Looking Back - Oven Mitts . . .

****  Today I’m revisiting a post from a few years ago, in which I realized just how calloused my poor little finger tips are.  And yes, I still do feel guilty for all those times I called my husband a wimp when he complained things were too hot touch!! ****

During the summer, we do a lot of cooking on the grill.  Okay, by “we” I mean Pete.  I don’t actually step near the grill.  Although I do prep the food so that makes it a “we” effort, right?  I usually wrap our vegetables in foil packets in an attempt to have Pete cook our entire dinner outside on the grill during those sweltering days of summer.  When we try to unwrap them, hot off the grill, Pete always complains about the foil burning his fingers.  I usually call him a wimp and unwrap them with my bare hands.

The other day, we went to Starbucks.  I grabbed a seat to check my blood sugar while Pete ordered our coffees.  As he brought them over, he said they were so hot they were burning him and went off to get us those thermal sleeve thingies.  Call me pig-headed, but I had to see how hot the paper coffee cup really was.  And it wasn’t hot at all.  Wimp!!


Cue the guilt-music.  Now re-read the paragraph above.  Especially the line about checking my blood sugar.  You see, I test between 8 and 12 times every day.  I’ve realized that the scar tissue I’ve developed on my poor over-pricked fingers are my permanent little oven-mitts.  And the perhaps my husband isn't such a wimp after all.  Sorry, Sweetpea!

Wordless Wednesday - Anniversary

Our first date was 14 years ago today.  Our wedding was 9 years ago today.  I don’t know what I’d do without my favorite Type 3.  Happy anniversary, Sweetpea!!

My Type 3

Early in the spring of 1999 I met someone who really caught my eye.  I was pretty sure nothing would ever come of it because of our age difference . . . . he’s six years younger than me.  But I slipped my number to him anyway.  No . . .  actually . . . . I was way too shy to slip him my number - instead a mutual friend gave it to him for me.  Later that week he called me.  And thirteen years ago today we went on our first date.


In September of 1999 we spent a long weekend in Maine.  On that trip, I told him about diabetes.  He didn’t know anything about diabetes.  To be honest, there was a lot I didn’t know too.  But over the years we’ve learned so much together and he’s helped me time and time again.

Eight years ago today, exactly five years to the day of our first date, we were married.


It was the best day of my life.  I’m so grateful to have the best Type 3 a girl could wish for.  He helps me stay motivated, he gets me juice boxes, he takes care of me when I can’t take care of myself.  But beyond that, he is my best friend and my favorite person.  He’s just as silly and warped as I am.  He's met most of my DOC friends and he counts them as his friends too.  He loves me more than I ever thought possible, and I love him the same right back.  He can’t know what it’s really like to live with diabetes, and I can’t know what it’s really like to be on the outside looking in diabetes-wise.  But we each do our best to help the other understand.  I’m so grateful for all he does for me.  And I know he’s grateful for all I do to make sure we are together for a good long time, despite diabetes.



Happy Anniversary, Pete!!  I  love you!

Force of habit . . .

Last night I was out for a dinner meeting.  (More to come on this, we’re working on something I’m excited about.)  Pete was left to fend for himself for dinner and decided to cook up some ravioli.  And when I got home and looked at our memo board, I had to laugh.

Click to enlarge!!

Even though I wasn’t home and wouldn’t be eating the ravioli, he worked out the carb count!  Silly boy, he can eat all the carbs he wants.  (Such a show off with his working pancreas.)

And yes, we need to stick the E-Z-Pass to the windshield of the not-so-new car.  And we’re out of Triple Sec for Pizza and Martini Fridays.

Oven Mitts

During the summer, we do a lot of cooking on the grill.  Okay, by “we” I mean Pete.  I don’t actually step near the grill.  Although I do prep the food so that makes it a “we” effort, right?  I usually wrap our vegetables in foil packets in an attempt to have Pete cook our entire dinner outside on the grill during those sweltering days of summer.  When we try to unwrap them, hot off the grill, Pete always complains about the foil burning his fingers.  I usually call him a wimp and unwrap them with my bare hands.

The other day, we went to Starbucks.  I grabbed a seat to check my blood sugar while Pete ordered our coffees.  As he brought them over, he said they were so hot they were burning him and went off to get us those thermal sleeve thingies.  Call me pig-headed, but I had to see how hot the paper coffee cup really was.  And it wasn’t hot at all.  Wimp!!



Cue the guilt-music.  Now re-read the paragraph above.  Especially the line about checking my blood sugar.  You see, I test between 8 and 12 times every day.  I’ve realized that the scar tissue I’ve developed on my poor over-pricked fingers are my permanent little oven-mitts.  And the perhaps my husband isn't such a wimp after all.  Sorry, Sweetpea!

June 26th

June 26th is one of my favorite days of the year.  On June 26, 1999 Pete and I went on our first date.  And on June 26th, 2004, Pete and I became husband and wife.

Happy Anniversary, SweetPea!!!

Happy Anniversary, Sweetpea!

Ten years ago today, Pea and I went on our first date.

Five years ago today, we were married.

I wonder how I ever got along without him. He's my biggest supporter and my best friend.  We laugh, we dance, we share.  And I can't wait to see what the next five years will bring!

In Case of Emergency . . .

I'm really good at planning. I can't help it. It's part of my nature. Or maybe it's just been ingrained in me after all my years with diabetes. But in any case, my head is always swirling with plans and lists, back-up plans, and In Case of Emergency plans.

With some surprise, I realized there is one part of my life that has been seriously under-planned for. Pump site changes. Don't get me wrong, I always have plenty of supplies available to change a site whenever and wherever I may be. But what would happen if, for some reason, I couldn't change my site out on my own. The chances of being too sick to change my site are slim, because I think if I was that sick, I'd be in the hospital anyway. But what if a knitter's worst night-mare happened, and I broke my arm or something. (Yes, in the case of a broken arm, I worry about the knitting before the diabetes. I can't help it.) I don't think I could do a one-armed site change.

I've mentioned this to Pea over the past few days. Since we'll have four days together over the Thanksgiving break, I want him to do a site change for me. From start to end. To make sure that he could if I needed him to. He doesn't want to do it. He's afraid of doing it wrong or hurting me. I don't think he could really mess it up, and I'm not afraid of a little pain. I think it's more important to be sure that, In Case of Emergency, he could help me.

Do you have someone who is ready to do your site changes if you needed them to? Have you long-time pumpers ever been in a situation where someone had to change you site out for you? Is it worth forcing Pea to do one, even if he's really uncomfortable at the thought?

Meet my biggest supporter

One of the most important things I've learned over my years with diabetes is this:

It helps so much to have people in your life to pick you up and cheer you on when things get tough. Things will get tough. Not always, but sometimes. And that's when you really need people you can count on to keep you going.

Hands down, my biggest supporter is my husband - whom I call Sweetpea on my knitting blog . . . . and in Real Life . . . . and now here. I figured it was about time he was properly introduced, since I'm sure I'll be referring to him often.

I met my Sweetpea in 1999 (see #2 here if you want the details). We went on our first date on June 26, 1999, and six months later he took a job 3 hours away. I understood why he needed to go, but I was insistent that I would not, could not, do the long distance thing. Until the decision was made that he would be moving. Then I decided to give it a try.

We saw each other only on weekends for three long years. Then he moved back, and soon after we got engaged. We were married on June 26, 2004 - five years to the day of our first date.

Pea is the best thing in my life. He encourages me to no end. When the stress of my old job was becoming too much for my blood sugar to handle, he didn't hesitate to crunch numbers and put together budgets so we could get me out of there. And as I continue to try to figure out what I want to be "when I grow up", he is nothing but patient and supportive. He finds me "treats" when I'm too low. He encourages us both to eat a very healthy diet. He gently nudges me to test at the first sign of crankiness (and quite often, there is a low I didn't feel. Although, many times I'm just cranky by nature!) He would do anything he can to keep me healthy - and that really helps on those days where it just feels not worth the trouble.

He's pretty cute too!!!

Hey, what's that he's pouring into the glass? I think we need a closer look, no?

They look yummy, don't they?? What you see there are the Frozen Strawberry Daiquiris Pea whipped up the other night from our 375 Sensational Splenda Recipes cookbook. No sugar (besides what occurs in the unsweetened frozen strawberries), only 7 grams of carbs per serving, and so yummy that I no longer have to miss Strawberry Daiquiris! And what did Pea think about them?

Yup, he liked 'em just as much as I did!!!