Last Day of NaBloPoMo and I'm Cheating

..*[ABC's OF YOU]*...

[A] is for AMOUNT of money in your wallet: I don't have any cash. Who carries cash? Isn't that why the debit card was invented?

[B] is for BEER of choice: beer makes me want to vomit.

[C] is for CAR you drive: redish 94 Nissan Sentra (but not for long! damn broken seatbelt alarm that honks at me spontaneously while I'm driving).

[D] is for DUMBEST thing you've done lately: not only did I think we didn't have Power Point on my parent's computer, thus rendering me unable to do the presentation, we *had* it and I just couldn't *find* it.

[E] is for most EXPENSIVE gift you've received: My college education isn't really a gift, I guess, but it's the most expensive thing my parents have purchased for me. Second to that is my pump, also not really a gift.

Honestly, I think my set of luggage was the most expensive "gift" they bought for me. Yes, luggage. For Christmas last year. Don't worry, I asked for it.

[F] is for FARTHEST place from home you've been: Paris, France.

[G] is for GOAL you would like to achieve before you die: My friend who did this survey before me wrote "sex." And you know, as a 21-year-old virgin, sex is definitely high on my list of things to accomplish before I die.

But for the sake of being classy, I will say my goal is to travel to Israel during either Easter/Passover or Christmas. Probably Easter.

[H] is for color of your HAIR: Brown. I'm as brunette as you can get.

[I] is for 3 ITEMS in the room you're in right now: I'm at work, so a computer, a telephone and way too much paper.

[J] is for JACKET you wear the most: My tan peacoat from Gap.

[K] is for names for your KIDS: I don't have children (obviously, see "G"). But I like the name Sage for my first child, boy or girl. That's really about as far as I've gone.

[L] is for LAST person you kissed: My mom.

[M] is for MEMORY from your childhood: Playing make-believe with my friend Jenny in my room.

[N] is for time you go to bed at NIGHT: right about 11. Any later and I simply can't get up for work.

[O] is for OLDEST thing you own: The china in the china cabinet. It belonged to my great-grandma.

[P] is for PERSON you would like to meet: Everyone from the O.C.! And Jesus.

[Q] is for what you are the QUEEN of: the O.C., apparently.

[R] is for ROOM you're in right now: my cubicle on the 3rd floor of the Portland World Trade Center.

[S] is for STATES you've been to: Washington, Oregon, California, Montana, Minnesota, Illinois, New York, Pennsylvania, Washington D.C., Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, Florida.

[T] is for TIME it is right now: 12:32 p.m.

[U] is for the color of your UMBRELLA: I don't own one. I'm an Oregonian. Umbrellas are for wimps and Californians.

[V] is for worst music VIDEO you've seen lately: "Buttons" by the Pussycat Dolls. I loathe them.

[W] is for WHERE you want to live when you grow up: NYC area.

[X] is for number of X-RAYS you've had: Just one on my foot, plus the dental ones.

[Y] is for favorite game you played when you were YOUNG: Life!

[Z] is for ZOO you've visited: Portland Zoo and San Diego Wild Animal Park.

Sassy But Sucky

I tried writing how I'm feeling right now but the words are coming to me without sounding really pathetic.

I was supposed to work on a PowerPoint presentation that I left to the last minute, then ended up not being able to do because I didn't think we had PowerPoint, and another teammate got annoyed so now she's doing it and I feel awful because we actually do have PowerPoint, it's just on a different part of the computer.

And the voting on the Design and Dazzle contest is a nightmare because people are voting like 60 times when they can only vote once so Heather (my wonderful webmaster) is spending all her time today deleting duplicate votes.

She's mad. My classmates are mad. I'm the one responsible for both of them.

Oh, and if you want to know my true feeling about the DiabetesBlogNetwork, I'm ignoring them until they go away. I've worked countless hours on the O.C. website and they swoop in saying they're going to be the next hub of action for a diabetes community. Well fine.

I'm a bitter, angry girl right now. And I haven't even had breakfast yet.

Nice way to kick of my Wednesday morning.

At least my blood sugar is 116 mg/dl.

The Truth is Revealed.

"I like you because you are a sassy pants" -- Mr. George Simmons.

Who? Me?

Oops...

So I screwed up my NaNoBloMo run... and I was doing so well. I'm almost a little heartbroken.

Almost.

I was going to go on and write last night when I went home to drop off my dad's laptop, but then we ended up spending an hour searching for hotels in New York City and Norwalk, CT.

Why were we searching for hotels in NYC and Norwalk?

BECAUSE I'M GOING THERE NEXT MARCH!!

WOOOOOHOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!

I'm just a little bit excited, can you tell?

Details to come much later, but I will be hitting up Norwalk, New York City and Philadelphia.

I originally thought about staying in NYC for the whole six nights. Uh, yeah, not at $180 a pop (and that's on the lower end of things). Sigh.

Anyway, if you're like me and wondering what you should be doing the last weekend of March, you should be planning on coming to NYC/CT to see ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And, you know, Kerri, and Violet maybe... and some other people who I think live around there...

I will keep you all posted on the stops for the East Coast Lemonade Tour as they develop. If you'd like to put in a request, please email me.

Attention O.C. Lovers!

ONE MORE WEEK TO NOMINATE YOUR FAVORITE BLOGGERS FOR THE O.C. BLOG CHOICE AWARDS. NOMINATIONS END PROMPTLY ON NOVEMBER 31ST.

NOMINEES WILL BE ANNOUNCED ON DECEMBER 1ST.

For more information and the nomination form,

visit the Official Diabetes O.C. Website.

An Experiment in Independence

Unlike most people who are spending the weekend traveling to the homes of family and friends for the holiday, I actually left my family for the weekend (don't worry, I went home for Thanksgiving dinner - I'm not that deliquent of a daughter).

A friend from my freshman year in college asked me if I would apartment-sit for her while she and her partner went down to California to see their families. Since they lives only twenty minutes away from my parents', I agreed.

This is quite an experience. I'm staying in their adorable, retro-style one-bedroom apartment with their two cats, Lola and Bug, and two bunnies, Jackie and Benson. Their apartment is located in the quaint historic Portland neighborhood, the Alphabet District (named because the streets are listed in alphabetical order from Ankeny to Wilson - it stops at W for some reason). The neighborhood is filled with gorgeous, well-maintained Victorian mansion and East Coast style apartment buildings. Well, I think they're East Coast style. A lot of brick. You guys have a lot of brick, right? The apartment is on "J" - Johnson, and is only 2 blocks away from one of Portland's most famous shopping districts, NW 23rd (a.k.a. "Trendy-third").

Sixteen blocks lined with outrageously expensive boutiques, gorgeous furniture stores, a Vespa store (I'm serious, an actual store next to a shoe store and Thai restaurant where you can buy Vespas!) classy restaurants, cheap bookstores, and two Starbucks. I spent the afternoon mulling around, popping in and out of shops at random. On Black Friday, I was committed to keeping as far away from a mall as possible. NW 23rd was pretty chill. It's always busy, since it's one of the nicest places to walk, shop and eat in Portland, but it wasn't a complete madhouse.

Now I'm sitting here in a cute coffeeshop with mural-painted walls, college students finishing school projects on their laptops (I blend right in), a goth kid with a black mohawk playing chess with a skinny forty-something man, and the whirling of the foam machine blending in with guitar harmonies, drum beats, and the melodic voice of a blond lady wearing a red dress, red fishnet stockings and black flats with ribbons tied at the ankles.

I would post pictures of all this, but I'm borrowing Father's really nice new black HP laptop ("you break, you buy it") and my camera's computer connection cord is still connected to my computer at home. So we'll have pictures on Sunday, when I go back to drop of the laptop before the workweek starts again.

I think I'm going to add a belated item to my list of things I'm thankful for. It's nice to have the opportunity to try living somewhere new for a few days, and especially with my impending move to Somewhere Else rapidly approaching, I need to brush up on my independent living strategies. So far so good.

Though I have to say, the more time I spend walking around the Alphabet District, seeing all those signs for "Apartments Available" hanging from brick apartment complexes that were built in the 1900s (hey, that's old for Oregon), the more I want to stay right here.

Oh decisions, decisions.

Happy Turkey Day!

I hope everyone is having a wonderful Thanksgiving with family and friends.

Eat lots of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, yams, cranberry sauce, salad, rolls, and whatever else you add to your festive table.

Remember, "the powers that be" in the diabetes community say you can splurge on special occassions.

And this, my friends, is a special occassion so have at it!

I don't normally do this but....

7:31 a.m. : 297 mg/dl (I'm PMSing, gimme a break). Correction bolus. Temp basal 120%.

8:00 a.m. : 1/2 blueberry muffin from home and small coffee from Peet's, 8 units of Symlin, meal bolus squared over 2 hours.

9:23 a.m. : 123 mg/dl.

12:02 pm. : 128 mg/dl.


Hells yes.

The S Factor

Considering some nasty lows that came from what the medical community seemed to regard as the "miracle drug" for diabetics, I'm surprised I stayed on it for as long as I did.

The drug left my blood sugars unpredictable, sometimes cresting evenly after a meal, sometimes skyrocketing to the high heavens, and sometimes crashing flat on my face.

It made exercising when I want to excruciating to figure out, and I could never quite figure out if I was giving the right amount.

So that's initially why I stopped taking it.

Symlin, you silly person, not insulin. I'm not that stupid.

At first, I liked Symlin. A1C dropped another .5% and I lost 5 lbs. But the shots stung like a bee biting my ass, and I had some lows that seemed to be moving in for winter.

I slowly but surely started forgetting to bring my Symlin with me to school. I was down to taking Symlin once a day, and even then, I wasn't sure if it was working.

Then I went on the DexCom and witnessed my blood sugar dropping 40 points post-prandial, after taking 10 units of Symlin but zero units of insulin. It only happened that one time, but after that, adios Symlin.

Until now.

So why am I returning to the Drug of Undeniable Annoyance?

Well, first there's the whole "rising post-prandial" blood sugars. Oh, who am I kidding, it's the whole "rising pre-and-post-and-everywhere-in-between-prandial" blood sugars.

That's a pretty good reason.

Then there's the "my stomach is seeing an awful lot of fresh air these days" reason. I thought moving home was going to make eating healthier easier, but after twenty-two years of cooking dinners, my family is pretty much set on eating Jack in the Box and Taco Bell at least once a week (that is, once for Jack in the Box, and once for Taco Bell).

And I'm sure the scones and muffins from Peet's aren't helping either.

I want to say these problems can be fixed with insulin, and I feel guilty thinking that I can't figure out some way of even faking control with insulin. But I'm bouncing so hard my stomach is doing cartwheels.

I'm hoping that by restarting Symlin I can knock down a few of these stratospheric postprandial highs.

They don't just hurt my eyes and my kidneys and my heart.
They hurt my soul too.

Tell Me Something Good

I was talking to Mr. G-Dawg about blogging. I was telling him how I didn't know what to blog about tonight because I've been blogging for nineteen straight days (today being #20) and gosh-darnit my life just isn't that interesting!

After telling the G-Man about my frustrations, he said, "I was thinking about blogging about why I blog."

"We know why you blog, George." I'm pretty sure you know why I blog, so we won't get into that.

Then I thought about a question a boy I used to know would ask me during my sophomore year in college.

"Tell me something good."

Sophomore year was a very hard year. I had roommate trouble, parent trouble, money trouble, school trouble, friend trouble, love trouble (did I mention this boy was the guy I was madly in love with?). It was the year I cut myself multiple times, it was the year I started smoking regularly and it was the year he broke my heart.

It was the year I was most angry with God.

There wasn't very much good I could think of.

But it's different now. Now, as a senior about to graduate from college (on time, might I add), I have a happy, healthy family (except for my brother who has pink eye - ouch), a job that feels like a calling, a solid education from a reputable school, a beautiful, awesome Saviour who loves me no matter what, a church where I finally feel like I belong, and while my list of friends may be small in number, they mean the world to me and I don't know where I would be without them.

With only six months left before graduation, I am very optimistic about my future and while the concerns of daily diabetes management could drag me down, I know I have so much more to live for. Cities to explore, people to meet, events to influence, and hopefully, someday, a child to raise.

Many suns will rise into the sky, and days I will conquer.

And then, of course, there's the O.C. How could I forget the O.C. The people who have made such a difference in how I view a community, how I view my own health and mental well-being, and who have allowed me the opportunity to spout my opinions in hopes of making some kind of useful impact.

No wonder sophomore year sucked so badly, it was before the O.C. was created! Now it all makes sense!

As for a "love interest," it would be nice, I suppose. But I don't feel that my life is missing any amount of love. Between God, my family, my Real Life friends, and my wonderful Imaginary Internet Weirdo friends, I feel very loved and that is a very good thing.

Now it's your turn: Tell me something good.

8:52 a.m. Edit: Stop giving me compliments about the O.C.! I already know that you love what I do! Tell me something good and new in your life! I'm not fishing for compliments and it completely defeats the purpose of my request to write about me. So please, please stop doing it.

Post-O-Matic

I swear Memes were invented for people too lazy to think of something to talk about.

(Ripped off from Julia and Kerri.)

Explain what ended your last relationship?
Last relationships? Nothing. Because I've never had a last relationship. Or a current one. But I'm hopeful for a future one.

When was the last time you shaved?
Last night. During the winter I shave about once a week.

What were you doing this morning at 8 a.m.?
Sound asleep.

What were you doing 15 minutes ago?

Checking to see if REBA was on (it wasn't, I missed it because I didn't know they changed the time) and showing my parents my new hoodie from Anthrolopologie that I bought for $4. That's right. Single digit. Thank God for a clearance item on sale with an $18 gift card. It was practically free.

Are you any good at math?
No. I haven't taken a math class since my junior year in high school for a reason.

Your prom night, what do you remember about it?
I went with my very good friend, Daniel, who I met at diabetes camp. He went to another high school, but I didn't have a boyfriend or any reasonable prospects at my school, so I asked him if he would come with me. He wore a tuxedo. We went to a nice dinner and just laughed and joked around and then we went to the prom at the Zoo. Yes, we had our prom at the zoo. Unfortunately they didn't let the penguins come dance with us, but I think that would have been pretty funny.

Do you have any famous ancestors?
Not that I'm aware of.

Have you had to take a loan out for school?
Yes, but my parents are paying for college so while I technically took out a loan, I don't have to pay it back.

Last thing received in the mail?
My paycheck from my internship at PGE.

How many different beverages have you had today?
Four. Orange juice with breakfast since I was 85 mg/dl, a Peppermint Mocha at Peet's, a diet soda at Pizza Schmizza and a Thai Iced Tea at some Thai restaurant in Portland.

Do you ever leave messages on people’s answering machine?
Of course, but I leave really long ones. I tend to start off with "Hey, it's me" since I'm assuming they saw on their caller ID that I called and I usually do this with people I know. If it's someone I don't know that well I'll say "Hey it's Allison." Then I'll go into this really long rambling discussion of what I want to talk to them, giving them detailed choices or instructions and then telling them to call me, email me, IM me, message me on Facebook or comment on Livejournal (I'm seriously the easiest person in the world to get a hold of). I frequently am cut off by the voicemail lady saying I've run out of time and then I have to re-record the entire message, only faster.

Who did you lose your CONCERT virginity to?
No Doubt and Garbage. 2002.

Do you draw your name in the sand when you go to the beach?
Of course! Who doesn't? It's classic, it's romantic, it's fun. Oh that's right, Julia doesn't. Loser. :-P

What’s the most painful dental procedure you’ve had?
Getting my wisdom teeth out. Oh dear God.

What is out your back door?
A huge deck, a waterfall, two lawns, and lots of trees. Yeah, my backyard pretty much kicks ass.

Any plans for Friday night?
I am housesitting for my friend Cori and she lives in Northwest Portland in a very chic neighborhood, so I'm sure I'll find something fun to do.

Do you like what the ocean does to your hair?
Makes it all crazy frizzy because Oregon beaches are windy. Like knock-you-down-sideways windy.

Have you ever received one of those big tins of 3 different popcorns?
Yes. I find them simply wonderful and awful for my blood sugars.

Have you ever been to a planetarium?
I've been to one, in Philadelphia.

Do you re-use towels after you shower?
At school, yes, because I usually forget that I need to get a clean one so I'll use the same one for much longer than is probably hygenic. At home, yes, because my mother yells at me for being wasteful if I don't.

Some things you are excited about?
Traveling, seeing friends and family, meeting someone I respect for the first time, free diabetes products that people send me (more on this later).

What is your favorite flavor of JELL-O?
I try not to eat Jello because of the gelatin, even though I really like pudding. Ground horsehoofs aside (I'm sorry, that's what it is!), I don't really like the texture so I try to avoid it at all cost. I try to limit my intake of gummy candy as well.

Describe your keychain(s)?
Buffy car key, Groovy Mobile car key, bike lock keys (which I technically don't need anymore since my bike was stolen), house key, a Chinese jade keychain that my friend Jing bought me for my 20th birthday, and a MiniPak keychain from Pump Wear Inc. that holds candy or glucose tabs (see aforementioned list of things I'm excited about).

Where do you keep your change?
A plastic sandwich bag.

When was the last time you spoke in front of a large group of people?
At the World Diabetes Day presentation at Lewis and Clark last Tuesday.

What kind of winter coat do you own?
A tan peacoat from Gap.

What was the weather like on your graduation day?
Sunny and warm, I think. At least sunny, since we have pictures, but I don't recall the temperature. Though technically the ceremony was at night, so by then I imagine it was quite cool.

Do you sleep with the door to your room open or closed?
Closed. Emma is not allowed in my room at night because she makes too much noise.

Introducing Ms. Emma Furbutts

Art has Friday Cat Blogging Day.

Rachel has Sunday Cat Blogging Day.

Kerri has Whenever-Sausage-Does-Something-Ridiculously-Adorable Cat Blogging Day.

So I'm claiming Saturday as Emma Cat Blogging Day.

Emma Furbutts (a.k.a. Chub Chubs and Terror Kitty - and you thought the nickname "Sausage" was bad) is my family's cat. She's three and a half years old and we adopted her from a kitty foster care service. We named her Avis, the Rent-a-Kitty. We originally were going to keep her for just three weeks, but Mom loved her sooo much she just couldn't give her back. Once we officially adopted her, Mom made us change her name to something more appropriate.

Little did we know how crazy she is. Emma rarely likes being touched unless she's in the right mood. She can go from calm and playful to attack mode in a flash. She likes to sharpen her claws on our living room furniture, she gets cat hair everywhere (hence the towel on our living room chair) and sometimes goes bounding around the house likes she's running a marathon. We have no idea what Emma is chasing or why, but she does it.

Une, Deux, Trois...

Three Things I Do Every Day: Check e-mail. Read a blog. Play with my cat, Emma.

Three Things I Wish I Could Do Every Day: Accomplish something important. Feel well-rested. Fly.

Three Hopes I Have for Today: That my drive home will be short and sweet. That my thigh doesn't keep hurting, forcing me to rip out yet another infusion set. That it says sunny for just awhile longer (our seven-month long dark, gray, rainy winters basically make me want to kill myself. Not really, but kind of.)

Three Things I Hear: Steve talking on the phone. Scott laughing on the phone. Mark going clickity-clack on his keyboard.

Three Ways I Have Changed my Life: Applied for JDRF's Children's Congress three days before the deadline. Went to college. Moved into The House in Eugene and promptly met Annie.

Three People I Wish I Could See Again: Dr. Hansen, Mr. Othus, Darcee.

Three Items I Wish I Owned: A car that has air conditioning and a radio that doesn't squeal when it's on the wrong frequency, an amazing little black dress, and a CGMS that is accurate.

Three Wishes I Had When I Was Young: To be a writer, to travel a lot, and probably to be famous. I've done pretty decent on all accounts.

Three Fears I Have: The death of anyone I love, my knees being touched, never finding someone to fall in love with.

Three Things on My Desk: Lots of paper, four pens, a two cans of diet soda.

Three Thoughts in My Mind: "I really hope this set lasts three days." "I wonder how long I can look at blogs before someone notices." "I really wish it was winter break."

Tag! You're It!

Isn't My Blog Purty?

You know, I have to admit it.

My blog is looking pretty damn hot right now.

Most of the time when you accidentally delete something it is the worst thing that could possibly happen.

Like losing forty pages of a novel. Or your homework assignment that's due in three hours. Or a blog post that you've been crafty for hours with all kinds of witty remarks and classy inuendos.

Then poof! It's gone.

But this time, I'm okay with the poof!iness of my blog template, because I'm really liking this green. I don't know why I didn't try it out sooner.

I've also added some more graphics to the side because I think graphics make things more interesting. More color and pa-zazz!

I like putting action words in italics.

(Friday morning edit: Ok, so it was so late last night that I couldn't quite remember what comic book hero I was trying to think of, but then I realized I really wanted to write "that old Batman television series where they put the action in BIG YELLOW writing on the screen, like we somehow needed help understanding what the sounds were." So here's my clarification.)



Yoink!

Bam!

Zap!

Whizzz!

Oh the joy of writing late-at-night blog posts.

Sorry I can't provide anything more interesting or thoughtful tonight. I'm just not in that kind of mood.

Motivation

(I would like to state for the record that the reason this blog post is late in going up is not because I didn't write it on time, it's because the g*d-d**n-f***ing Blogger wouldn't post last night! Sigh.)

Have you ever looked at the day, or the week, or the month or maybe your whole life and wondered exactly what all your time was spent doing?

That's how I feel lately.

I spend all this time at work. I spend all this time at school. I spend all this time at home. And yet, I don't really feel like I've done a heck of a whole lot lately. I haven't really written anything in several weeks. I haven't read a book in months. It takes me ages to send off interview questions these days. I haven't been to the gym since the summer.

I have no idea what I do anymore. I mean, I know the little things I do. But they all seem little.

I update the O.C. with a couple new blogs. Check.

I answer an email about work. Check.

I test my blood sugar. Check, check, check, check and check.

I chat with friends online. Check.

I write a press release or some random in-class assignment that has no bearing whatsoever on anything. Check.

I read blogs. A lot. Check a dozen times.

I'm really not sure if I'm asking a question or if I'm simply venting about a fleeting life. I just feel like I'm doing a lot of busywork with school and my internship and spending two hours everyday in a car. I don't know how to motivate myself to be more productive. To finally stop saying "I should clean my room" or "I should write that article" or "I should do this or that."

It's really my own fault, I guess. But I suppose it's like a lot of things in our lives. We see it. We know it. We acknowledge it. And then we turn around and pretend it doesn't exist, even when it's standing right next to us, tapping its foot and clearing its throat.

Happy World Diabetes Day!

Yeah, saying Happy World Diabetes Day just doesn't have quite the same ring to it as "Happy Thanksgiving" or "Happy New Year."

I attended a World Diabetes Day event that was held at a local college tonight. I was able to spent some time chatting with my friends from diabetes camp for a bit and meet some new friends with diabetes, which is always nice. Might have a new project in the works... That's so typical of me. I say I'm satisfied with my workload and then I go to an event and get roped into working on another project. Eventually I'm just going to have to start handing out my resume when people ask, "So, what do you do?" because there simply won't be enough time.

Clare Rosenfeld, my friend who started the Unite for Campaign with her mom, then mentioned that at camp my nickname was "Almighty Goddess of Correspondence." It's really didn't hit me until tonight when I was listing off all these different diabetes resources to a young woman that I know that I indeed do know everyone, or at least know of them. My email address book as over 300 people listed.

I am never, ever changing email addresses.

It was very exciting to share diabetes with a whole new group of people who have never been exposed to the disease. As much as we get sick of explaining diabetes yet again, it's forums like this that are exciting to me because these people really want to know what's going on with the global diabetes epidemic. We had at least forty people come to the lecture on the global diabetes epidemic and the UN Resolution and Q&A that my friends from camp held and it was really nice that so many people are taking an active interest in this subject. So often I feel like I have to beat people over the head with why diabetes is important and why they need to help the cause. It was nice that for once people were genuinely curious.

I hope that this event and the others that were held around the world today really shape the way our political leaders view diabetes and that it will both save lives by providing the needed education and medication and by funding the research needed to find a cure.

One focus of the Unite for Campaign is the petition to pass a UN Resolution on diabetes. The Resolution, for those who haven't heard about it, will allow the thousands of diabetes organizations in developing countries to have legitimacy in asking for assistance in providing education and treatment. It will recognized diabetes as a serious global threat.

The petition has already garned 11,000 signatures in just two weeks, and there is still time to make your voice heard. I hope that you are all supporting the Unite for Diabetes Campaign by signing the petition - and if you haven't, why the heck not?

Clare told us that the Ambassador to the U.N. is actively looking at the number of people signing the petition. He will see it if the numbers go up! The more people who sign it, the more he will know that this is an issue he cannot just ignore, and if the United States signs this Resolution, then more countries will sign the Resolution, and if we have more countries signing the Resolution then we will reach the 97 (our of 192) countries that we need to pass the Resolution.

The World Heath Organization has already declared that diabetes is a bigger global health threat than AIDS, but we are still silent. The Resolution will give us our voice at the U.N. next year on November 14, where we can go to the General Assembly and tell our story to not just our media and our government, but to the entire world.

And that indeed will be a happy World Diabetes Day.

OK Go! Go! Go!

You will never look at a treadmill the same.

The Days Between Friday and Monday

Also known as The Weekend. Which I'm sure you all are just dying to hear about... weirdos...

Things that make me Happy:

• Sneaking a veggie sandwich, side pasta salad and a Diet Raspberry Iced Tea into the movie theater so I could sit in dark silence for two hours while I watch Wil Ferrall have a ridiculously hilarious "ohmygodIcoulddieatanymoment" crisis.
  
• Playing with my kitty, Emma. Who is ridiculously fat and stupid. But cute.
  
• Being quite pleased with myself to discover I have outwitted my insurance company into giving me test strips for three months when they think they're paying for one month (I ordered the amount thinking they were giving me boxes of 50. They're giving me boxes of 100). Take that, bitch.
  
• Sitting at home watching reruns of Laguna Beach and E! reality TV shows.
• My pastor, Rick, encouraging us to spend money thoughtfully this Christmas so its spent economically and meaningfully. Then we'll have money leftover to donate to a multi-church offering. Donations will go to a non-profit organizations locally and internationally. Yes, I know it's November. He's going on sabbatical for three months and he won't be here. So we had to do the Christmas sermon now.
• I found black pants with pockets! Now I can wear my pump at work and not stash it between my boobs. Holy cheese and crackers!!!
• Volunteering at the Ronald McDonald and playing with a cute baby.
  
• Only two more terms until I graduate! TWO MORE TERMS!! YAAAAAAY!!!!
  

Things that make me Sad:

• The Cute Baby has kidney problems because her uterus is on the outside of her body. Eeek! She wears a drip of medication to fight infections, somewhat like a pump. Her cord and my cord were identical. So sad... ::sniff:: But did I mention she was a cute baby?
  
• I have to work tomorrow. Blech.
  
• Drizzle. Rain. Downpour. Wet hair. Squeaky shoes. Damp shirt. Goshdarnittoheck! I HATE the rain. WHY did I have to be born in Oregon?
  
• Circling the freaking parking lot at the mall looking for a spot. The sales weren't even that good!
  
• Waking up with the set inside me, the tubing attached to the set, but not so much with the resevoir. Ugh. "Why good morning, Mr. 425 mg/dl. How nice to see you."
  
• Missing a phone call to play pool at a bar with my friend, Jane because my phone was still on silent from the movie.
  
• Only two more terms until I graduate! TWO MORE TERMS!! AAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

Also of Importance:

Calling all Young Evangelical Christian Treehuggers! Would you like to take part in saving God's creation? (I'll give you a hint: the answer is Yes). My church is supporting a new initiative called the Evangelical Youth Climate Initiative. Their website states:

Young Christians committed to Jesus Christ are deeply concerned about the degradation of God's creation and about the "least of these" in peril around the world as a result of global warming pollution. We accept our responsibility to examine our generation's role in pursuing solutions, and to consider the impact on our own lives.

They currently have a petition at their website where young evangelicals (teens and twentysomethings, I guess, I couldn't find an age requirement, so probably any Christian could sign it) can show their support towards stopping global warming and other environments concerns. This petition will be delivered to members of Congress in Washington D.C. this Thursday, November 16. If you are a Christian and support saving the world that God gave us as a gift, then I encourage you to visit Evangelical Climate Initiative to show your support.

Thank you!

I'm Not Going to Ruin My 10 Day Blogging Streak...

... just because I made the declaration yesterday that I'm not going to be on the internet on the weekends anymore.

That would just be silly and irresponsible.

So I'm going to make this short and sweet. It's something I've been meaning to tell you all about this week, but with the emotional roller-coaster we've all been dealing with this week, I just never found the time.

Anyway, my big announcement is the Design & Dazzle Contest being held at Diabetes Teen Talk. Anyone between the ages of 12 and 22 can decorate their pump case, meter case or diabetes bag and send in a digital photograph. The top ten best designs will be voted on at the end of November for a chance to win a video iPod (thanks to dLife!). Five runner up teens will receive $25 gift certificate to iTunes or Borders Books & Music.

The deadline to turn in your photographs is November 24, so I wanted to make sure I posted about the contest this weekend. If you or someone you know is between the age of 12 and 22, I encourage you to submit a photograph! It's so much fun to finally have a piece of diabetes paraphernalia that I can be proud of.

OK, see you tomorrow night!

A Self-Diagnosis

Hello, my name is Allison and I'm a workaholic.

I have a unique form of the disease called "diabetadvocosis." It's symptoms include at least two or more of the following:

- spending too much time reading diabetes blogs; checking and rechecking message boards for new messages;

- Googling the word "diabetes," "diabetes advocacy" or "diabetes research" at least once a day;

- doing background checks on anyone associated with diabetes;

- checking email before you have brushed your teeth to find out if your interviewee has sent his answers;

- staying up until 2 a.m. writing your dream list of diabetes researchers you'd like to interview (number one: Dr. Melton; number two: Dr. Brownlee; number three: Dr. Ricordi);

- when a new person asks you what you do in your freetime, your only answer (without lying) is: "Write about life with diabetes, read about diabetes research, argue about diabetes research, write long dissertations about the research on diabetes message boards, check diabetes message boards repeatedly for responses, volunteer at events to fund diabetes research, and mentor people about how not to go completely psycho from diabetes" (please note the irony in the aforementioned statement).

If you or someone you know has two or more of these symptoms, you may have Diabetadvocosis.

Luckily, there is treatment.

First, you must completely disconnect yourself from all mention of diabetes outside of the context of your own healthcare for approximately 2 hours everyday and for approximately 24-48 hours every weekend.

Which is what I will be doing from now on.

After checking Diabetes Teen Talk's message board on Saturday morning, I will be completely disconnected from my computer until Sunday evening after dinner, when I will check the message board once more.

I'll stay online for as long as necessary during the week to complete all my various assignments from people, but I am reclaiming my weekend.

I hope this will help me recover from a unique case of diabetes burnout, which involves people who not only take care of diabetes 24/7, but seem to talk about it 24/7.

I also hope it lasts longer than my little 100 day experiment, which really wasn't much of an experiment because I was still reading blogs, still updating my blog just not specifically about diabetes all the time, still checking my message board and still talking about diabetes all the time. The only thing I didn't do, really, was actively update a website.

I really need this to work. More than getting my late morning blood sugars down, more than waking up above 80 mg/dl, more than getting more exercise or not eating so many of those damn delicious Chips Ahoy cookies, I really need my life to look like a life, not a disease.

Cross your fingers. ::crosses fingers::

Strength

On my website, Diabetes Teen Talk, I invite teens to send in their responses to questions I pose about living with diabetes. One question is about dealing with obstacles and how to overcome them. One teen wrote,

"Life is what you make of it and I am making mine memorable. I do not want to look down on life and wish things were different, because that is not who I am. I am special. I love my life. Taking shots several times a day is annoying, but cool. You get recognized for what you are doing. More and more people are starting to learn about diabetes and I believe that is what we need to get closer to a cure. Hope is the only thing we can give."

I love this quote because I feel that it completely incapsulates everything that the Diabetes Online Community is about.

We are here, together although many miles from each other, to share something so personal that most people only share it with their close friends and family: our life.

It is amazing that we as individuals can be so bold about something so fragile as the tangled emotions living with diabetes weaves in our heart. It astounds me everyday to read the published fears, and secrets, and joys, and frustrations and hope that the people of the O.C. share everyday.

Today is no different. Today, like so many other days, we sit down, write and validate the thoughts, the actions, the feelings that we all experience everyday.

Sometimes I wonder if it some secret power we are given when we or someone we love is diagnosed with a chronic illness. Is it because we view the chronic illness as such an insurmountable obstacle that we throw down all concern for what some stranger might think so that we might survive to see another day?

I believe I share more about my challenges in life with you, people I have never met (yet), than I do with most of my close friends and family.

We have such pride in our lives, though. You can see it in the way we speak of our children. The way we speak of our friends and our lovers. The way we speak of our accomplishments and our dreams. The way we speak of those who have changed our lives.

The way we stomp our feet in protest against Diabetes ruining a damn thing.

I am very proud of my life and I'm very proud of the lives of all of you, my Fine Blogging Friends and Resident Lurkers.

We are special people. We lead extraordinary, brave, frightening, ridiculously hilarious and quite possibly the strangest lives of any group of people I know. I mean, seriously, the kinds of things that happen to us on a regular basis are the stuff of movies. Or Reality TV. Perhaps Mr. Chris should pitch a show to MTV about a group of diabetics living in some posh apartment in a Big City, working together to climb out of the emotional wreckage to create a life of love, opportunity, excitement and laughter.

Now that would be a show worth watching.

"More and more people are starting to learn about diabetes and I believe that is what we need to get closer to a cure," she says.

This is true. It is true because we are no longer afraid to stand up and say, "I have diabetes and this is what it means."


We no longer allow the doctors and the politicians to dictate our lives. I know what diabetes is and what it means to me and I am here to tell you about it. Perhaps I can begin to dictate to the politicians and the doctors what their lives should be about: finding a cure. And fast.

But I disagree with her that hope is the only thing we can give. I think we can give much more than hope.

We can give information. We can give experience. We can give kindness. We can give understanding. We can give a shoulder to cry on. We can give a kiss on the cheek. We can give strength. We can give encouragement. We can give trust.

And we can give hope. We give these things to each other, and to ourselves, because we believe it will make a difference. It will lift us out of each dark place we find ourselves. It will make us stronger.

You have made me stronger.

On A Happier Note....

(humming to the tune of "Ding, Dong, the Witch is Dead")

Ding, dong, the Rummy's gone

The mean ole Rum, the evil Rum.

Ding, dong, the Rummy's gone for gooood.

If Rumsfeld's "resignation" (they should just admit they fired the bastard cuz he's not only an idiot, but a power-hungry, manipulative and short-sighted idiot) doesn't make you happy, well, nothing will. Or it means you're part of the 23 percent of this country who still thinks Bush is doing a fine service to the American public.

In which case, there's something in the shed out back behind the house that I'd like to show you...

I mean, honestly, how long did the Bush adminstration think they were going to fool people into thinking we could "win" in Iraq? Did they just think we were going to nod silently and capitulate while we basically ruined not only their country, but ours as well?

I'm sorry, am I wear a "I'm Stupid" sign again?

Why I Don't Want to Blog

Maybe it's the fact that I accidentally deleted my template (again) and was forced to use one of Blogger's Incredibly Sterile and Dull templates to temporarily fill in until I work up the courage to create another one.

Maybe it's the fact that my blood sugars have been bouncing up and down like a ping-pong ball and no matter how often I tell myself, "Allison, you need to fix this" I just move on to my next activity like it doesn't matter.

Maybe it's the rain.

Maybe it's the fact that I spent almost an hour in bed Sunday around midnight having one of my usual "wakemares," which are nightmares only I'm awake when I have them. My imagination sometimes takes a trip down the rabbit hole. I had a complete emotional breakdown at the mere thought of having a seizure, one where I'm around people I know, having to wake up confused and sick, watching people cry or worry or shield their children. Sometimes my mind drifts to the never ceasing worries of our lives, and I can't help but personify the fears. Between shaking from the low and choking from crying, I could barely swallow the cranberry juice. Which made me sob even harder.

Maybe I'm just in one of those moods.

Maybe it's the fact that I'm tired. Twelve years with the D. Five years since my "big break" (October 2001 was the launch of CureNow, my first baby). Maybe it's the fact that I'm sick to death of hearing about the worries about complications, the frustrations with research, the annoyance with Non-Ds, the justification for why we're all alright. I'm sick to death of wondering when or how death will come or if it will almost come and then not. Maybe I'm just tired of being reminded of why I'm different and why that's okay.

Maybe I just want to go ahead and be okay.

Maybe it's the fact that I have tried to be funny, creative, witty, deep-thinking or revealing about myself. Especially the last couple of days. I spent a week working on "Noncompliant Diabetics Have More Fun." Was it really that lame? I thought my musings on Pastor Rick's sermon were a great response to Scott and Kerri's frustrations. Was I totally off-topic? I don't know if anyone is really listening and if they are listening, I wonder sometimes if anyone even cares anymore.

Maybe I just try to hard. Maybe I just have unreasonable expectations.

Maybe it's because I think I'm boring. I wake up at 6 a.m., I drive through the rain to work, I stop at Peet's for coffee, I go to work and check email/blogs and write a press release and check email/blogs and talk to someone and check email/blogs and go to a meeting, I eat lunch while I check email, Facebook and blogs, I pretend to listen to my professor while I check email, Facebook and blogs. I drive home. I eat dinner. I check email, Facebook and blogs. I send interview questions. I do homework. I go to bed at midnight. Rinse and repeat.

Maybe it's because I feel overexposed.

Maybe this is all a part of the rhythm Pastor Rick talked about at Imago Dei on Sunday. The pattern of work and rest, work and rest. The fact that I always work on diabetes and never rest, because it's the blogs are being updated, the message board needs moderating, submission forms are sent in. I made the brilliant decision of choosing the Sabbath as the Day of Updating.

Maybe it really is just one of those days.

Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head

Rrrrrr-rraannkk. Rrrr-rrr-rrrr-rrrraaaaaannnnk.

Oh how I love the sound of a dead battery in the morning.

After losing sleep due to a forty minute low at midnight (which resulted in a near breakdown and needs an entire post of its own to explain) and a mad rush to get out the door after over-sleeping, I turned the ignition with eager anticipation of another Peet's coffee and marionberry scone to this. A dead battery. The second one in as many years.

Unbeliveable, I sigh. Both parents gone. Both cars gone. To my advantage, my younger brother's friend was expected to arrive shortly, so I sent off a quick email to my PGE supervisors letting them know I wouldn't be in until "probably around 9:30."

The Friend of Younger Brother arrived and after a quick phone call to my father to verify jumpstarting instruction (just to make sure we didn't accidentally kill each other in the process), Buffy (my car, not the Vampire Slayer) was up and running again. I grab my stuff and off I go, into the morning Oregon rain.

I decide not to risk losing the electricity so I keep mosing down Hwy 43 into Portland. Since it's only 9:00, I decide to drive a few surface streets to give Buffy a bit more time to warm up before I park in my usual parking garage.

At approximately 9:13 a.m. on Monday morning, Allison attempts to drive into the parking garage when the motor vehicle also known as Buffy suddenly sputters and dies. On the sidewalk. With an big, black, scary-looking SUV right behind her.

BEEEEEEEEP!! BEEEEEEP!!

Panicking, I try furiously to start the car or to push the wheel to get the car to move. Nothing.

BEEEEEEP!!! screams the Scary SUV. I get out of the car, put my hands on my hips and yell:

"My car is DEAD!" ("F-ing idiot!" is what I think to myself). I get behind the car and in my gray slacks and beige Gap peacoat attempt to push my car out of Scary SUVs way. Two nice men come up and help me push it to its final resting space, illegally parked in that "yellow zone" next to the curb. They say sayonara and I'm on my own.

I immediately call Dad (one of the benefits of living at home). He's pissed off that my car's dead but he gives me the phone number for the Allstate Roadside Assistance. I make arrangement with Allstate and they tell me someone is on their way.

Twenty minutes later and I get a phone call from a guy who says he was told to come jumpstart my car.

"Uh, I don't think that's such a good idea," I say. "We tried jumpstarting it this morning and it still died." The man agrees and calls Allstate to get a tow truck. Enter second conversation with Allstate, who again wants to verify all my information and where I am and what kind of car I have, etc.

Then I wait. I hate waiting. Waiting was probably the worst part of it all. I tracked down a phone book and called PGE. The car was illegally parked so I didn't want to leave (though not once in the two hours it was parked there did a police officer or traffic person come by to question me. Eh.). The wind and rain were soaking me, the creepy parking attendent guy kept leering at me, and my elegant Franco Sarto flats just weren't cutting it anymore. But the waiting gave me ample opportunity to draft this blog post in my head.

Just when all hope seemed loss, Emerald Towing arrived. How they managed to hook up my car while directly in front of the garage entrance is beyond me. Even though I watched them do the whole thing. I tried to stay as far away from them so no one would think the car being towed was mine.

They dropped the car off at an autobody repair shop on the East Side of the River. I made arrangement to come back later that day after class to pick up the car. I take the bus back, and with my lousy little umbrella walked a few blocks to PGE for my remaining hour and a half of work.

I looked like a wet rat when I got there.

I left a bit before 1 p.m. because I test at 98 mg/dl but feel a slight ache in my hands (my indication I'm about to bite the big one) . While eating Chinese food across the street, Gordon, the guy from the autoshop calls me.

"So, um, did you leave us your keys?" Pause for moment. Put down the fork. Jaw drops.

"No." Feeling the pocket and hearing the jingle-jangle of one Very Important Key. "I must have forgotten."

At this point I'm positive my head needs examining. I hop on the first Bus 14 I see, but we're heading in the wrong direction. It ends up taking me twice as long to get back to the auto shop than it should have. The bus drops me off on the Hawthorne Bridge, four blocks from the shop. My little umbrella can barely take the strain of the winds and one of the metal arms snaps in two. Now I have to hold my broken umbrella over me with two hands. But with 40 MPH winds and rain, it's not like I stayed dry for long. I arrive at the shop at 1:40, which is precisely when class starts. I hand him my key, but take the rest because he says he doesn't think he can do anything until tomorrow. I hitch a ride back to campus from a gentleman who is dropping off his car as well.

An hour and a half into class and I get a phone call from Gordon. He tells me the alternator is fine (we thought it was the alternator since it died while moving), but the battery is completely useless.

Faaaaab-u-lous. I can hardly contain my joy at having to buy a battery. Mr. Gordon wants to charge me $99 for the battery, but my dad says he'll put the battery in as that price is severly overcharged.

After class I purchase a new umbrella and wait at the Borders while the monsoon hits Portland. Changing a battery at night during a rain storm. Can't get much better than this. (I believe I was channeling Julia by this point.)

While I wait outside for my dad, I hum "Raindrops keep falling on my head..." I have no idea what the words are or even what the tune is, so I could have been making up the song entirely.

My dad picks me up around 5:30 p.m. and we head to the East Side to buy battery and go the auto shop. Mr. Gordon is still there and we're able to change the battery underneath the covered area in front of the entrance. So that was a nice bit of karma.

In the end, Buffy's battery transplant was a success and she was alive and well approximately 10 hours after her initial collapse.

What Church Taught Me About Diabetes

Today's sermon was on the Sabbath. The Sabbath is the seventh day during God's creation of the universe when He rested. He worked six days creating light and dark, heaven and earth, people and animals and everything in between. And then He stopped.

My pastor, Pastor Rick, talked about how in life, we don't ever stop. Ever. Sometimes we pretend to stop, but we really don't. We're always working on something or thinking about working on something or preparing to work on something. We don't stop until we plug ourselves into sleep, like a cell phone charging. Always on, and then charging. Pastor Rick said that we are like the hum of a computer. We just keep going. There is no rhythm of six days and then one day. It's just a constant seven until we finally crash into a wall where God (or the Universal Force, if that's what you want to call it) says, "STOP!"

Pastor Rick talked about how we always work because that's how we define ourselves. We work all the time without stopping, because if we stopped working, we lose our sense of self-definition. He said that when men meet each other for the first time, they won't say, "Who are you, deep down in the core of your being?"

They will say, "What do you do?"

At all times we are attached to our computers, checking for the newest email so we can immediately reply so we can feel like we've accomplished something. Or we always have our cell phones turned on because we don't want to miss anything. We are always connected and turned on, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. We never turn off. We never stop.

Pastor Rick talked about how we try to fit God into our schedule, into the "hum" of our day. We visit the Christian store to buy the "1-minute Bible" or we set aside five minutes for "quiet time." We pray while we drive to work or eat breakfast or tie our children's shoes. Or we just don't pray. Pastor Rick says God doesn't like being fit into the hum because that's not how He created us. He created us to have a rhythm. An ebb and flow. An up and down. A speed and a stop. That's what He did, and that's what He wants us to do too.

So you're probably wondering what on earth this has to do with diabetes. There are two things this sermon taught me about diabetes.

The first is that we are not what we do. The anecdote that the first question men always ask "What do you do?", not "Who are you?" really struck me as something that I think PWDs do a lot. Sometimes I think we get so absorbed in the routinization of diabetes that we forget the people we are, or the people we are taking care of. Perhaps not consciously, but subconsciously, we turn ourselves into blood sugar readings and basal rates and bolus ratios and sensitivity factors and we are NONE of those things. Those things just help us to be who we already are.

The second thing that I learned from today is that diabetes goes against God's rhythm and that is why I think it is so damned difficult to live with. Maybe you don't believe in God, or you maybe you believe in a different God, but I think we naturally have a rhythm to our lives. We have night and day. We have the seasons, which our ancestors used to determine when to work the harvest. We have the weekend. We have vacation time. We have these breaks that are built into our lives, but diabetes doesn't have breaks. It's always there. Always going. It is the hum of the computer.

I don't really have an answer for how we can build breaks into our diabetes so we can finally establish a rhythm rather than a hum to our lives, but for me, this gives me a clearer idea of just why having diabetes is so difficult. We have all talked about how it wears on us, how we wish we could have a break. I think the creation of the Sabbath and the fact that we don't get one with diabetes is one of the main reasons it's nightmarish to live with for so long.

Maybe we can figure out a way to create a rhythm to diabetes. I'm open to suggestions and opinions about this. I certainly don't have an answer, but knowing the problem is the first step to finding a solution.

Pray about it.

The Oracle of Starbucks

There are truly amazing things you can find from Facebook. Long lost middle school friends, the name of the cute guy in Chem class, and embarrassing, drunken pictures of your closest friends.

And now, you can find a group devoted to the Oracle of Starbucks, the source of all knowledge and the real meaning behind your "Grande Nonfat Double Shot Extra Hot Vanilla Latte."

Based on my typical order of "Grande Mocha Frappaccino Light Double Blended," The Oracle of Starbucks says I'm a clueless str*pper who also drinks wine coolers and hangs out at the mall.

What does the Oracle say about you?

Five-O-Rama

I better do this quickly! All the people I'm thinking of tagging are already being tagged.

First, a disclaimer: I do not maintain that any of the following random facts are at all interesting. Any resemblance to something humorous or interesting is merely a coincidence.

1) Kerri mentioned she has never been in a fight. I, too, have never been in a fight. But in the 8th grade, I very much enjoyed smacking this very annoying guy who liked me with my purple lunch bag. I especially liked hitting him when I had a Snapple bottle inside. I also got a thrill out of smacking him upside the head. That thwack sound was addicting.

I was a very violent thirteen-year-old.

2) Portland is home to the World's Largest (and Greatest) Bookstore - Powell's. Powell's is excellent bookstore but also enormous. The Downtown branch, a.k.a. the City of Books, is an entire square block and three stories tall, with eight color-coded rooms. First-timers need a map. When I was a little girl I hated going inside. My mother was a teacher, so we would visit often when we were downtown, but I was always so scared of getting lost among the towering bookcases and swarming people that I would beg her to come back without me.

I, of course, have mended my ways and now plan to move in with a small cot, a coffeemaker and a flashlight. And a cooler of insulin, juice and pump supplies.

(This is where I leave to go test, grab some cookies and think about what my other three random facts will be... 189 mg/dl. Not too bad.)

3) I hate having my knees being touched. I have a downright kick-you-where-it-counts hatred. I don't even like to touch them! If we ever meet, don't try touching them to see if it's true. I will either hit you or cry. Probably both. The only people who can barely get away with touching my knees are little children. Like Riley. Riley could touch my knees and I would be okay. I wouldn't like it, but I would be okay.

I just hope my future husband doesn't have a knee fetish or anything.

4) I never changed majors. College students are notorious for changing majors at least a dozen times or not deciding until they're forced into something due to lack of time. I decided when I was 17 years old I wanted to work for JDRF and I essentially got my degree because it fit what I wanted to do plus it gave me options to go into something else if the JDRF thing lost it's appeal (which, knowing my track record of over-extending myself and then burning out, is quite possible). I took my first J-school class fall term my freshman year and never looked back.

In fact, I could graduate a term early (March 2006). But honestly, why would I want to enter the Real World any earlier than I have to? This whole Grown-Up thing is severly overrated.

5) I'm addicted to cracking my joints. I know, I know. It's only like one of the grossest things someone can do to themselves. But I started when I was, like, in middle school and I just can't seem to stop! I can crack pretty much everything, head to toe: neck, spine, all three joints in my fingers, hips, knees, ankles and toes. My favorite thing to crack is my back. There are three ways I can do it. Either sitting up in a chair and twisting, sitting on the edge of my bed or on the floor and leaning back and twisting, or lying flat on my back and twist my spine by turning my hips to one side. Oh. My. God. When you get just the right pop in just the right place, I swear it's heaven.

Okay, I have no idea if these people have been tagged, but last I looked, they haven't:

Megan, my partner-in-crime (she helped me devise "Noncompliant Diabetics Have More Fun")
Mommy-to-be Lyrehca
Rock Star mom Vivian
Penny, Riley's mom
Diabetes journalist extraordinare, Amy T

You can NaBloPoMo me anytime you want...

What do you mean I've lost it? I never had it to begin with!

I have indeed signed up to participate in this year's National Blog Posting Month, where I will post Every. Single. Day. My life really isn't that fascinating, so even I'm curious how I'm going to keep this thing up.

Today's story involves me, the mall and the elusive Perfect Black Pants (with Pockets).

You see, since I've officially become a twenty-something (oh dear God...) and started interning in an office environment (first JDRF and now PGE), I have been forced to become an unwitting participant in finding a Second Wardrobe. One wardrobe full of jeans, graphic tees and hoodies are no longer suitable for the corporate world. I must adopt a second wardrobe full of black slacks, tweed, collard button-down shirts, suit jackets and cardigan sets.

It's strange enough to pay taxes and legally able to buy a drink, but now they want me to look old(er) too?

Most women love to shop. I love to shop. I have no qualms with shopping. But I'm not used to buying these clothes, and I'm having a heck of a time finding anything that 1) looks good 2) is something I can actually wear in an office and/or 3) is affordable!

Now, my little gig with Diabetes Teen Talk/dLife does afford me a more relaxed lifestyle than some of my college colleagues, but still, I don't make that much money and certainly not enough to go shopping at Anne Taylor on a regular basis for all my cardigan and tweed needs (sorry Kerri).

I have a pretty decent collection of long-sleeved shirts. Between shirts I already own and the ones I've just bought, I think I can manage about a week and half before I have to rotate back in. Which isn't bad, considering most of these are brand-new clothes. The pants, however, were a nightmare.

As you might now, I like to wear my pump on the outside. I don't like to keep in my bra because you can see the outline in almost every shirt I own. I don't own a band to put it around my thigh (and even then, that would only work if I was wearing a skirt and I'm talking about buying pants). I don't like to clip it to my waistband because the clip digs into my skin. It really only leaves the option of wearing it in the pocket.

But no one sells black pants with pockets!

Okay, a few people do. But they either 1) don't come in my size 2) look weird or 3) cost too much. Oh, and I hate those pants that look like they have pockets but then you try to stick your hand in and all you get is a seam! Sneaky little bastards.

Anyway. I have been trying to find a good pair of black pants that I can fit and afford all week. I hope I can find one soon. I plan on scouring the mall this weekend and trying on every single pair of black pants I find.

The whole Second Wardrobe is a bit ridiculous. I'm making all this money from having two jobs, and yet I keep spending it on clothes so I have something to wear when I make the money.

I need some suggestions from the ladies. Put yourself in my shoes for a second. You're 21 years old, you have a pretty empty closet when it comes to work clothes (I've got the brown and gray pants, three or four office-appropriate long-sleeved shirts, and a new peacoat jacket from the Gap), and you have a limited budget.

Where do you go shopping?

What do I need to buy?

What should I avoid?

And how on earth can you wear heels for nine hours straight?

Sheer Madness

Well, folks. It's up.

The Official Diabetes O.C. website is up and ready for a new year in our little corner of the blogosphere.

What's new? You might ask.

Uh, how about everything?

Brand-spanking-newly redesigned directory with a ton of new categories. You are all categorized in several different ways. You are now listed under your: age, location, type of treatment, gender, and also alphabetically. This is to help make it easier for people who are looking for those who are dealing with similar issues, like "I'm going on the pump. Who else is a pumper?" or "I'm from the Northeast. Who else is from the Northeast?"

I wanted to make it searchable by multiple fields, but that was a long and complicated database creation that would have taken about 100 hours of my unavailable time. So you're stuck with this. Maybe someday I will create a more detailed, searchable database, but right now, categories are what you're gonna get. I think if the O.C. reaches 1,000 blogs, I'll hire someone to put in the man hours to create a database. As it is, I have to enter everyone into five different areas, but ya'll are worth it.

The 2nd Annual Diabetes O.C. Awards page is also up. Woohoo! So go and read about it and vote for your nominees. Remember to pick at least 5 people. If too many people vote for the same blog, then we don't get enough nominees. Though I really don't think that will be a problem, because we have so many people you can nominate. Pretty much everyone is listed.

Ha, except for me.

I completely forgot to include myself in the nomination for Best Blog. I'm listed under Best Adult with Type 1 and Best Female Blogger, but not Best Blog. I actually was not listed in the O.C. after I switched back to Lemonade Life (why I kept neglecting myself with the number of hours I spend on this project, I will never know) but that's why I wasn't included in the initial list of Best Blogs. Oh well. I probably wouldn't have won anyway.

If you have any questions or concerns or problems with the O.C. Awards, please email me. It's kind of tricky if you are unfamiliar with how we do things, so don't feel embarassed or silly if you ask.

I would love to hear what you think about the new O.C. design. I really like that bridge. I stole it from the whole blogging beyond borders theme that came up a few weeks ago. I think a bridge is really representative of this whole group. Blogs building bridges between men and women, young and old, type 1 and type 2.

I hope you like it, so let me know if you do.

And if you don't like it, I don't want to hear it.

I spent dozens of hours on planning, designing, and producing this website, so if you don't like it, you better either find a really nice way of saying it or just don't say anything.

This is the perfect opportunity to heed your mother's advice, "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."

Edit 10:51 p.m.: Okay, okay, I'm not that completely inept at handling criticism. I don't want to sound like an uber-bee-yotch, so if you really do have an suggestion or concern about the new site, please let me know. I like feedback. Really, I do. I'm just... a little sore... from sitting in a hard, wood chair... typing for five hours straight...

I'm pretty sure I have about half the biographies of the O.C. memorized now.