"Cholesterol is at 172, good," the doctor says.
"And your HDL is 85, great," the doctor says.
"But your liver enzymes are ten times normal, bad," the doctor says. "What kind of medications are you on?" Apparently the anti-liver ones. This means I'm either an alcoholic or I have hepatitis, neither of which seems very likely since I don't mingle blood much and drink less now than ever. In fact, as my cholesterol count is so much better than four years ago, I think the one-a-day wine has been helpful.

"We're cutting you off of all wine and all ibuprofen until we figure this out," doc says. I'm going to get so crabby.

Oddly, all this follows on starting with a wholistic practitioner. And I know it isn't her treatment that is driving this. All the bloodwork was taken before then. I already wasn't sure I was believing in this new approach to living, but I thought I would close my eyes and trust in the East. Now the Western MD's are going to step in and get aggressive. Maybe the best rule is to simply avoid the doctors. Any kind.

I went to see my new age doctor. She has studied six different medical systems, including Western. I figured there were, at most, two. They hooked me up to two electrodes that in the span of 4 seconds reported that at a rest, my body burns 1600 calories a day. Pretty good, the doc says to me. I would have been happier with 3000. I told her that I have been fatigued and angry a lot, but when I mentioned menopause to my girlfriend, she told me to shut my face and get on a fast track to this doctor, that it was probably some other gland or body process that was beating me down. "You know, life isn't always our ovaries," my BFF insisted.

"It's your adrenal glands, I suspect," the doctor said to me at the end of a two hour session. I thought she was going to pin it on my thyroid, a popular diagnosis here where thyroids wear out faster than winter tires. So I was pleased she had something unique for me. What's an adrenal I wanted to know. But instead of a lot of info she gave me a laundry list of supplements, including licorice for the adrenal gland. I tried to look up information about faulty adrenal glands. I was three quarters down my first hit read before noticing the term "Veterinarian."

Kevin W. Sharer became the CEO of Amgen in 2000. He was featured in yesterday's Times, explaining that when he came on board, he spent 150 hours with the top 150 people of the company, interviewing them, getting to know them, doing what sounds like a real Six Sigma, touchy feely series of individual feedback sessions.

And then he fired most of them.

Lesson learned? I don't know. Never let down your guard?

Cleaning Crew

I sat around last Saturday night with a handful of women of substantial means. When the conversation turned to notifying other parents of children and potential internet abuse, the women focused on an acquaintance who refused to believe her children could ever do anything wrong (unlike the rest of us, uh hunh) and that her control freak ways had spilled over to an insistence that she clean her own home. "She has money," the group said. "And a full time job. Why not get some help?"

"Oh," I understand that, maybe. "I feel awkward not cleaning up after myself, myself. It's not like I do it - I don't have the time and the house shows it, but there is something inside me that prefers mess, I guess, to having someone come in and mop up around my feet. Or else I'm just too cheap."

The ladies stared at me with that look of processing information. I had no idea what they were all thinking, except that I could tell they were all thinking something, like never eat anything she brings to a gathering. So I decided to give in, to cave, to hire a semi-monthly cleaning team and try to gain back at least one day a weekend for writing, photography, or maybe the kids. It started this morning. The two women came in, gave a treat to the family pet, and then split up rooms between them. As I was gathering my things to get to the office, one of the women asked, "Do you rent?"

I have no idea what that means. What is it about my house that suggests I rent?

Working on a piece on prom dresses, I found a Faviana long gown in a print that reminded me of Midsummer Night's Dream, with spirits of yellow and celedon, and hints of blue and orange, whisping about against a white background. I loved it. The other adults - male and female - in the office thought it was lovely. The 19 year old who was helping me with the image layout labeled the dress image "crazyassdress".

I may be the only person to distrust antioxidants. I read this article, figured that everybody else was marketing anti-oxidants for the fear factor that opens pocketbooks, and simply stayed off the band wagon. The Science Times today didn't report any benefit in the heart or cancer arena. I'm more curious to see if it is actually dangerous to load up.

Edit has taken to pomegranate juice and seeds, but I don't know why. Some other influential 8 year old must have convinced her because that it was for her own good because I don't think she likes it. She drinks the juice with the same reservation that one drinks wine. She doesn't guzzle.

Spanx Me

I've avoided the Spanx line. I have a problem with girdles and other binding and life cinching things outside an S&M fantasy. Either be comfortable with your shape, or get in shape. Constricting wear is as 21st Century woman as button boots and pre-suffrage. But out looking for a black bra one day, some store woman insisted I try a Spanx Bra. I did, and it was great. Its big promo is that it helps avoid back fat marks, but honestly, if I can't see it, then it is a problem that I don't know I have. If I don't know I have a problem, then there is no problem. But still, the bra felt great on, more gentle actually than most other bras, and certainly less involved than anything Victoria Secrets. I recommend that every woman, large or small, try one. It's less a fix it piece than a tremendously comfortable piece.

Go figure.