Giant Chew Toy, It Is Not.

Bullet points are my friends.

• There's nothing quite like getting a haircut and blowdry at a salon to make me feel like I'm living in a hair commercial. I might have indulgently (and obnoxiously?) swung my hair around just a wee bit at the grocery store before I headed home on Saturday.
• The diabetes gods will always ensure that no matter where I put a new infusion site, Aaron will snag it while hugging me. And that I will reflexively respond, "It's okay!!", while trying to mask the wincing.
• The JDRF had a live webcast last week on glucose-responsive (or "smart", as it's otherwise known) insulin - if you missed it, you can watch the archived version here.
• Several awesome people with diabetes will be convening this coming weekend in Kansas City (there's a NYC meet-up, too), and I am beyond excited to see everyone - and meet some face-to-face for the first time! Also, I will get to prove that my husband is a real person, as this is only the second DOC meetup he's been able to attend with me. ;)  I'll be tweeting as much as I can remember to over the weekend. (Sometimes it's hard to remember - I'd rather live the moment and talk about it later, you know?)
• Billy - your brand new dog bed is not a giant chew toy. STOP IT. (P.S. Thanks for the snuggles this morning; you make Mondays just that much more bearable. Or dogable. You're not a bear. Whatever.)

Vlog: Yell At Your Meter.

A lot of times we blame ourselves when blood sugars are higher or lower than we like, but it isn't always the case that it's something we've done to cause it. (You've heard of blood sugar fairies, right?)

We can come down pretty hard on ourselves at times like that, and it helps me when I remember that it's not always my "fault". It also helps me when I can have a little bit of fun attacking the very robot parts that keep me alive.

Sometimes you just need to let it all out.

Thanks, Universe.

Today, I'm grateful that my universe is attempting some balance for me.

Because while I may have realized mid-drive this morning that I was headed to work with only enough insulin in my pump for basal (good thing I keep that insulin pen with me - and you KNOW I shot myself in the calf at a stoplight to cover breakfast, because that's how I roll), and the only coffee creamer I had left to bring with me was the Bailey's Irish Cream (it's non-alcoholic, but that doesn't make bringing it to work look any less awkward), I got to wake up to this graph. It happened after completely SWAGing a late-night dinner of fast food "Mexican", and I have absolutely no idea how to replicate this.

I'm not going to question it. I'm just going to appreciate it.

Sometimes, you have to celebrate the little victories.

My Dog Got Fan Mail, And It Is Awesome.

(Alternate titles: "What The What?", "It's Not Every Day That The Postman Brings You Questionable Dog Photos", and "Billy Corgin: Ladies' Dog".)

Well, this is a first:

It appears that my dog has an admirer. That admirer sent a love letter. Which also included some borderline salacious canine photos.

Note the lewd pose on the left. 

In case you can't read the letter, it says:

Dear Billy,


My mom knows your mom, and I think I love you. She says we should be friends first, and get to know each other, maybe at a park together. You are a smart, happy dog with short legs. Do you like small, feisty, fluffy and slightly older girls? I hope you do.


Licks, 


Lola


As it turns out, I may not be the only crazy dog lady out there. (Also, thank you for making me laugh so hard that I scared the dog, C. Totally worth it.)

Screw You; I'm Awesome.

I was minding my own (and my dog's) business on the bike trail, which parallels a well-traveled road near my house. Billy and I had just thrown down three miles on that bright, sunshiney afternoon, and were on the homestretch when Billy decided he needed to stop and do a stretch of his own RIGHT THAT MINUTE AND IT COULDN'T WAIT.

The enabler in me had crouched down to pet him while he rested, when from the road, I heard:

"FATASS!"

Since no one else was on the bike trail at that moment, and I could therefore make no other logical conclusion than he had been regarding me, I looked up. What greeted my eyes was a teen-age male, holding a very large beverage with a Sonic logo on it, rolling by in his pick-up truck.

My first thought was, "Wow."

My second thought was, "Dude, screw you. I'm awesome."

That's the thing - here I was, being the one getting exercise, and he was the one spectating from a vehicle.

I was doing something - he was merely the critic. It reminded me of a favorite quote of mine; part of which in engraved on a tiny paper weight that a family member gave me many years ago.

"It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat." - Theodore Rosevelt; April 1910

Because that is what matters, in diabetes and in life. It matters that you're in the arena, and you're trying.

So screw them - you're awesome.

Lift and Shake.

Tip of the day:

If you're wearing a black shirt and manage to sprinkle some glucose tab dust onto it, do yourself a favor and lift the shirt to shake the powder off. Don't bat, flick, or rub.

It just makes things worse.

Not my actual shirt.

Billy Corgin: The Movie?

I am swiftly becoming a crazy dog lady.

Tune In And Comment.

There are a couple of very important things happening today, and I hope you'll consider engaging in one or both.

First, today is day two of the U.N. Summit on non-communicable diseases (NCDs), and the United Nations website has a live webcast going. I tuned in yesterday while I was at work (sound only), and I thought it was definitely worth the listen. That makes me either super nerdy or an engaged stakeholder in the future of diabetes care - either way, I'm okay with it. Head over to the webcast by clicking here. Note: you may need to click on a different "channel" than the one it defaults to - so watch out for that, and the webcast doesn't begin until 10:00am EST, so don't panic if you tune in and it's just video of an empty chair. :) (And if you missed Monday's sessions - good news! The U.N. archives their webcasts, so you can go back and watch whatever interests you.)

And second, today is the LAST DAY you can submit comments to the FDA regarding the Low-Glucose Suspend device (the first step in the Artificial Pancreas Project). Comments are due at 11:59pm TODAY. My friend Bernard wrote a great post about this already, and I hope you'll consider sharing your own thoughts with the FDA on why this technology needs to be pushed through the approval process as expediently as possible. As a fellow advocate says, "This is truly the absolute best way to have your voice heard and to be part of the regulatory process at FDA. When you submit comments, they are taken very seriously. Each and every comment is read, and all comments become part of the federal register. Your comments, if you submit them, become part of the file that each member of the committee receives, along with all of the data, statistics, information about trials, and all of the medical documentation. What I'm trying to say is that your comments are very powerful, and could possibly (and they have done so in the past) sway the decision of some of the members of the committee."

Make your voice heard!

Football And Diabetes.

This past Saturday's activities reminded me of one more "Awkward Moment With Diabetes"...

...trying to do a blood test, without dropping anything, while smushed into a stadium with 85,000 other football fans.

And if you're wondering what the heck is on that guy's head in the middle of the front row, it's one of these.

My Mind Casserole.

When someone asks me a question about something I have had a lot of thoughts about, I don't consistently come up with the "best" thing to say on the spot.

And when I say "best", I'm referring to the moment several minutes (or hours) later when I decide, "God, why didn't I say ___?" I tend to think and rethink the conversation, mulling over things I *could* have said, or things I *should* have brought up.

I don't know why this is, or what pattern dictates its occurrence. Sometimes I nail it, but sometimes... not. Sometimes I say exactly what I mean in the exact way I want it conveyed, and sometimes I totally muck it up (in my opinion, anyway - no one else knows that I'm second-guessing those particular responses).

There tends to be so many things I want to share about whatever that topic is - and how do I choose? All of the bits of information I've collected about it have melded together in my brain to form some sort of cranial casserole that makes sense to me, but trying to isolate just the eggs or salt at this point is pretty challenging.

Let's take, for example, the question I'm likely to get this Sunday as I work at the Government Relations booth at the JDRF Walk: "What does an advocate do?"

It's such a big question, with so many right answers. Advocating can be sharing your own story, thoughts, feelings about what life with diabetes is like to the people in your life. Advocating can be bringing that story to policy makers and community leaders. Advocating can be speaking up to the media; writing letters, emails and memes; making phone calls; writing blog posts. Advocating can be wearing a blue pin. It can be so many things.

What I hope is that I can convey that to the people who approach the table this Sunday, willing to hear me out. I hope I can be a good advocate for advocacy. (Um, this is getting really meta.)

What I also need to remember is that concern over saying the "right" thing shouldn't prevent me from saying anything in the first place.

And I hope that it doesn't prevent you, either.