Dear Scientists

My daughter's fingertips are only eight years old. They are beautiful and precious and the only ones she has. If it were as simple as providing NEW needles that were less sharp, or somehow more sharp but less hurty, I'd be almost grateful.

Really though, more than anything...we'd like the real cure.

The U-curve

Statistically, it's a U-curve or actually a BELL curve. So don't go all smart-ass and decide it's a U-turn, which I'd never. If ever I find myself in a U-turn situation, I stand still and DON'T turn. Because USUALLY, the curve will burst open an unnoticable bit, and permit a glitch.

Glitches are where miracles reside, just know this. Being sure and certain both, that my place is more often at either end of the U-curve, instead of safely comforted by middle-way huddling. I need to invent a new shape, that's all it is.

Because the bubble that holds it all...the free-time to study what I can't know intuitively, the respect of my children who'll never band against me, maybe freedom IS a limit. Maybe THAT'S my faulty thinking.

An EARNED place one arrives at, a professional surrender of all...here's your freedom to think, act, and be. Yeah, that must be how it's always worked, just decide not to see, but to be.

In Diabetes Land

You know, I never give NEARLY enough attention to dads of diabetics. I mean, there WAS the dad of the NEWBORN diabetic who sought the original cure. Because well, imagine injecting a newborn with insulin, and testing his little teeny fingertips, and um, balancing that with formula or breast milk.

Great photographer and possibly an architect, I might add (GREAT JOB!!!)

Who else? This gal, at least I'm assuming, diagnosed at age SIX and living with it ever since. If ever a person can LIVE with diabetes, and pretend it's not dying. Oops, did I just say that?

Yes, I did. Oh, a loser investing in WordPress (wouldn't recommend it). Major Bedhead...cute blogname for a diabetic's Mommy, no? And she keeps lists.

Well, filled with information, as diabetics always are, and gives PRIZES. But my favorite is obviously this REGULAR MOM about to give birth through c-section. Feeling guilty about that choice, calls herself "a failure" just like me.

NEXT...and the last.

Now we'll NEVER find the cure!(!!)

Bunny ears, don't forget. Sometimes Easter just can't get here fast enough, you know? And a tail...for all the unnecessary drama caused in a perfectly average life. Or else!!!

If Steven Colbert hadn't already shaved his head for the troops, and Kelly Ripa woven a perfect North Dakota accent into Lady Gaga's rah-rah, and Daniel Merriweather made me feel less alone in my aloneness...then.

Yes, then. Always how it will be, so there.

Minimally Ironic

So, again...this is the OTHER diabetic I spoke of recently. Sure, parents get pretty pissed-off when you publish pictures of their kids online...but I don't think the SCABS would've stood out as much, if I didn't take the chance just this once. And, the racial inequality story would not have hit home nearly as well.

How do I keep this from being long...? Well I guess, I'll just start with my sleepless night at the Sofitel, and my plan to start a NEW blog, under a pseudonym. Yes, that one. Of course, that was precipitated by SHEER TERROR as I imagined my impossible position...which is WHY SHOULD I KEEP BLOGGING, when my KIDS COULD GET KIDNAPPED!!! And killed.

Started sweating then, hence the NEW blog that would save me.


What's this...a birthday party? Why yes, Jessica...three of them LAST MONTH! Sorry, forgot to share all the fun. It was fun though.