I’d been looking for the perfect one for a while.
 
I was fairly certain that I wouldn’t find it in a thrift store, not even an upscale one.  I recognized, too, that it
wasn’t going to be cheap. 
 
But when I found it, I also knew it would be worth every penny.
 
Yesterday, after confirming a few weeks ago that it was at last being put together, then tracking its packaging and likely delivery date, it arrived at my front door. 
 
And today, this Girl Clown couldn’t be happier.   
 
I’m talking about my new weighted blanket.
 
Used most often these days as a calming tool for children who are autistic; have documented Attention Deficit Disorder, or suffer from a variety of sensory issues, these blankets are now being marketed to adults for an entirely different reason: to help them get a good night’s sleep. 
 
So, given my bouts with insomnia, along with always wanting to try a natural approach first, I knew this kind of sleep aid was going to be in my very near future.  (This GCD blog from last year tells more about my tossing and turning, at http://hilaryrobertsgrant.weebly.com/blog/let-me-sleep.)
 
Although there haven’t been a lot of studies into the science of it all, some experts say that the blankets work because they increase the serotonin in our bodies, the chemical which helps regulate mood and encourage relaxation.  Consequently, serotonin is necessary to create melatonin, another chemical that tells us when it’s time to sleep.  In addition, the weight of these blankets—optimally, about 15 pounds for an adult—reduces tossing and turning at night, which makes for a more restful slumber.  
 
I’ve already experienced the calming effects of other weighted objects. 
 
Sometimes in my yoga classes, we place small fabric weights on our chests to help us achieve the best Shavasana, that final pose which releases tension and promotes deep relaxation.  I’ve noticed that I can go more profoundly into the pose when this tool is added.  I also know that I’ve long enjoyed sleeping with heavy blankets on top of me, even during the summer.  (My late partner used to say I looked like a burrito once I bedded down.)
 
Moreover, having the glorious opportunity to work with special needs children in a classroom environment, I’ve seen firsthand how weighted fabric collars, vests and lap blankets can result in easier transitions and less meltdowns. I’ve even been able to “try them on” for myself, but sadly, many seem to be made out of synthetic, cheap fabrics which didn’t feel good on my skin.  Also, the weights themselves felt, well, too weighty. 
 
But luckily, there are more than a few niche companies offering what I was hoping to find.
 
There’s Sensacalm, which also sells special bath salts and fidget tools along with blankets, and The Magic Blanket, founded by a California dad who started the company because he liked the way a Beanie Baby hugged his shoulder after his daughter put it there while he was driving.  There’s also Mosaic, with lots of blanket sizes, including tiny lap versions, for both kids and grown-ups.
 
But I knew I’d hit pay dirt when I came upon Weighting Comforts, launched two years ago and based in
Franklin, Tennessee. 
 
Making blankets for adults only, the company was founded by former family therapist Donna Durham, who began noticing how much better her clients slept when they used weighted blankets.  But Durham also has a background in home economics education, and the beautiful fabric choices, and quality of construction, reflect that.  I also love the fact that Durham’s product is sewn by international refugees who have resettled in Tennessee. (This has been made possible
by partnering with the non-profit Sew for Hope, which provides sewing machines and classes to this vulnerable
and worthy population.)
 
Of course, none of these facts mean anything if the blanket itself isn’t fabulous.
 
I carefully opened the box that mine came in, noting the matching tissue paper and easy-to-follow instructions. (Yes, it’s machine washable.  Also, the evenly, perfectly distributed weight comes from tiny white plastic pellets that are non-hazardous and FDA approved. )  I was also immediately impressed by the quality and feel of the material, and very happy that the product itself is a decent size—almost as large as a sheet for a single bed. 
 
Given that I’m getting over a stubborn cold right now, I was pretty sure that my new bedtime accessory wasn’t going to guarantee a perfect sleep. 
 
But at some point, I blacked out for a good three hours, feeling like a sweet and loving hug had completely
enveloped me. 
 
Of course, the blanket is an inanimate object. 
 
But as Humphrey Bogart said to Claude Rains in the final scene of the classic film Casablanca, “I think this is
the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
 
What helps you stay calm and reduce anxiety, either during the day or at night?  I look forward to your stories
​and comments!  

There, I did it again.
 
And once more, I couldn’t help myself.
 
I put on my community activist hat and went about correcting a wrong that needed to be righted.   
 
Maybe I got involved because I’m a journalist. Then again, it might be because I’m nosy (something, by the way, that all great reporters are). In every instance, it’s also because the issue at hand is one that has just rubbed me the wrong way.  So, probably, it’s all of these reasons that make me want to act.  
 
My latest personal crusade involved our town’s largest supermarket, a place where nearly everyone who lives here
buys groceries. 
 
I used to love the genteel mustached man who managed the store, but ever since he retired a couple of years ago, I began to question the decisions of its new manager.
 
This came to a head about six months ago, when I saw that the market was allowing a young teenager—one from at least 100 miles away—to stand right next to the entrance from early morning to nighttime.
 
This girl was collecting cold, hard cash for a group, she said, that helps wayward kids in trouble.  But, I’m familiar with this particular organization, and know that instead, it’s run by an extremely fundamentalist church which also practices gay conversion therapy.
 
When I complained to the manager, she told me, “My hands are tied.  There’s nothing I can do.  They filled out an application and it was approved by the district office.” 
 
Over several weeks, I continued to press her about allowing this organization to collect money.  After a while, she grudgingly told me I might contact the store’s corporate office.  So, I sent an email, but after two months, still hadn’t received a response (I’m nothing if not patient).  I was finally able to ferret out a complaint line number—it was well hidden within the company’s very large website, but this wily girl clown found it.    
 
By this time, I hadn’t seen the “we help teenagers” girl for a while, but now there was a new person, also from out of the area and also right at the entrance, soliciting funds to supposedly help hungry children in Africa. (Nope, I’d never heard of this organization, and had also never seen this person in our small town.)       
 
Thankfully, the customer representative I finally spoke with (somewhere in Ohio, I think) was on my side. 
 
In fact, right then and there while I was put on hold, she called the store manager, and told her that no soliciting was allowed, period.  I hadn’t known this, and now realized that the manager had lied to me from the get-go. There had been no forms that had been filled out and there had been no district go-ahead.  
 
A day later, the hungry children guy was still out front, so I decided to nicely ask the manager why she wasn’t adhering to her employer’s policy.  (I also asked friends on Facebook what they thought about these solicitors. They were unanimous in saying they hated them.  Many added that seeing someone standing next to a grocery store door with the sole purpose of collecting money crossed a personal boundary.)
 
I tried to be civil, but the manager was combative.  “I chose to break the rules,” she said, trying to stare me down.  “He seemed like a nice person, so I’m letting him stay.”    
 
As I continued to press her, she continued to say she had made the conscious choice to go against her employer’s corporate guidelines.  After a few minutes—perhaps she realized that I wasn’t going away—she then said that I had
now given her no other option.  Now, I was “forcing her to choose,” so, thanks to me, there would be no more solicitors out front. 
 
The man currently outside, she added, would be gone the next day. 
 
I went on to explain I was more than fine with local non-profits out front.  Girl Scouts could still sell cookies, or a nearby high school music booster club might promote raffle tickets.  In my book, service clubs like Rotary, Kiwanis and Lions are also A-Okay.  In fact, groups like this help to bond communities.  (Additionally, these folks have never gotten in anyone’s face.  They’ve always set up a table near, but never at, the front door.) 
 
No deal, said the manager. 
 
Thanks to my incessant complaining, she continued, there would now never be anyone out front again, ever.  I thanked her for following her store’s policy, but she had to get the last word in.  As she walked away, she turned around and snarled, “And, that is unfortunate.”  
 
I can take it, because it has now been more than a month since that encounter, and I haven’t noticed anyone from any shady organizations at the market doors.  Also, whenever I’ve run into the manager—both of us knowing that someone from the corporate office had a very firm conversation with her—she is polite. 
 
Hello, small victory.
 
I’ve had a handful of other forays into neighborhood activism. 
 
None were planned.
 
In fact, the first issue was tackled only because it was a business right down the street from the yoga studio I attend. 
 
Housed in a strip mall, this enterprise advertised massages for insanely low prices.  The blinking neon sign beckoning customers also flashed well after nine o’clock, which is essentially when our sweet little beach town rolls up
its sidewalks.  Something seemed off, but when I next heard a few people saying they knew customers who had
received “happy endings” there (www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Happy%20ending), I decided
it was time to dust off my hat.
 
The dry cleaner next door more or less admitted that she knew what was going on, but said her parents owned the property and couldn’t speak English well enough to understand what to do.  I knew that was utter poppycock, so took a next, bigger step: contacting our sheriff.
 
Detectives there had also heard the rumors.  At the same time, I was able to get about three dozen neighbors to write letters about their concerns.  It took a while, but in less than a year, the massage parlor moved to a different part of town, in a lightly trafficked area rather than the main corridor where it had been located. 
 
Then, a couple of years after this, I spearheaded the move to get a nearby abandoned house condemned.
 
A fire department captain understood my concerns, and helped me bring this sorry house—uninhabited except by rats and other vermin for close to two decades—to the attention of county officials.  Consequently, the absentee owner was ordered to pay all sorts of government fines.  At about the same time, I went on a local TV news broadcast to complain about the piles of nasty trash the owner was now leaving in the driveway in his attempt to get all of his things out.  But shortly afterwards, he sold the place to some flippers, who redid it quickly in order to make a quick sale. 
 
This “project” took well over a year, but it was well worth it: the house always had good bones, and it’s now completely renovated.  It’s a pleasure to stroll by and see lights on; hear music playing, and know a family has brought it back to life.
 
I’m not wearing my neighborhood activist hat at the moment.   But because I’m always ready to do so, and because I also always feel compelled to try and make the world a better place, I’m pretty sure that there will always be a bit of Don Quixote in me. 
 
I certainly can’t undo every wrong, and I certainly can’t bring justice to the entire world. 
 
But, I can do my best to change a corner of a corner of a corner. 
 
Especially in these unsettling times, that’s good enough for me.
 
Have you ever tried to right a wrong?  I look forward to your stories and comments!