Nothing like a diagnosis to scare the holy into you. This old blood sugar level is creeping upwards to the point where I am now considered prediabetic; runs in the family. At this degree, it is easily controlled by weight loss and Thoughtful Choices, which I am perfectly capable of making. Also stopped at the health food shop to see what's new in wackytown.

One semester of college I invested in an Alternative Medicine course taught by the fellow who patented the omega-3 eggs and is now rolling in cluckybucks. The validity of alternative med is indisputable in many areas, especially regarding plant characteristics. However, grind up a dried sea cucumber and you've lost me, as a sea cucumber is an animal related to snot, and is clearly not a solid cucumber hybrid. You go pick one up and see if I lie.

So, to me there is worth in a visit to the health food place. Like any other place, you must read the labels and compare, and take along a magnifying glass to read the eentsy print listing the amounts of ingredients. I came home with a bottle of "Glucose Helper" capsules and a large container of liquid vitamins that tastes like liquid vitamins. And a carob bar out of a bin that O Caledonia, will not happen again.

You smoosh the stuff around in your mouth, hoping for the carob to mimic chocolate and it just don't happen. It ends up a bitter, grainy paste that no matter how much you try to delude your brain that you are enjoying it, your smarter tongue quits, slams on its hat and goes out the door. It tastes like shattered dreams. So, no more carob here. Ptooey, as they say.

I am going to go feed the fish, and carve the pleco a piece of honeydew. You go find something to feed, be it your animal pal or your literature-hungry brain. Your musically divined soul. Your plants or the birds outside. Your friend. You. Put the dogs up and take a load off. It's the end of the day and city lights are outside the window blinking, glowing. I'm here, I'm here.