Brother, Can You Spare $185 a Month

Edit is now big into game shows, so yesterday I turned on Wheel of Fortune for us to watch while I made dinner. The man won $100,000.

"Now he can buy cable," she said.

Worth & Worth's Jakob hat. It costs $425, and doesn't appear to be anywhere online, just at 45 West 57th Street. I had so fallen for this one, but returned to my senses, at least until I spotted Ralph Lauren's New Mexico Blue Label line. I could do this look. Even in the horizontal stripes. Even at $1,000 for the outfit, sans shoes and bag.

Although maybe I have to start with a horse.

"Cholesterol is at 172, and your HDL is 85. Great," the doctor says. "But your liver enzymes are ten times the acceptable top limit. What kind of medications are you on?" Apparently the anti-liver ones. This means I'm either an alcoholic with liver cancer or I have hepatitis, neither of which seems very likely since I don't mingle blood much and drink less now than my last work-up. In fact, as my cholesterol count is so good, I think the one-a-day wine has been helpful. But it doesn't matter. I have been instructed to stop all drinking and all OTC painkillers until further notice.

I'm still waiting for further notice. I'm getting crabby.

Oddly, I had just started seeing a wholistic practitioner. I have been killer exhausted ever since a ski trip to Italy. I was thinking it was simply menopause making its rounds, but when I mentioned this to a girlfriend, she gave me the name of the new age doctor and said simply, "You know, life isn't always our ovaries." This doctor studied six different medical systems. I thought there were, at most, two, Blue Cross/Blue Shield and Darfur. The nurse hooked me up to two electrodes that in the span of 4 seconds reported in a print out that at a rest my body burns 1600 calories a day and I'm a Libra. The questionnaire had asked me about my faith, the office was filled with George Harrison music, and all the hot drinks were un-caffeinated. What am I doing here, I wondered.

"It's your adrenal glands, I suspect," the doctor said to me at the end of our 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 an answer I got licorice supplements. Back home I tried to look up information about faulty adrenal glands, but I was three quarters down my first hit before noticing the term "Veterinarian." Then I had the bloodwork done that had been authorized by my Western doctor. The Eastern doctor seemed to be in the ballpark without so much as a single needle or machine. But now certainly the Western MD's are going to step in and get aggressive.

I was happier thinking it was my ovaries.

I'm thinking a visit to Sandra Day O'Connor's OurCourts.org site ought to be good for copy.

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".