You might (seriously) try just a little weed.... that's ok isn't it? other than the legal aspect of course, and more and more states are allowing marijuana. It's legal here, but I haven't tapped it yet. Might if my insomnia comes back...

Off to look at travel possibilities.... not saying where I'm going tho...

Is your brother married???? That's a man's place, at the stove! (preferably in shorts)

Hey you're into this stuff. Tell me if chlorophyll is ok as a supplement, and what would you use it for? (Just curious, it's a long story)

Please do tell, it's important. All comments welcome.

Chlorophyll is very mysterious stuff actually. It somehow takes sunlight and converts carbon and water into sugar. (I can do the formula in my sleep but won't bore you).

I'm interested in shifting my body's PH from acid to alkaline, but don't want to overdo it, if you get my drift. I was using liquid chlorophyll to make dog greenies, and thought I'd try it, as some health nut sites suggested it. The purpose being to set up a more hospitable world for my pancreas, which coughs out insulin, which is possibly what's wrong with me... a shortage thereof. I suspect the loose term "detox" that gets tossed around is actually a referral to this Ph shift. It's remarkable how acidic our modern diet really is, when you start looking at it.

In turn, of course we all should know that insulin (at normal levels) is responsible for converting large sugars/carbs (triglycerides or "trigs") into simple sugars that the cells can use for fuel. Biology 101. Thus lower trigs higher energy (tah dah) if you can normalize insulin levels.

Mind you I don't believe all the cr*p that is out there on the Internet but it seemed harmless ... thanks I'll check the link.

Just thought I'd check on your brother. My son and brothers also cook, and they clean up behind themselves too. I only cook because junk food is so full of salt and carbs, I can't eat "grab and go" stuff.... except apples.
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ah read the link. It's mostly balderdash,,,, in order for chlorophyll to generate energy, it has to have sunlight, and there's a short supply of that in most stomachs. But I actually do feel a little better after putting a few dabs in my water bottle. Guess it can't hurt, I eat celery all the time too... "nothing in excess" as the Greeks used to say.

Here's one for Timothy Leary. I had some Rio Ruby Red grapefruit drink from Trader Joe's last night, and it tasted like Justin Hayward. No. I don't know what he tastes like, but I was experiencing some kind of cross-synapse, Penfield Wilder stimulation. It had grapefruit juice, grape juice, and lemon juice in it. Did it taste like tobacco and cause me to flash back to the old Pine Knob days? I dunno. I just drank the whole bottle and went back to the store for more.

Ha ha! I got off work last night! I feel like a spoiled brat. The prayers and the good doctors paid off, and now the boss is spry.

Back in my own couch, I had a dream of Justin last night. I can't remember it. It was a run-on dream, and I had cast myself in the usual role of loser/wannabe while everybody (the talentless schlups) were exalted above me into the Justin's presence. Anyway, he was nearby, and that made me happy. This pertains to the thread because I remember there was something about watered-down orange drink in the plot.

I woke up to change laundry loads last night. Quelle coincidence!

I was having an awful dream about a predator after one of the girls I teach in Brownies. It's a horrible plot not worth repreating. I tried to trip him up, but it turned out to be a stupid plan in my dream. When I woke up, what I had planned sounded oh, so smart to me. Oh, well.

What were we talking about?

Oh, the Trader Joe's stuff must have antifreeze in it, as it was still liquid after sleeping in my car a couple nights.

And still is . . .

I like Trader Joe's because my sister had a dream she saw Justin there.

I also fixed my hair in their bathroom in NYC. That city is its own planet.

I wouldn't recommend it. Going there for the Justin concerts, I really wanted to walk across the bridge to avoid the traffic hassles. I didn't know it was possible until I had already paid the troll - er, toll and was caught up in the thrall of automobiles. Then, I had my accident. That took a couple hours out of my schedule. I kept looking for a place, like a gas station, to duck in and change, but they were not to be found. When I finally found a parking space, I took my bag and started looking for something. Trader Joes was multi-level. It was the first one I saw with escalators for shopping carts. They had a cheese room to die for, but I didn't have time to look. The bathroom was rather ordinary, as I recall, but honestly I was just looking at myself. How would I transform this sweaty mess into something worthy of an old church and the presence of my great imaginary friend? I wasn't going to plug my curling iron in, so I just ratted and ratted until it looked like I wanted the whole hair thing to be ratted, which was just perfect for the run between venues that would follow, with Naked Guitar Boy shouting to the masses to get out of my way. Since I was the last one allowed in Arlene's, I guess my life is indebted to said busker.