Michelle Viggiano healthyhomeaz

"Friends of the Earth Europe are a little annoyed at companies pretending climate change isn't happening. They scripted a spoof animation about the topic..." The Bureau of Inconvenience, the FBI for Business Interests, is in Europe looking at ways to encourage the naysayers.

My favorite line is "We think people need to focus more on other species' behavior"

Take a look ~ The Exxon Files

Melting Glaciers in Iceland. Photo by Michael Hall

Aside from my plant based carpet and air duct cleaning business, I have an interior design practice with an in-house faux finishing studio. My father was an artist and a painter and I grew up around painted finishes, and never thought they would hold any significance for me. When I was younger, I didn't really care to learn any of these techniques, and sadly, did not. But, I did always ask my ever patient father to take me to the homes of the rich and famous who were his clients. That was an education in itself and from a very early age, I knew that being a designer would be the most gratifying profession for me. Nine years ago I finally decided to stop hiring others to do decorative painting for my clients and had to reach back into my childhood and re-frame and retrace the steps my father would always beg me to learn. Bittersweet and determined, I did so.

Except now, the way I like to create Frescoes, Lime Washes, Pigment Washes, Venetian Plaster, and almost all decorative finishes presently, is without toxic chemicals and pursuant off-gassing. Here are a few of the finishes we have done recently without the use of traditional chemically laden formulas. Healthier for the inhabitants as well as for the artists. All of the following were done with hand troweled non-slaked plaster, ground earth pigments and soy based waxes tinted by us. They can be used almost everywhere - walls and ceilings, doors, furniture, fireplaces, fountains, sinks, and as you can see bathtubs that used to be white.

It depends on the type of carpet, of course. As in most endeavors, the devil is in the details. Carpet cleaning, however boring of a subject, does have its share of controversy. Wet versus dry, Chemical versus plant based. Finish Sealer/Protector or not. It appears to go on an on depending on where you invested your money and time prior to calling me.

It appears, that just a few woman own carpet and air duct cleaning companies. As a consequence, many men call me on the phone, and tell me what's what. Almost everyday. These guys are accountants, doctors, mechanics, postal workers, but carpet cleaners....they are not. I am asked frequently - "Do you how to clean a carpet?" Well yes, as a matter of fact, I do. During the first 18 months of this business I went on every single service call. Every single service call. Yes, I know how to clean carpets, area rugs, upholstery, air ducts, dryer vents, air conditioning motors, seal stone, polish stone floors, hone stone floors, clean tile & grout, mend and/or install new grout, hand wash Oriental Rugs the old school way, stretch carpeting, patch carpeting, dye carpeting, clean mattresses, clean draperies, power wash with the correct psi, and so forth. Not what I went to college for, but hey, I know my business.

I know my business so well that I know that traditional carpet cleaning chemicals are not all what they are cracked up to be. Chemical carpet cleaningagents have rendered themselves obsolete. Yes obsolete. Substandard, due to the way they mis-handle stains, impart toxicity, rob fibers of their luster, help breakdown carpet backing, contain dermatitis producing irritants, create toxic waste, and more. The way I see it, you are not really "cleaning" if you are leaving a chemical footprint inside the home for children and pets, as well as individuals with allergies and later outside when you dump your waste water. You are not really cleaning, if you are flashing the stain down to the carpet padding so it will resurface for residual staining a day or two later. And let's not forget the breakdown of fiber luster, especially on wool and silk carpeting.

But back to the main point of this blog, the best method for the type of carpet. In every instance with the exception of semi-antique and antique Oriental rugs, and flat weaves, the best method is hot water or steam extraction with truck mounted equipment to get the proper powered injection of cleaning agents, and then, the powerful extraction phase. Steam extraction and hot water extraction are not the same. Steam has to be at least 212 degrees Fahrenheit. One would not want steam extraction on wool carpeting, silk carpeting or a blend of these fibers. Just as you would not wash a wool or cashmere sweater in extremely hot water. For these types of carpets and area rugs, tepid to warm water and a cool rinse is best for wool and silk and blends.

Bonnet cleaning, which is an almost dry type of cleaning with a rotary disc is a poor choice for wool and sik fibers, Oriental rugs, flat weaves and sculpted rugs. Especially if you use a carbonated type of cleanser. Add that with the high RPM's and you will be stripping the fibers of their luster. I have been called several times to go out and revitalize wool and silk carpets and area rugs after a bonnet cleaning. However, in commercial settings and for some types of carpeting, bonnet cleaning is just fine and there is no dry time.

Lastly, if you have birds, they are the most sensitive, when it comes to household chemicals and toxins. You should not use any chemical carpet cleaning agents if you have birds, period. If you are having your carpets cleaned, make sure there are plenty of open windows around where the bird cages are, and make sure you only use plant based carpet cleaning products. Unfortunately, when one steam cleans a carpet, some of the embedded former carpet chemicals will be lifted and off-gassed and is potentially harmful to a bird's immune system.

Four Winds Healthy Home Carpet and Air Duct Cleaning Services, serving Scottsdale and Phoenix and the surrounding areas. www.healthyhomeaz.com

I spotted the envelope one day when I was six. It was addressed to my brother with an important government return address. It stated - "Registered Alien" next to his name. Oh the shame, the horror. I knew he was weird, dangerously smug, but this! He must be a handsome "Grey" I surmised. But wait a minute; weren't aliens highly intelligent, possessing amazing powers? I ventured a guess that he was suffering from a truly universal malady, one that struck countless humans as well. Evidently, like many others, he was short on talent, long on looks. Though lately, I could hardly understand him as he and our mother were always speaking Latin together. Something about getting him into the right university, but now I seriously doubted that was the case. Later that evening I questioned my mother about this as tactfully as I could. She distastefully recoiled and stated in French "We are all registered aliens, except you. What about it?" I stopped in my tracks, I was surrounded.

I should have known something was up with them. The food - always a dead giveaway - snails, frog legs, anchovy fillets criss-crossing everything, often with olives punctuating the negative space; prompting a neighbor to always comment, "oh, it looks like a board game" which in turn prompted my mother to later mutter "culinary barbarians..." There was also all that runny cheese that could hardly be contained in the plastic wrap, oval and flat rounds tins with keys and strange writing on them filled the cupboards, no neon bright ketchup or mustard ever to be found. And that music they always listened to - opera, never in English or anything clearly understandable.... I had been blind and yet the only one not afflicted. No wonder when my parents came home, my friends took off so quickly. I used to think it strange when asked if they wanted to stay for dinner, they were visibly shaken.

This latest intelligence sent me on a "search and compare" mission canvassing my neighborhood. What was really going on in everyone else's home? Sadly, no one else was fooled. Every time it rained, the snails would sail out onto the sidewalks. Inevitably, the phone would ring. The neighborhood boys would call and say - "Tell your mother - dinner's on the sidewalk!" For some reason this never bothered me, I thought it rather clever. But I never dared tell my mother this timely news for fear of her going out in the rain and catching them. At this point, I felt she would eat anything that moved.

But really, how had I let myself be duped like this. Now, it all made sense as to why most of my parent's friends and associates were just like them - certainly aliens as well. And most of them had that insidious "Eiffel Tower" monument, or " Leaning Tower of Pisa" somewhere in their homes. Obviously a miniature version of a communication tower, similar to the one Felix and the Professor had...All this made me far more interested in the other houses and buildings around me. I knew what was going on in my newly deemed freakish household. But what did people who were not connected to such beings do, really? I had to venture out beyond my circle of friends at this point.

My home, from the outside looked normal. Once you entered, well, that was a different story. We had modern yet slightly rustic Italian furniture, some of it was sculptural looking made with straight almost Giacometti looking hand wrought iron supports that reminded me of bird legs, cork floors, not as nice as the cork now, and paintings that I didn't really understand. There was brick and wood and white walls everywhere. Just red, black and white it seemed. My mother loved it. The rest of us just endured it. Actually, I hated it. I used to color with crayons, as that was the only medium that stuck, alternating bands of expressive colors in the rusticated grout lines of the brick that surrounded the fireplace as well as an entire wall whenever I could. My ongoing, yet constantly interrupted goal was to finish the entire wall before I was caught. Then my color rationed family could see how truly lovely it would be. I thought it looked beautiful, similar to a Mondrian. Believe me I always paid the price, but I yearned for some extra color and that was all there was in my arsenal. My patient father cleaned it repeatedly and always winked at me afterward. He was a painter, he knew. Even though he was one of them...

For my mission, I began to focus on the Spanish Colonial houses and buildings in my neighborhood. They had huge windows and courtyards and foliage allowing me to do my reconnaissance. Everyday, after school, I would leave my friends and go off on my own and peer into various windows in Hollywood, CA. of all places. I chose my streets carefully but was not afraid of anything, why should I be? I lived among aliens.

Our house was modest in comparison to these grand structures. Could mere humans live in these? It was a stroke of surreptitious timing that in one of these beautifully ornate facades, I peered through the mullioned window and saw that "The Munsters" was on. I, of course always noticed that Marilyn looked so normal and was surrounded by....why I never thought of this before. Marilyn was just like me, or I was just like Marilyn. And the nerve, those Munters thought she was odd, less than... I had to sit down and peer over the carved stone of the window surround and really observe how she behaved among all this madness. I could not really hear the soundtrack, so I focused intently on the expressions, the gestures, all the unspoken courtesies. She seemed so comfortable, so gracious, so kind and giving. Affectionate even. What was her problem? She was like I used to be, downright oblivious.

During the walk home I kept telling myself, if Marilyn can do it, so can I. Besides, she looked great next to them. I could use a boost with regards to my slipping authority being the lone minority and all. This new approach, possibly showcasing my attractive normalacy, made me quite happy as during my astute observations just moments ago, it led me to believe that my mother and brother, especially, were so full of themselves, just like Lily Munster. So for awhile, I abandoned peering into Spanish Colonial windows and hurried home instead to study at "The School Of Marilyn" otherwise known as "The Munsters" on dealing with, well, you know....the differences within families.

Michelle Viggiano Scottsdale & Phoenix Four Winds Healthy Home Carpet and Air Duct Cleaning www.healthyhomeaz.com

That train of thought by Ralph Waldo Emerson stared me in the face today while at a clients home. I rarely go out on carpet and air duct cleaning jobs with the tech, but today I did. My presence is not usually needed out in the field, but today was a bit different. The client could barely speak as it appeared he had a stroke, so we all had to put our heads together on this one. I went to the address thinking perhaps a care giver would be present.

We ring the doorbell and an older gentleman opens the door and motions us into the main living rooms. He has a modest but charming home with books everywhere, and I mean everywhere. Once inside the living and dining rooms, I lay my eyes on some of the most beautiful antique and semi-antique Oriental Rugs I have seen outside of Sothebys and markets in Turkey, Iran or Switzerland. I used to be an Oriental rug collector. I stopped, because for me, it was as addictive, as strong as, if you were to put a "d" in front of the word "rug". Our job was to clean his antique Oriental rugs, but he didn't want us to take them with us, we were to do it there, but in the old world way, by hand, with a brush. I said "yes" with immediate enthusiasm and immediately received a slight jab below my rib cage from you know who. They were so beautiful, just exquisite. It was like hanging around in the old neighborhood. The one I usually avoid at all costs, because I know how relapses happen. So, yes it is true. I was intoxicated by the rugs. High on everything they offered to me, just like in the old days.

So several hours later, we gave him the final invoice and recived a check for $300.00 more than the total due. His handwriting was shaky, but there was a note along with the check that read - "When You Were Cleaning My Rugs I Saw Inside You" As we left he kissed my hand...at that point, I would have gladly done it for free.

Michelle Viggiano Scottsdale & Phoenix Green Plant Based Carpet and Air Duct Cleaning www.healthyhomeaz.com