Nope, they aren’t my lucky numbers, and they aren’t yours either. A new report confirms that although any container (read water bottle) with one of those numbers on the bottom is recyclable — great news for the planet — it’s bad for your body. Nasty plastics leach out into the water we later drink.

Like most Angelenos, I spill a fair-sized puddle of change each month to get spring water delivered to my home, so imagine my chagrin to find that my vendor’s new delivery bottles all have the number 7 clearly embossed on the bottom.

The half-gallons I purchase at the market now and then are all number 1 — fine for one round, but easily damaged and becoming bacteria transmitters with repeat use, and toxic after a stint in the microwave or dishwasher. But those bottles have to be constantly recycled, which seems a colossal waste of resources.

I dream of a world where instead of putting money into weapons of destruction, we invest in clean, transportable drinking water for all. In this munificent country, we do have all the water we need for the moment, albeit toxin tinged. Let’s not forget how much of the world has to walk miles each day for even a sip.

The president is scheduled to sign the “Second Chance Act” tomorrow, thus officially making rehabilitation a goal of our misguided prison system. It’s difficult to get excited about any program from the architect of the spectacularly flawed No Child Left Behind, but the wheels of progress are turning exceptionally slowly these days and how wonderful that our government is even thinking about such things! I know it’s prompted more by prison overcrowding than deep concern for society, but we have to start somewhere.

Education is primary, but not just book learnin’; communication skills and techniques for mediation and meditation would be great. We should also teach them yoga, or send Peter, my Total Body Workout teacher, to whip them into shape. Physical workout classes using weights, balls and BOSUs create more centered bodies and minds. Prisoners would develop discipline and balance, and probably take a bit of an ego bruising in the process (as I do), but humility is always a good lesson.

Speaking of starting somewhere, if we’d stop making budget cuts in schools, we could lessen what is in LA a 50 percent high school dropout rate, and diminish the prison population over the next few decades. Let’s give the kids a second chance to create meaningful lives before they get anywhere close to a jail. It’s going to come out of the federal budget sooner or later, so doesn’t it make more sense to help our kids achieve productive lives and contribute to society? What, you say the teacher’s lobby isn’t as strong as the prison lobby? We noticed.

If we’re really going to look at where all this starts, we should be supporting family planning clinics so that every kid who gets born is affordable and wanted. Oops, I forgot, the gov doesn’t give money to clinics that promote any birth control besides abstinence, and we know how well that works.

All these elements are integrally related, and until we start looking at the way the puzzle pieces fit together, we’re swimming upstream.

The April issue of Vanity Fair features three iconic women in the soft rock pantheon: Carol King, Joni Mitchell and Carly Simon. Carly Simon???? I adore Joni Mitchell. She’s written some amazing songs — like the entire Blue album — and covered others as well — how about the great Lambert, Hendricks & Ross song, “Twisted”?

Carol King, oh good lord. Who can argue with “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow” and “You’ve Got a Friend,” both fantastic tunes.

But then, they throw in Carly Simon. I have nothing against Carly Simon. “You’re So Vain” was so fun; we all know at least one person to dedicate that song to, especially here in Hollywood. But what else did she sing? There was the ketchup song… but that’s kind of stuck on the supermarket shelf. Anything else? Were you ever at a party or in the car and someone said, “Oh hey, let’s listen to the new Carly Simon CD”? (And by the way, you can count them on your fingers.) Didn’t think so.

What about Judy Collins? She sang some great tunes, has a discography of about 30 albums and is still going strong. In fact, were it not for Judy Collins’ cover of “Both Sides Now,” Joni Mitchell, great as she is, might still be a musical footnote. And yet, Vanity Fair mentions her only in conjunction with Joni. Judy is also a beautiful lyricist and musician… “Since You Ask,” My Father” and so on. OK so her father was a blind musician and not the head of a big publishing house, but let’s give credit where it’s due.

Even after many years in LA, I’d never been to Palm Springs, famous as a haven for golfers, gay men and retirees. Over my daughter’s spring break, compensating her for a missed trip to Vegas (which was about the last place I wanted to send my young beauty), we went out to Palm Springs for a couple of days and surprise, surprise — it was perfect! Our days were spent by the pool, she sunning and I in the shade of a robust bougainvillea, after which we put on something adorable and sauntered a few streets over to the downtown area. Within just a couple of blocks we found three live bands playing great dance-able tunes. We rocked our socks off, savored a luscious strawberry margarita, then raced back to our hotel for a jacuzzi under the full moon. So if you’re saving your pennies for the Caribbean? Maybe you can get away sooner and cheaper. And if you’re in LA, it’s definitely closer.

It’s spring, my roses are budding and if I can just keep the aphids under control, there will be a breathtaking display in my backyard in the next two weeks.

Spring is a great time to fall in love, whether for the first time or again with the same partner. If you’re looking for inspiration, rent “Love in the Time of Cholera.” Based on a Gabriel Garcia Marquez book, which wasn’t quite as breathtaking as “One Hundred Years of Solitude,” it still has much to recommend it, and for once the film adaptation is perhaps even more powerful than the book on which it’s based. I promise you, if you watch this film you’ll fall in love! It’s pace is measured, but if you finding yourself drifting off into a little siesta, don’t worry. It will infuse your dreams.

It’s good to think about books that have moved us, as we mourn the closing of Dutton’s beloved Brentwood bookstore. My computer is a marvelous machine but never will it replace books.

March 17 has always been green, in honor of… well, ostensibly in honor of St. Patrick, though history gives no indication of that being his favorite color.

But consider: Didn’t St. Patrick travel around Ireland on foot, encouraging Irish farmers to plant potatoes? Maybe he really was a “green” saint, connected to the earth and concerned with sustainability.

And don’t the Irish traditionally like to throw back a pint, especially on March 17? I just Googled “organic beer” and got 106,000 results. I think it’s safe to say St. Patrick would approve.

Why is that so many politicians can’t seem to resist messing up their lives — and ultimately ours — via sex or greed? Elliot Spitzer, governor of New York state who has made amazing progress in curbing the greed of corporations, allegedly has been involved with a prostitution ring. Can’t you just see his opponents salivating? The reverberations will be seismic.

A person’s sexual activities are his or her own business, but anyone active in the political arena risks opening the darkest corners of his life to investigation. Politicians need to get a grip and either be mindful or choose another profession.

Kinda gross, right? Food microbiologist Paul L. Dawson cautions, “Before you have some dip at a party, look around and ask yourself, would I be willing to kiss everyone here? Because you don’t know who might be double dipping, and those who do are sharing their saliva with you.”

Dawson was part of a study concluding that the little dab of dip on your chip transfers at least 50 to 100 bacteria from one mouth to another with every yummy bite. Ooh, now that’s delicious.

As I ambled through the Saturday farmers’ market this morning, after several weeks absence while skiing and working in Colorado, I thought about the people who have come and gone over the seven years I’ve frequented this particular market.

How many moms have I heard tell their little ones, “Let’s go see Harry and Gene?” Harry, who moonlights as a high school principal, is still with us; but Gene, who last winter declined physically despite his agile mind and flirtatious chatter, has passed on. Their organic stand, laden with gorgeous seasonal persimmons, kiwis, grapes and citrus fruits, is always my second stop.

My first is the French bakery… before they run out of melt-in-your-mouth cinnamon twists. Jean, with his delightful Chamonix accent, has gone east to run a French restaurant, but a lovely young woman plies me with baguettes and pumpkin ravioli.

The kindly Fuji apple vendor has passed on, but his beautiful daughters greet me with a smile. And while Kristy at the vegetable stand found a Saturday market closer to home, where she wouldn’t have to drag along her son, I’m getting used to the friendly face that now peers out from behind hillocks of organic black kale, leeks and rhubarb, despite not knowing his name.

Another Harry keeps bees within a few miles of my home, so of course I use his golden wildflower honey to sweeten the numerous cups of tea I brew throughout the day, thus innoculating myself against allergies.

This morning I pondered the fact that many of these farmers have relationships not only with the hundreds of patrons at our market, but at many other markets throughout the city. They are an invisible web linking enthusiastic flavor lovers throughout the city with each other, with wholesome food, and with the land that sustains us.

Sadly, it’s not really an open market. A Minnesota farmer named Jack Hedin writing in the NY Times today notes that the Dept. of Agriculture, in a concession to large agri-business, makes it almost impossible for small farmers who are subsidized to grow commodity crops like corn and soybeans to grow organic fruits and vegetables. (nytimes.com/2008/03/01/opinion/01hedin.html?th&emc=th)

Is this crazy? There’s a huge demand for fresh, organic produce, and we virtually prevent our smaller farmers from growing it? We’re doing a disservice to the farmers and to ourselves. I’ve written to the Farm Service Administration and I’ll let you know if/what they respond.

Inspired by today’s New York Times story on the plastic bag tax that has reduced Ireland’s consumption by 94 percent, I visited reusablebags.com. While I had some idea of how much plastic we use and what happens to it in a landfill, seeing numbers like these was pretty mind-blowing:

• Worldwide, an estimated 500 billion to 1 trillion plastic bags are consumed each year, more than one million per minute.
• Americans use more than 380 billion plastic bags and wraps each year, including 100 billion plastic shopping bags.

Although the US is the worst abuser, the rest of the world substantially contributes. I know it’s a pain to remember to bring cloth bags to the market, but after you get in the habit, you feel kind of silly going in without them. My trick is that once I’ve unpacked whatever I’ve purchased, I display the bags prominently by the front door. Of course they look terrible there, so the next time I go to my car, they’re handy to grab and stow in the back seat.

Some stores even give you a five-cent rebate for bringing your own bag, and Trader Joe’s offers a weekly contest. But hey, if you’re helping save the environment, you’re already a winner, right?