New Study Finds That Massage Reduces Stress--But We Already Knew That

In a recent study, emergency room nurses who received aromatherapy massages accompanied by music experienced reduced stress levels. According to ScienceDaily, 86 Australian nurses took part in the 12 week study. Usually, 54 to 65 percent of ER staffers suffer from moderate to severe anxiety, but during the course of the study that number fell to 8 percent.

Those nurses only got 15-minute massages, which seems like such a tease. But it shows that even if you only have time for a short massage, you will still experience some benefits.

Seed sense | Society Guardian | SocietyGuardian.co.uk

Seed sense | Society Guardian | SocietyGuardian.co.uk

A must read article from the Guardian about the need to preserve older varieties of vegetables and how the world governments and the large corporations have worked together to limit biodiversity and force these heritage varieties into extinction.

A Place for the Family

The fondest memories of my childhood are of my grandma’s house. Grandma’s was a place where the whole family gathered for Sunday dinners or special occasions, a place where everyone unwound and reconnected with their loved ones. Most of the time, these gatherings spilled out onto the front lawn.

Grandma lived on an old dirt road in the-middle-of-nowhere Oklahoma. Passing cars would raise dust trails behind them that could be seen long before the vehicles themselves were visible. No other houses were visible from Grandma’s yard, only tall weeds and blackjack trees for miles around. Two old rusty Ford trucks sat out front, one red, one blue, although the paint on both had long ago oxidized to pale versions of their original hues.

The front gate, framed by a crepe myrtle bush on one side and a honeysuckle vine on the other, hung lopsided on its hinges so that it scraped the red stone walk at one corner. The mimosa tree on the right served as second base during evening softball games (the gate and front porch were first and third respectively), its soft feathery pink flowers littering the ground and emitting a delicate perfume into the air. Every year Uncle Dale attempted to grow a garden in the barren patch of land that made up the right front corner of the yard. Beyond the fence of the yard proper, lay a tangled pasture overgrown with blackberry bushes, nightshade, and prairie grass.

The left front corner of the yard held a tree we called the bean tree because it produced long skinny pods resembling green beans. Ahead, just to the left of the walk stood an immense elm with branches sturdy enough to climb almost to the top. As a young child I used to stand in the top of the tree and swear I could see all the way to California, while my mother stood below yelling for me to come down before I broke my neck. Next to the elm squatted a small cactus my parents had brought back from Arizona one summer. It never actually thrived in the Oklahoma humidity, but it never died either. It just stood in the shadow of the elm never growing more than two feet tall.

To the left of the elm, just beyond the fence, was the storm cellar, full of water from years of summer rains, which had never been properly drained. Some time ago, Dale had thrown a few fish into the cellar so the grandkids could go fishing without having to leave the view of watchful parents. Past the cellar was a narrow trail that led down into the pasture.

The house had been built in the early nineteen hundreds shortly after the Oklahoma land rush. Originally, it had been a three-room cabin, but as time and technology caught up to it, a kitchen, laundry room, and bathroom—complete with running water—were added. The outside walls were covered with a mauve shingle common to older houses in that part of the country. The facade of the house was square and symmetrical with an A-frame roof, simple and functional. Concrete steps flanked by half-pillars led from the sidewalk to the front porch. A few of the planks had rotted across the bottom and black wasp-like insects called dirt daubers had built a nest in the hole in the ceiling, but overall the porch was fairly sound. At night, we would sit on the porch and look up at the Milky Way, which ran parallel to the front walk, and talk about life beyond our cozy little planet.

Almost every summer Sunday would find cousins, aunts, uncles and sometimes grandparents out in the yard, shooting the breeze, playing a game of softball or climbing trees. These were happy, carefree days when family hierarchies and sibling rivalries would be put to rest for a little while and we all just enjoyed our time together.

100 Great Foods That Will Boost Your Brain and Your Body

Lani over at My Beautiful Chaos has pointed the way to this terrific article about the Top 100 Foods to Improve Your Productivity. This very thorough list includes samplings from every food group and tells what benefits they provide. Whether you want to kick your energy level up a notch, defog your brain, or arm your immune system against biological nasties that could keep you from running at peak performance, there is some goody on this list that will help. Just reading about all that food makes me hungry.

Is That Buttery Popcorn Taking Your Breath Away?

Environmental News Network

Feel like spending a lazy Friday night watching DVD's and eating microwave popcorn instead of getting dolled up and hitting the town? Well, slouching on the sofa may be more relaxing than the club scene, but you may want to rethink your snack of choice.

It seems the fumes from nuking your kernels can cause a nasty little lung disease commonly referred to as "popcorn lung." The disease is caused by exposure to diacetyl, a chemical used to make the buttery flavoring. For years, factory workers who have been exposed to this chemical have been getting sick, some even dying, while little has been done by their employers or the government to protect them.

In July, Dr. Cecile Rose, chief occupational and environmental health physician at National Jewish Medical and Research Center in Denver, CO, wrote of a patient who may have developed the disease from microwaving popcorn in his home several times a day. This has been the first known case of someone developing the disease who wasn't exposed through occupation.

As a result of Dr. Rose's findings, the Flavor and Extract Manufacturers Association is recommending that its members reduce the amount of diacetyl in their butter flavorings. Also, at least two popcorn manufacturers, ConAgra and Pop Weaver, have said that they would stop using diacetyl completely.

Great, so now we can all breathe a sigh of relief, assured that we will soon be able to buy "safe" fake-butter flavored popcorn if we're diligent about reading labels.

But isn't this all a bit too late? Shouldn't ConAgra and Pop Weaver and OSHA and the FDA and a whole lot of other people acted when the first workers started getting sick?

The Pump Handle has been keeping track of the whole story and has a lot more to say about where the government dropped the ball.

I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,

If you want me again look for me under your bootsoles.

You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,

But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,

And filter and fibre your blood.

Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,

Missing me one place search another,

I stop some where waiting for you”

--Walt Whitman