What Organic Food Is and Is Not

There’s a lot of confusion about organic food.

As a mom and consumer, I know organic food garners a premium price. But I like to have choices. My family buys and eats food that looks and tastes good and that we can afford. That includes conventional, organic, biotech, heirloom, domestic, international, and farmer’s market fare.

So how is organic food defined? The USDA sets the standards for foods labeled USDA Organic through the National Organic Program, established by the Organic Foods Production Act of 1990.

Food that meets these standards can display the USDA Organic seal:

Organic crops. The USDA organic seal verifies that irradiation, sewage sludge, synthetic fertilizers, prohibited pesticides, and genetically modified organisms were not used.

Organic livestock. The USDA organic seal verifies that producers met animal health and welfare standards, did not use antibiotics or growth hormones, used 100% organic feed, and provided animals with access to the outdoors.

Organic multi-ingredient foods. The USDA organic seal verifies that the product has 95% or more certified organic content. If the label claims that it was made with specified organic ingredients, you can be sure that those specific ingredients are certified organic.

From the USDA National Organic Program, summary of Organic Standards. The complete text of the legislation regulating the USDA Organic Standards is also available online.

Seems straightforward. Why does confusion about organic food persist?

That brings us to what organic food is not:

Organic food is not more nutritious. This week’s Stanford University study concluded organic food is not healthier than conventional food. This isn’t really new information. Last year Scientific American reported 50 years of research comparisons have shown there are no health differences between organic and conventional food.

Organic food is not pesticide-free. Organic farms may use approved pesticides and fungicides derived from natural sources rather than synthetics to protect crops from insects and disease. Scientific American reported organic pesticides may be worse than those used in conventional farming. Organic food also tends to have more pathogens like E. coli and Salmonella than conventional food. It’s important to note the Stanford researchers found the pesticide levels of all food generally fell within the allowable safety limits.

Organic food is not better for the environment. According to Scientific American, organic farming requires more land to produce the same amount of food as conventional farming. If we were to switch to 100 percent organic farming today, we would have to clear another 20 percent of the ice-free land on earth to make up the difference in production.

Organic food is not necessarily local or fair-trade. Go Green Online reported the average organic food travels 1,200 miles before it reaches the consumer. And organic food may still be produced using illegal migrant workers receiving unfair wages in harsh working conditions.

My family buys and eats many different kinds of food; I’m not advocating one type of food over another. What I’m advocating is education and choice.

We do ourselves a disservice when we pit organic against conventional or biotech, local against domestic or imported. There’s room at the table for all kinds of food to meet many different needs.

There’s freedom for us to learn and decide for ourselves what to eat.

You cause grass to grow for the livestock
and plants for people to use.
You allow them to produce food from the earth. Psalm 104:14 NLT

Blueberry Hill by Fats Domino. Wow.

Do you buy organic, conventional, or both? Why?

Posted on September 6, 2012September 6, 2012 by Aimee 23

Bellies on Vacation

I’ve fallen off the yoga wagon. Hard.

Our summer schedule doesn’t allow time for the mom to make it to yoga class. I bike and swim with my son, but yoga quest is officially suspended.

I can hear my instructor. “I see some bellies that look like they’re on vacation,” she’d say when we weren’t properly engaging the core in class.

She’d be mortified to see that now my belly really is on vacation. It’s on a Mediterranean cruise, complete with an endless antipasto bar and a Big Gulp Coke. Sip on that, Mayor Bloomberg.

It’s gone to Disneyland where dreams really do come true whether you exercise or not. You’ve never seen Snow White on a StairMaster, have you? All you need is a little Tinkerbell, a pumpkin, and a pair of glass slippers.

My belly unfolds like a beached whale on the sand. It spreads out like a jellyfish washed ashore. I took it to Vermont, home of Ben & Jerry’s for crying out loud. Can you say Vermonster?

Enough! It’s not that bad. It’s not yoga-belly either. My pilates paunch has gone kaput. The core is no more.

My wellness coach friend Lisa Hautly wrote an uplifting, common-sense post: A Health Centered Approach to Living Well.

ben & jerry's chocolate chip cookie dough — Ben & Jerry look strangely familiar

“Love your body,” she writes.

“Move.”

“Listen to your belly.”

“Sleep.”

“Reduce stress.”

I’m sleeping. I’m listening. I’m moving. I’m loving my body. Incredible, expanding belly and all.

Summer is flying by. School begins in six short weeks. The normal schedule will resume. I will drag back to yoga class.

My instructor may not recognize me sporting my new abdominal baggage, but she won’t turn me away. It’s the Y after all.

The core will engage. The belly will flatten. Equilibrium will return.

In the meantime, I’m not missing a moment of summer. And neither is my belly.

Wise words satisfy like a good meal;
the right words bring satisfaction. Proverbs 18:20 NLT

Something’s Gotta Give by Ella Fitzgerald.

So how’s your summer been?

Posted on July 9, 2012April 16, 2018 by Aimee 10

Vikings and Temple Dancers

A good week finds me at the Y two mornings for yoga and two for pilates.

I have four different instructors affectionately nicknamed to protect their identities: the Boomer, the Ballerina, the Brit, and Grace whom you may remember from Namaste.

buffalo on Manchester — buffalo as seen on Manchester

The Boomer is my intelligent, sandwich generation yoga instructor. In true Boomer fashion, she delivers a hefty dose of unsolicited, often humorous, expert advice every week.

Tells us how we should put our handbags in our grocery carts when shopping to preserve our shoulders. How we must strengthen our quads so we don’t end up in nursing homes, unable to take care of our own bathroom duties.

It’s a fun class. Really.

One morning, she said, “There are two kinds of people in the world: Vikings and temple dancers.”

We giggled. “Vikings are the people we hear above us in the weight room grunting and dropping dumbbells on the floor,” she said. “They like the taste of adrenaline. They want to lift, sweat, and pump iron.”

“Then there are those of us who are temple dancers,” she said. “We like to bend, stretch, and feel the gentle flood of endorphins.”

“It would be good for the Vikings to dance and the temple dancers to lift weights,” she said. “But we have our preferences. We start with our strengths.”

flashdance — what a feeling as seen at Sears

My Y-appointed trainer wants me to go to the Body Blitz class. Add the Muscle Pump hour. Do something called CORE in all caps.

Says it will help me “burn” faster. Speed up my metabolism. Thinks yoga is all cardio and no resistance. I’m avoiding her for the time being.

I pine for chiseled arms like Linda Hamilton’s in Terminator, so I may add weights. Vanity, oh vanity. But my metabolism is fast enough already.

And there’s a lot of resistance in yoga and pilates. It’s nuanced. You push against your own body rather than a free weight or machine.

It’s like a dance with yourself. A temple dance of bending, stretching, and wonderful, glorious endorphins.

You did it: You changed wild lament
into whirling dance;
You ripped off my black mourning band
and decked me with wildflowers.
I’m about to burst with song;
I can’t keep quiet about You.
God, my God,
I can’t thank you enough. Psalm 30:11-12 The Message

Dancing with Myself by Nouvelle Vague. If you’re used to the Billy Idol version of this song, you’re in for a treat with Nouvelle Vague’s cover. Fantastique!

Disclaimer: In case it isn’t blatantly obvious to you, I’m not an authority in health or fitness. I write of my own experiences and impressions. Nothing here should be construed as health, fitness, or medical advice.

Posted on March 12, 2012November 15, 2012 by Aimee 7

De-Stress for Less

Holidays. Holidays. Holidays. Feeling stressed yet? Yeah, me too.

Afeetinfountain2 — June 22, 2011, at the National Gallery of Art Sculpture Garden in Washington, D.C.

Good or bad, stress is stress no matter how you cut it. And December has stress to spare. So I’ve asked around for ideas to relieve stress and boost energy.

I’m familiar with the basics. Clear your schedule. Do what’s necessary and what you enjoy. Drop the extra busy-ness.

Pray. Spend time with people you like. Exercise and eat nutritious foods (okay, still working on those two). Play with your dog. Laugh.

Short of stealing away for a week at the spa, I was surprised to learn there’s more I can do. And it won’t cost me a dime:

1. Drink more water.

Both my massage therapist and my wellness coach friend Lisa Hautly recommend drinking more water. Helps flush out toxins and keep tissues hydrated.

2. Sleep.

Lisa says if you’re tired, go to bed. Epiphany, I know. Sleep is restorative. For most of us, it’s the only time our bodies and minds have to regenerate.

3. Remove your shoes.

A soccer mom friend who’s also a nurse said she’d read in a study you could reduce stress by simply taking off your shoes. Upon hearing this, our entire row of soccer moms flipped off our shoes on the sideline of the practice field. Ahhh.

Water. Sleep. Bare feet. I can do that today. So can you.

Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Matthew 11:28 NIV

Restless by Audrey Assad. Love this song. Close your eyes. Relax. Listen.

Meet Ms. Moderation Lisa Hautly

Lisa Hautly

Lisa Hautly is a dynamo.

A Lifestyle and Weight Management Consultant and ACE Certified Personal Trainer, Lisa focuses on healthy living for busy souls in her wellness coaching and Ms. Moderation blog.

Proud to call her my friend, someday I hope to catch up with her on my bike.

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Posted on December 7, 2011July 9, 2012 by Aimee 10

Sleepless in St. Louis: Diagnosis Apnea

It’s official. My husband has sleep apnea.

I have known this for at least seven years. Now he believes it too. Why? After a sleep study during which he stopped breathing more than 100 times per hour, the doctor told him oh yes, he has a most severe case.

Repeat the rule after me. Listen to your spouse. Listen to your spouse.

My husband insisted for much of the past seven years he didn’t need to go to the doctor. His condition was genetic. He couldn’t help it. He was born this way. Comes from a long line of short, fat, snoring, German men.

All this despite the fact he stands six feet tall and his father is taller. So much for the short, fat, German man defense.

But my father-in-law snores too. I acquiesced to the genetic excuse for a while.

Then I got mad. A counselor friend tells me it’s easier to be angry than to be afraid. She’s on to something.

I was afraid. I am afraid my husband will drop dead of a condition that is absolutely treatable.

In the middle of the night, he will have a stroke or a heart attack and be gone. Or in a state of cataclysmic sleep deprivation, he will fall asleep at the wheel and die in a crash. It happens. Poof! Just like that. Gone.

You can’t hide tired forever. Eventually chronic sleep deprivation shows.

My husband, once unable to stop talking, now was unable to carry on a conversation. The man who once relished reading with his little boy now was unable to stay awake past the first few pages.

We were losing him even though he was still living here with us.

At that point I was terrified, so I got hopping mad.

And that is where I camped out for a while. Seething in my anger. All by myself in my hopping mad little tent. Alone.

That is also where my lesson comes in.

No more seething alone. I need to say what I need to say before the quiet repression begins and the situation balloons into a major crisis. Cue John Mayer.

skinnylittlefootsml — my skinny little foot in Kenneth Cole

When I finally put my skinny little foot down and called the sleep clinic and drove him to the appointment, my husband got the diagnosis I expected.

His doctor prescribed a sleep machine. It is helping. Immensely. Miraculously.

Of course the only model that works for my him is the most complicated and expensive one.

Funny thing. He didn’t use that as an excuse to bail.

This time I wasn’t going to let him. After all these years, every day and night, we’re still learning our lessons.

Be humble and gentle. Be patient with each other, making allowance for each other’s faults because of your love. Ephesians 4:2 TLB

In his book Questions & Answers About Sleep Apnea, Dr. Sudhansu Chokroverty, MD, FRCP, FACP, reports 15-20 million people in the United States suffer from sleep apnea. Want more information? Mayo Clinic, The National Institutes of Health, and The New York Times are excellent places to start online. My husband will even email with you about his experience if you like. Contact everyday epistle at att dot net. And please consult your doctor.

Dear Nora Ephron, thank you for Sleepless in Seattle. Who’d have guessed your film along with Pearl Jam and Nirvana would lure masses of Gen-Xers to Seattle in the early 90s. They stayed for Starbucks and ended up with Twilight vampire children who settled across the way in Forks. (Did I just write that? I think I need to get some sleep.)

Posted on May 2, 2011July 9, 2012 by Aimee 9

everyday epistle

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