s been pointed out to me that my immune system is going to be working overtime just to get right with the chemo. Throwing a tattoo on top of all that is asking a bit much.
That’s what lots of wise folks have said.
So, I have a couple of earrings that I received for a birthday present, and hopefully I will be able to get those in one of my ears soon because I need them to work out my pirate look. You know, big old bandana around my head and a couple of big surgical steel earrings on one side… whaddaya think?
Anyway, we are off to the tattoo show today. To look rather than be poked in any way. Maybe I can get a t-shirt…
And then tomorrow… off we go to the chemo. Where I will undoubtedly get poked and no, I don’t want a t-shirt.
Wow… the things that jump up and bite you in the ass when you aren’t paying attention.
Roger Dodger, over and out.