Salty Therapy

If it’s wacky, Glee’s into it. I thought she was was going to be enthused about stress fatigue syndrome, but instead she’s all over salt therapy, the newest California rage. She has returned from Encino, California with the notion to open a spot in Scottsdale that will have patrons sitting in rooms of salt. Right now I’m more concerned that our monsoon season is breaking all records for warm nights and muggy days.

Our urban heat island of concrete, asphalt and condos traps the heat during the day and releases it at night. When we have one of our spectacular storms with dirty rain and extraordinary lightning that sometimes crawls through the phone, the heat stays immobilized. Unless, of course, if you live near the open desert where it cools it down a bit.

It is in this frame of ecological concern that Glee lays it on me that I need salt therapy.

“What is it?”

“Jean, you go into a windowless room, lie on a chaise lounge and breathe salt that’s all over the floor. It’s also being pumped into the room by a generator.”

“Come on. That’s ridiculous. What’s it supposed to do?”

“Stop being so skeptical of new ideas. Even though Dean Schraufnagel, a professor of medicine at University of  Illinois-Chicago says there’s no proof because they haven’t done clinical trial studies, it doesn’t mean it’s not helping people. It would be great for you.”

“First of all, no one is named Schraufnagel. It sounds like a Disney character. Secondly, April called and told me I have Stress Fatigue Syndrome and now you’re telling me there’s a cure?”

“I’m just sayin’ you could use something. This is very well respected. It helps people with respiratory problems, skin rashes and allergies.”

“I don’t have any of those.” Of course that doesn’t mean I couldn’t use some assistance with managing my life, but all my breathing apparatus’ are working fine.

“Well, basking in Dead Sea Salt from the Holy Land can assist you with feeling better.”

“Glee, that’s vague and unscientific. What’s this called?”

Halotherapy. It’s based on caves and spas from two hundred years ago.”

“Honey, I know you’re trying to help me. My life is out of control. But sitting in a salty room sweating isn’t going to do errands for me or prepare a Thai dinner for Maury’s new colleague. Besides, Amber won’t be able to stop licking my arms and legs when I come home.”

“I don’t know why you’re so recalcitrant to new ideas. If it wasn’t for me caring about your well-being you wouldn’t have tried ear candling and the immersion box. Look at the great results you got from that.”

I think I’ll put my head in the oven after I’ve baked a few potatoes in a salty brine during the next monsoon storm.

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