Photo by Aubrey Organics

I’ve just run out of my old standby sunscreen from Paula’s Choice, which I’ve loved using because of its nongreasy, unscented, yet gently moisturizing formula—unfortunately, to my everlasting grief, it hasn’t been rated by the Environmental Working Group (EWG), so when my husband called from the natural-foods store asking if I needed anything, I asked him to pick up some sunblock. But because I didn’t have EWG’s list handy (big mistake), after he prattled off some brands, I instantly latched onto a familiar name: Aubrey Organics, the brand I use for my shampoo.

Slathering it on this morning, I give it a big ol’ “meh.” First, its EWG score is a middling 3.0, placing it in the lower-end of the moderate-hazard range.

Next, the cream has a cloying, sickly sweet scent that doesn’t quite arouse my adoration. (Ironically, it’s likely the jasmine oil I’m sniffing; looking at Aubrey’s Web site now, it appears that the company does make an unscented version, however.) And while the Paula’s Choice product glided across my face streak-free, Aubrey’s sunscreen required more effort to rub away any mask-like appearance that might inspire spontaneous bursts of song, while terrifying children and small animals.

Its one saving grace, besides being vegan- and animal-friendly: The sunscreen doesn’t stay on as greasy as other brands I’ve used in the past—even though it contains white camellia, organic shea butter, and organic jojoba oil for hydration—but, considering it costs almost $8 for a 4oz. tube, I think I’ll still give it a miss the next time I’m down the shopping aisle.

The North Carolina coffee mavericks of Larry’s Beans sent over a couple of bags of its organic, fair-trade java. After grinding up the beans in our hand-cranked coffee mill, I consulted our resident coffee expert (read: the hub).

A note: You won’t find the little fair-trade dude on the packaging; Larry’s Beans, along with Just Coffee, Dean’s Beans, and Cafe Campesino, split from Transfair USA in 2004, because it felt that the fair-trade movement was being “watered down” under the “increasingly corporate-friendly” Transfair system. Now part of a co-op of fair-trade, green roasters known as Cooperative Coffee, Larry’s Beans is audited by the international Fair Trade Labeling Organization, which ensures that payments are fairly distributed to each individual farmer—you can even track the origin of each bag of coffee, as well as how much each farmers’ coop was paid, by checking the bag’s lot number against the Larry’s Beans Web site. (How about those transparency cojones, Starbucks?)

All of Larry’s Beans coffee is shade-grown and certified organic (or transitional organic); 97 percent is fair trade, while the remaining 3 percent is the company’s Kauai Blend from Hawaii, where it says there is no need for fair trade.

Costa Lil Ricky
($9.95 per lb)

A mug of Larry’s Beans Costa Lil Ricky has a full taste that’s neither sharp nor overly bitter. Its nice aroma makes for a comforting blend—the perfect partner for an afternoon’s lounging—and its light, smooth feel makes repeated cups welcome in each sitting.

The Grand Turk
($10.85 per lb)

This dark blend by Larry’s Beans carries an enticing aroma in both bean and ground form that permeates a small apartment to make an effective lure to start your morning. The end result after brewing is a tasty mug that makes for a strong wakeup call for the senses. A little goes a long way for this blend, however, as I find repeated cups in a sitting can yield a caffeine overkill.

We also dug the fact that the bags (with designs that rocked my illustration-loving socks off) were resealable—a minor, oft-overlooked detail, but one that enables the packaging to be reused, even long after the last cup of coffee has been drained.

Related articles:
1. Gorilla Coffee
2. Hub’s Guest Review: Black Gold
3. Starbucks Keeps Ethiopian Growers Humble

Image by Mad Gabs

I love Mad Gabs, not just because it’s a small, woman-owned business, but also because it makes the BEST lip balm EVER for my über-dry, chapped winter lips. And okay, I think the moose lips are a hoot and a half, too. Who doesn’t love moose lips? The company is based in Maine, which is where my sister found the blackberry-flavored Moose Smooch lip balm—in a recyclable tin, no less—that she got me. Mad Gabs products are free of petroleum or petroleum derivatives, synthetics, artificial flavors, or fragrance oils. (The lip balm contains only olive oil, beeswax, Vitamin E oil, and natural flavor, so pucker up, buttercup.) And ever since owner Gab discovered the “horrors of paraffin” (more in a future post), she started making 100-percent-soywax candles scented with essential-oil blends.

The Holiday Moose collection, with sugar-cookie- and candy-cane-flavored body balms and lip smoochers, make fun yet practical stocking stuffers for your mistletoe close-up. (From $3, Mad Gabs)

Photo by Amy Eckert/Getty Images

(Part of my Green This House program.)

Rainshow’r Shower Head
Mentioned previously here, suffice to say, we love it. The hub marvels at the higher water-jet pressure despite the shower head being lower flow (due to its great many pinhole perforations). I love the pause switch that saves gallons of water during lathering, but doesn’t lose your carefully calibrated balance of hot and cold water. Plus, the dechlorinating filter, which is supposed to last six to nine months for a family of four, can be mailed to a company that will recycle it at the end of its life.

DIY Skin & Hair Care
My skin is so much happier and clearer since I began mixing up my own skin-care products, and the cost savings have been substantial. Plus, everything is completely edible, which is always the safest bet health-wise when you’re debating over what to smear on your face. I don’t even buy commercial hair conditioner at all, now, but prefer a mix of olive oil, lemon juice/apple cider vinegar, and a few drops of tea tree oil. (Occasionally I add an egg yolk.)

Newbie Gardening
I have a wee catnip seedling and an even-more wee lemon balm seedling growing in TerraNotta pots on my windowsill. A broadleaf thyme cutting I planted taught me a hard lesson about misting young leaves in the mid-afternoon and encouraging leaf burn. Poo. Oh well, ever onward, upward. Oh, I also have three lavender seeds in an Earth Plug I’m quite excited about. (Poor hub has to endure my bursts of “Grow For Me” from Little Shop of Horrors because he’s married to a complete ham.) I didn’t get to go to the farm on Sunday because we weren’t able to get a ride, but I’m sure other opportunities will arise (even if I have to put a bell on Chekhov and pretend he’s a cow). Update: Cause of plant death may in fact be Felis cattus. We made a protective cloche out of an empty cider jug.

Cat Litter
Remember our non-sustainable litter box? I finally managed to convince the hub to unplug the beastly thing. Because the corn-based cat litter we use is biodegradable and flushable, it’s easy to just scoop any kitty byproducts when we visit the bathroom and send it whooshing down the toilet. Chekhov sometimes leans over the toilet to watch, a bit aghast. Most notably, our bathroom doesn’t smell as it sometimes did before.

Bamboo Cutting Board
I am absolutely over-the-moon in love with our attractive, functional, and sustainable bamboo cutting board. It really makes it much more of a joy to prepare food on, as silly as it sounds.

I admit that when my wife came to me and suggested that I switch laundry detergents from our typical “toxic to everything but clothes and maybe still even then” brand to Seventh Generation that I was skeptical.

Yes, it is slightly more expensive and yes, if I was a Mexican wrestler my wrestling name would be El Cheapo. (P.S.: I’m half Mexican and LOVE Mexican wrestling.)

But I have to say that I continue to be amazed at how the scented and unscented Seventh Generation [vegetable-based, non-toxic, and biodegradable] detergent not only cleans laundry but keeps whites stunningly white. Where I used to resort to soaking clothes in toxic bleach—Seventh Generation makes a green version of that too—just to keep shirts from dinginess, the Seventh Generation detergent takes one look and says, “Yo, I got that.”

Since I am the dedicated launderer of clothes in the household, the comparison between regular detergent and Seventh Generation was easy to see. Living in muggy, humid New Jersey and working muggier, humidier New York City means a lot of dingy clothes that need extra care to scrub clean.

Since we have to rely on the local front-loading machines at the Laundromat, soaking whites in bleach is not always an option. (You’re actually supposed to stay there, hover until a light does or does not turn on, then add your bleach in a split second. Oh, and you can’t soak.)

The point of all this is the fact that after using Seventh Generation for about six months, I have just now actually read the label closely enough to realize their mission—based on a Native American tribe’s belief—is to protect the Earth for the seventh generation of your own family. Which I guess is a pretty good way to think about things.

Also, you can mix the whites and color clothes in together, wash on cold and dry on normal, and nothing runs at all. Which is more than I can say for other detergents, hands down.

Photo by Dennis Kitchen/Getty Images

Here are just some of the natural remedies we’ve tried that have been a resounding success so far.

1. Tea Tree Oil Mold Killer
The hub’s low snorts of derision about the efficacy of our homemade cleaning fluids quickly turned into shouts of glee when he used Care2.com’s recipe for tea tree oil mold remover to clean our bathroom ceiling. He said it was better than the bleach-based products we used in the past. “Plus, no cancer!” I hollered up the ladder at him. He still wore goggles, however, so the oil wouldn’t irritate his eyes, and a face mask we have lying around, because the smell can get quite overwhelming. (Oddly enough, I thought it smelled rather bleach-like.)

Caveat:
Essential oils can be potentially toxic to cats, so do keep Fluffums out of the area where you’re doing this. (For more information about cats and essential oils, I recommend reading The Lavender Cat.)

2. Dr. Chekhov’s Cold & Flu Tonic
The name was my sister’s silly idea. She was thrown on her back by a severe case of the sniffles, and complained bitterly about a sore throat. So, improvising from herbal wisdom, I told her to mix 2 tablespoons of apple cider vinegar with about 8 oz. or more of water, plus 20 drops of echinacea extract—to be taken three times a day for a few days. It didn’t perk her up instantly, of course, but after some bed rest (this is very important), her sore throat vanished, and a couple of days later, she was practically bouncing off the walls. Apple cider vinegar kills bacteria and prevents the little buggers from sticking to the lining of your throat, while echinacea—which you may find in many “immune-boosting” health shakes—has antimicrobial properties and stimulates the immune system to battle infections.

You can make a warm version with a teaspoon of honey, as well, but be sure to rinse your mouth well after that because the combo of honey and vinegar can corrode your dental enamel. (We happened to have echinacea extract at home because I told the hub to try this formula when he had an onset of allergies in Florida last week, and so he bought some from a nearby health store. It wasn’t a cure-all for him, but he said he felt somewhat relieved of the symptoms after drinking this for a few days.)

Disclaimer:
Remember kids, Chekhov doesn’t have a real M.D., so this isn’t a substitute for non-quack medical advice, and you should always consult your doctor before trying home remedies if you’re pregnant, nursing, or on other medications. (Some people may be allergic to echinacea, as well, so do approach with caution if you’re hypersensitive.)

3. Baking Soda: Miracle Cleaner
If there’s one product that can put all chemical-cleaner manufacturers out of business, it’s baking soda. I use it for everything from unplugging drains (sprinkle a heapful of baking soda over the drain, let it sit for about 10 minutes, then pour hot water over it) to getting coffee and tea stains out from inside our ceramic mugs. I also like to shake some into the trash bin to absorb smells. And it works great on baked-on gunk on oven pans, and even, to my surprise, rust stains in our sink.

4. DIY Hair Conditioner
I also improvised this from different sources: 1 egg yolk (left over from your egg-white facial), 2 teaspoons of castor oil, and 2 tablespoons of apple cider vinegar. I found this actually worked a little too well, resulting in hair that was almost greasy, so the next time I do this, I’m going to reduce the amount of castor oil by 1 teaspoon. Still, if you have dry hair and are seeking one of those “deep-conditioning treatments,” this would do the trick. My hair became incredibly soft and shiny, and now I’m thinking of adding a few drops of lavender essential oil (and experimenting further) so this can replace my store-bought conditioner. Less haste but less waste.

Applications of apple cider vinegar also all but vanquished any dandruff I had. My scalp still tends to itch the next day, however, so I’m still looking for a solution to this problem.

(Part of my Green This House program.)

As I mentioned in a much earlier post, I went with Aubrey Organics’ Primrose & Lavender Scalp-Soothing Shampoo instead of my conditioner’s matching shampoo because the latter garnered a much higher hazard score on the Environmental Working Group’s Skin Deep site. (Aubrey’s shampoo scored a low 0.4 compared to Avalon’s 1.0.) Neither of them challenged my immune system as much as my original shampoo, Aussie Moist Shampoo for Dry/Damaged Hair, did, however. The thuggish purple kangaroo was slapped with a staggering 2.4 hazard rating.

Aubrey Organics’ alternative doesn’t come cheap—at $9.99 for 11 oz., it costs almost four times as much as Aussie’s shampoo. It is, however, all natural and biodegradable, and won’t end up killing you, which, really, is all I ask of my hair-care products. (That and no fraternization with the man products across the tub, because that’s just a slippery slope to cats and dogs living together, and what kind of society would we be living in, IF you can call that living?) One minor quibble: the shampoo doesn’t lather up as much as other frothy concoctions do, which took some getting used to.

You do experience the scalp-soothing tickle the fresh, aromatic shampoo promises, however, if nowhere near the epic OMIGODTHEBURNTHEBURN proportions of certain antidandruff shampoos. It also cleans without stripping your hair of all its oils, leaving a healthy sheen that persists on days you don’t wash your hair, except you won’t look like you just dipped your head into an oil vat. (Unless you’re like me and have been using apple cider vinegar as a rinse, in which case you’ll just smell like you made a wrong turn at a salad bar.)

I wish Aubrey Organics jazzed up their brand identity and packaging a great deal more—but that’s just my shallow art-brain talking.

Reader Leslie asked me where I got the bags I use for grocery shopping. I have a couple of super-sturdy Earth Totes from ReusableBags.com (which, just to be clear, I have no affiliation with; nor has the company bribed me with cupcakes, although that would have been nice). They fold up to the size of a brown paper bag and are strong and spacious enough for jumbo cartons of milk and juice, so you don’t have to worry about overloading or tearing.

I also use these reusable cotton produce bags for bagging loose veggies because I really hate those skimpy plastic bags that are 1. a damn waste of resources, and 2. almost always end up in the landfill after a single use (unless you’re the hub’s grandmother, who reuses them to give away her homemade tortillas). You might want to use Evert Fresh green bags instead, however, if you’re El Stupido like me and frequently forget to shake the water off veggies before bagging them, leaving a ghoulish, watery trail dripping behind you. The green bags are reusable so all you have to do is wash them (or at least dry them) before your next supermarket excursion.

(Part of my Green This House program.)

Over the years, I’ve generally stuck by Maybelline’s PureStay Powder & Foundation (with SPF 15) because 1. it made me feel pretty, and 2. keeping my skin melanoma-free was the one thing that made sense in this crazy, mixed-up world of ours. (But mostly because it made me feel pretty.) Of course, this was before I discovered it had a hazard score of 2.9, and had likely been tested on animals. So when I was at the organic deli by work the other day, I picked up Burt’s Bees Vanishing Facial Powder, because, hey, it’s 100 percent natural, right? The packaging was made from recycled paper, and the aluminum tin containing the powder was supposedly easy to recycle, as well. Everything seemed on the up and up, no bunnies were drop-kicked on their shaven, cold-cream-smeared butt-cheeks, and so forth. Surely someone with an earthy, regular Joe Shmoe name like Burt, who KEPT BEES, by golly, would have the best interest of my facial pores at heart? Because if I’m wrong, then GODAMMNIT I don’t know what to believe in anymore.

I later found out the Vanishing Facial Powder had a hazard score of 1.1, which is better than Maybelline’s, but is still a flag of moderate concern.

The round tin itself is, give or take a few, about four inches across, making it less wieldy than your standard-issue compact. Also, the lid makes a metallic sucking sound as you pop it off the rest of the tin to get to the powder—severely impeding any stealth touch-up attempts while away from a bathroom counter (for those of you who aren’t coupled and haven’t experienced the joy of watching the light get snuffed from your designated life partner’s eyes as you let yourself go). You don’t get a mirror either, but carrying a pocket-size one would save the extra resource depletion and waste most cosmetics containers are guilty of anyway. The powder at the base of the tin sifts itself through a perforated plastic divide, across which you are instructed to “lightly dip your puff.” The copywriter forgot to add that the puff will DEVOUR YOUR FACE in a dust storm of mica, calcium carbonate, and kaolin.

Granted, I have the grace and poise of a sack of moldy potatoes (which is why my prescient mother hurriedly took me out of kindergarten ballet class before the public stonings began), but I doubt that even the most adroit among us would be able to twist the lid off and pry off the Puff That Ate Manhattan without dispersing flurries of powder about their immediate person and going into sneezing convulsions.

Once I repressed the psychic scarring and used a smaller sponge, however, the powder glided on smoothly on my skin and blended in quite nicely. Coverage was only so-so, though, making me feel less pretty than I did with Maybelline’s foundation. So, not to sound like a total skankoid or anything, but if it’s alright with you and your bees, Burt, I think I’ll keep looking. (Well, after I’m done with using this, which won’t be for a good long while since Burt has packed A LOT of powder that does make it worth the $15.99.)

(Part of my Green This House program.)

I recently switched conditioners to Avalon Organics’ Lavender Nourishing Conditioner, which the company says is made with 70 percent certified organic ingredients. (This makes me wonder about the remaining 30 percent. Were they just not “organic” enough? Do the organic ingredients point at them and laugh and not let them play in their organic-ingredient games? Just WHO do those organic ingredients THINK they are, anyway?) The Environmental Working Group’s Skin Deep project gave it a hazard score of 0.5 (out of 5)—not perfect, but a great deal better than my original conditioner, Aussie’s Moist Conditioner for Dry/Damaged Hair, which garnered a much higher score of 2.5, along with a moderate-concern alert level due to suspect ingredients such as methylparaben and propylparaben, both of which have been linked (though not conclusively) with the development of breast cancer.

The natural lavender scent is so remarkably soothing that it’s one of those rare moments before my shot of caffeine that I don’t feel like I have to reach out and HURT someone. (Then, nostrils suddenly flaring, my reverie is cut short by a rude whiff of eau de kitty caca because Chekhov got lonely and had to make himself a little friend out of his butt, except he forgot to tell his humans that the bioterrorists weren’t attacking that day.)

Although I was underwhelmed the first time I used the conditioner (but note that my mane usually has the consistency of a thatch roof), my hair remained comparably silky the following day, without that unwashed, greasy feeling I usually experience from drugstore conditioners. My major complaint is its price—$7.95 for 11 fl. oz compared to $3.99 for Aussie’s 16 fl. oz—the result of using organic non-synthetics. What price peace of mind? Oh society, WHAT HAVE YOU WROUGHT?

Postscript: I’m also using Avalon’s lavender bar soap but may have to look for a shampoo with a lower hazard score when my Aussie one runs out. Still, I get twitchy at the thought of not having everything match. I blame the patriachy.