And now you know......

Reading between the lines.....

So I was asked why "The Diabetic Road Warror".......it's not that I am afflicted...but I am...it's more like it's the sweet stuff that will kill you on the road of life, it always does. And now you know, and how sweet it is and how sweet it has been, even the....rocky road!

The Price You Pay for The World's Best Peach Cobbler

All is not as it seems......

This is my grandmother, Ima Lee. You probably see an old woman. She is, she's a beautiful 92.

It was a rough day for her, she had just returned from the hospital after breaking her hip so she's a tad drugged here, but that's not the point. Ya see, all is not as it seems. What is here is the most gentle woman I have ever known. She taught my mom how to love. I smell the worlds best peach cobbler in her presence. I feel the softness of her hand on my head when she was about to tell me something that needed immediate attention like "would you like another cookie?" or "would you like some ice cream with that hot peach cobbler?"I hear angels in her voice when she read me a story. I feel the warmth of her in the binding of the book that she gives me when she is finished reading and is going to let me read the rest for myself.

There is a history lost in her head due to Alzheimer's that makes it's way out in the faintest of voice as she speaks to the family members that have passed on before her. She remembers me as my mother and I am enriched as I could not imagine filling my mothers shoes and she recognizes my attempts at love and care as coming from my mother. I become aware of my mothers presence in the room and realize my mother, now departed, lives on in me in my grandmother's eyes. Is she seeing her in me or is she seeing her in a way that I can't due to her illness? It doesn't matter. I am with her and this is the price I pay for the world's best peach cobbler.

She lives in a nursing home. Her condition is beyond any one human to be able to care for her. And she's a slinky! Able to leap hospital bed safety rails, which is how she broke her hip. Able to scoot out doors left unattended, which is how she got out of the nursing home with 4 of her house mates until the neighbors called to tell the nursing home that they had some escapees. They made it outside but didn't have a clue as to what to do next so they just were there, in the sun, digging the outside.

I always thought nursing homes were for the unloved until I got over myself and spent some time there with her. (she could not spend time with me as she kinda lives in another world) but there I was, watching her, caring for her and listening to the noise in what was now her home.

There is the man that counts and gets stuck on 28 28 28 28 28 28 28 28.....turns out, numbers were an important part in his life, he used to lay railroad track and they had to count to keep in unison, then he became an auctioneer. Numbers are close and dear to him, they paid for his family and his life...26 27 28 28 28 28....he hangs on to them like a lover.

There is the woman in her 50's that will sing for you if you take her out for a cigarette and she begins to belt out a tune...one sentence and she must drink her water and lubricate her voice, again she belts out a tune....one sentence and she must drink her water and lubricate her voice, and yet again, she belts out a tune of one sentence. Not a particularly good singer but she truly belts it out, she gives all she's got, every bit of it till she is drained and must fill her cup so she can give you more.

There is the attendant that made some tough choices in life and sees this place as her salvation, her hope, her way to care for her young son.

There are crudely made decorations hanging overhead, art work from the day's activities. There is the scent of home cooking coming from the kitchen and one of the wisest women stirring a pot of love that will be Ima Lee's meal. And it's magic food, it heals her wounds and her soul. This is her home. Even if I could be independently wealthy and take her home with me, this is my grandmothers home, where she feels normal, where she feels loved and accepted. In my world she would be different, there would be no attendant that she could save and give hope to. Here, in the sponge painted walls and noise of 30 TV's on different channels turned up too loud to drown out the others, my grandmother is home.

Home is where the heart is and her heart is here and I have been enlightened to her now family, even though I am inside, even though I am family, I am on the outside and a grateful guest and I hope I live to be 92 and put in a nursing home with someone that sings and someone that can count. All is not as it seems, sometimes it's far better, far more beautiful than you could think.

Hold the parsley please!

A Taste of Nostalgia.......

I returned to Houston from a very hot, very short trip to Las Vegas to find that in my absence, it didn't rain and my plants didn't get the water from the automatic sprinkler system. My lemon had curled leaves, the ficus had leaves turning yellow, the rosemary was naturally dried, and the rest of my herbs, how sad.... the basil just limp and wilted, the thyme was out of time, parsley? What is up with the parsley? I watered my plants and took in the wonderful Houston humidity then, as quick as I could I escaped the wonderful Houston humidity inside in the air conditioning. As the day wore on and the temperature cooled off I went back out to check to see what could be salvaged. The basil was strong and fragrant, the thyme found it's second wind, the citrus, bright and shiny but the parsley? What is up with the parsley? I took a closer look and someone has been eating my parsley.....

My mind went back to distant summers. Catching lightening bugs with my Sun. Bedtime stories finished with the lights out and the two of us on his bunk bed mesmerized by the tiny lights in his bug bottle.

Back then, my plants were worthy of mentioning, even stealing, as I found out when while I was home, someone came into my courtyard and stole my geranium that was 3 feet across and had 15 massive blooms. I have to admit, it was enviable. My balcony dripped with blooms from flower boxes, tended with patience and peace. But my parsley...What was up with my parsley??

One humid evening my Sun was in the courtyard catching geckos when he began to take a closer look at my parsley. He emptied out his bug bottle full of geckos and came running in the house excited by his new find. We broke out the encyclopedia and began to peruse the pages, looking for pictures to match his new find. As I am thumbing the pages, he is letting the caterpillar climb back and forth on a twig and a parsley stem. In the process, he pokes the critter with the twig and the caterpillar quickly stopped and erected two bright yellow feathery antennea and emitted a strong scent, the scent of ground parsley. Back before the Internet, encyclopedias didn't have picture for every caterpillar. We decide to make this a nameless pet and see if we can watch it become a butterfly. For weeks it dined on only the best organic parsley (by this time I had to buy it at the store because the nameless one had an appetite that rivaled a 13 year old athlete in the midst of a growing spurt) And then one day...then one day when we thought all was well, it just stopped eating. I could see a disappointment brewing. It climbed to a high spot on the twig placed in the bottle and it just sat. It sat and occasionally wiggled. It threw it's head around as if in agony and it began to lose it's vibrant colors, then it's legs and we were sure, our nameless pet was gone....until......it seemed to catch it's second wind. hanging by it's back feet (or what was left of them) it hung and wriggled, it twitched, it convulsed with rhythm and we noticed the very fine shimmer of silk as it spun it's chrysalis. The world became small and large all at once. We watched patiently for hours with Oreos and milk until it moved no more and resembled nothing we once knew. And then......it was still......

Days passed as well as most of our interest. the bug bottle sat on the coffee table and was, as most items on coffee tables are, a conversation piece. at one point the conversation was what should we do with it? Is it dead? How long does it take for a butterfly to emerge? What stages in life are like this for humans? Do we give up? And then we noticed a change in the chrysalis, a twitch here, a lightening there, the once plump oval, now finer, thinner in shape. Our interest was renewed and more Oreos were called for. We watched patiently as the nameless one began to emerge. With a twitch, a squeeze, a turn and a long stretch, out, slowly, out emerged what appeared to be a wet wasp. No way! No Way! I knew the life cycle of bugs and this was not a step in waspness and worse yet, before I could say another word, the dangerous wasp-thing was now on my Sun's young fingers.

I never knew that boy could have such patience. He sat for hours as the butterfly slowly unfurled it wings and dried and hardened them. It was magic, shear magic as we sat, talked about letting go, changes, life and there, before we knew it, it flew and was gone. One of those moments that I hope plays in slow motion when my life passes before my eyes, my boy and the butterfly.

For the next 6 years we managed to get parsley plants in the spring that had the presence of these critters. We eventually found out that they were Swallowtail butterflies. Nothing more beautiful that I can recall, other than his hands around the bug bottle when he first discovered them.

So there I was in the Houston Humidity. My Sun in the desert of Nevada and we were connected by the silk of a memory as I called to tell him, after years of the absence of the nameless ones, here they were again. I had two. Just a little parsley left. I dug through the cabinets to find a large vase. I captured the creatures and set out to find a child for them. I approached the mother on the corner, she looked at me like I was dangerous and the bottle of parsley was poison. I approached the mother next door and got a quick "no thank you, we're allergic", when I heard the shrill scream of a little girl voice across the street. Before I knew it, I was at the door knocking. Little eyes peering through the blinds and finally the door cautiously opened as the mom stood there. I explained I was desperate and I needed children.....ok, not the right thing to say. I explained I needed butterfly hatchers, I heard her daughters were just the right size to hatch a couple of butterflies. OK, now if my neighbors thought I was odd before (loner, gone often, shades drawn etc...) now I had convinced them it was true. The mom looked down protectively at her daughters and melted with the sized of their eyes. They did the butterfly delight dance as if they had waited their entire lives for this very moment and Summer, True Summer, with exploration and adventure had just arrived in a bottle. I found a home for the nameless ones......and my parsley will now survive.

What a wonderful way to start the summer. I called my Sun and we were lost in the wings of a butterfly once again.

Hold my parsley please, it's very close to my heart

Out on a Ledge........

Sometimes it pays to break the rules!.....and then again, sometimes it doesn't.....

This past 2 weeks I spent in Utah and Northern Nevada respectively. It was an interesting road trip filled with the unexpected. First, a REAL date with a REAL gentleman that actually got out of the car to come open my car door. (I have a soft spot for men whose mothers taught them right). Next after the class I was teaching was over, came a small road trip to the Bonneville Salt Flats to get my co-worker Steven to unwind. At the Salt Flats I did my first ever do-nuts! (I didn't know that you aren't suppose to put on the break and never take your foot off the gas when encountering mud....we did get out).

Next I was in Reno. I picked up my rental car and headed for Winnemucca for a long weekend with my Sun and his family. They are getting married June 2010. Jenny's mom came in for the long weekend and it was our mission to take Jenny wedding dress shopping. Winnemucca is a 2 1/2 hour drive from Reno. About 20 miles out from Reno a car pulls up along side me and begins honking and pointing down. I'm not so sure here but I think 2 things. One! He is making a lewd gesture and suggestion as we are passing the infamous Mustang Ranch. and Two! there is something wrong with my car. I travel a ways till I see a couple of cars pulled off to the side of the road with occupants sunning themselves on rocks down at the what I think is the Truckee river. I get out and inspect my car and nothing is wrong with it so I head on to Winnemucca and I go out on a limb and figure the man's gesture was a lewd invitation.

About 10 minutes on the road, yet another car is pulling alongside and honking, this time, if it's lewd, it's REALLY kinky cause it's a family van equipped with a family and a dog and they are making the same gesture. but you never know, this IS Nevada and I am not yet familiar with the customs. I stop at the side of the road and inspect the car and find nothing wrong with it. By this time I have, however noticed that the roads are smooth and the car has a shimmy and likes to pull to the right. I figure there is something happening but there is no evidence of bad tires or broken tie rods, nothing hanging from the undercarriage and I have not run over anyone. I head on to the nest town of Lovelock, where everything is closed and continue on to Winnemucca.

The state of Nevada is bigger than you think and the towns are farer and smaller than you think, this isn't a bad thing, it is what it is. Nevada was a surprising green and it was a lovely drive except for the road noise of the cars honking and the tendency for my car to pull to the right. I figure Winnemucca will have a place that can look at the condition of my rental. when I get to Winnemucca, all the garages are closed for the Memorial weekend. I go out on a limb and figure I can have the car looked at on Tuesday morning, in the meantime, I have fun to have shopping for wedding dresses and swimming with The President and getting to know Jenny's mother Wanda.

As Luck would have it Winnemucca was hosting Run-A-Mucca, the Burning Bike Motorcycle Rally. So after a day of wedding dress shopping with Jenny and her mom and breaking my diabetic do-well diet with a regular size piece of chocolate birthday cake complete with low carb ice cream (I was bad but not That bad) my blood sugar soars and we decide to go for a walk downtown to see what the Run-A-Mucca is all about. Bikes everywhere, leather everywhere, stuff to buy everywhere. We happen on a drag-a-shack that houses a tattoo and piercing business. I have been wanting a tattoo so we look through the books, discuss the placements and I go out on a limb and get one. I haven't put it on yet but I have one.

Tuesday comes and I take the car into the local tire place. They remove the right front tire and find the wheel is bent. All those honking people are just so nice now. Waaay bent. I call Avis and they can't get a car to me for 2 days and my next stop in Elko doesn't have cars available. Les Schwab (I so recommend this place!) puts the spare on the car, explain it will be safe at speeds under 65 and I head off back to Reno. About 15 minutes outside of Winnemucca the light for the tire pressure comes on. I pull to the side of the road where Avis assures me that the light is on due to the difference in tire pressures and my donut on steroids is good for 3K miles, but they have no idea how many miles are currently on that donut.....donuts........? Could this be my Karma for taking my last rental out on the Bonneville Salt Flats and doing donuts? I washed the last rental before returning it. It was only 2 donuts before I scared myself by almost getting stuck. I head back to Reno cautiously slow and am eased by the fact that the road is so much smoother going back, the car likes to stay on the road and no one is honking anymore.

Avis is great. I have rented about 40 cars in the last year from them and this was the first time I had a problem. I have no complaints. But now, I can't make 2 of my appointments in Ely and Elko and realize I will have to fly back into Reno at a later date to take care of these accounts. I rearrange my schedule and head to Carson City, my next stop but I am a day early. I try to change the dates on my inspections but the accounts can't accommodate me. I check into my hotel a day early, pick up my freebies from the front desk to play in the casino and head to my room.

Last year I stayed in 98 different hotel rooms. Keeping track of where I am and what room I'm in is a task. You wouldn't think it would be but it is. I have taken to immediately putting the "Do Not Disturb" sign out upon entering my room so that I can find it if I leave my room later. My inspection schedule is shot so I decide to return phone calls and e-mails. I have the phone in my hand, speaking to my surviving brother when I spot a sign on the glass of the balcony door that reads "Keep door shut at all times to prevent pigeons from flying into room". Sounds reasonable. The balcony is about 2 1/2 feet deep and overlooks and interesting part of Carson City. I walk out on it while talking to my brother and I follow the instructions and close the door (after all, I was not raised in a barn), in the course of the conversation, I have to go back in......and I find it's a self locking door. I am locked outside, on.....I think it's the third floor....but I don't remember what room I'm in and thank God! the sign is right there or I wouldn't even know what hotel I was in. I end the conversation with my brother who is now dying of laughter and google the hotel to find the phone number, call the desk and ask them to send security to open the door. Dead silence. The rest goes like this....

Desk Clerk..Are you going to jump?

Me...No I just want someone to open the door so I can get back in my room.

Desk Clerk...(giggle)Do you have some ID?

Me...Yes, but it's in the room

Desk Clerk....(giggle) I'm sorry ma'am, but we can't open the door if you don't have ID with you. What room are you staying in?

Me....Dead silence.....I don't know. I'm going to go....um..... out on a ledge and say it's somewhere on the third floor

Desk clerk....(robust laughter) I'm sorry ma'am but we can't just open a door to all the rooms to find you.

Me....May I suggest you walk to the parking lot and watch me wave? I think, I'm pretty sure I am on the third floor, you can find out what room I'm in by my name and I put a Do Not Disturb sign on the door, feel free to disturb me, really.

Desk clerk...(snorting laughter) Name please? Security will be there in a few minutes....(Stifled laughter and chuckles) I'm suppose to ask you if you are safe and do you intend to jump. And I need to tell you that this has never happened, and I apologize if I don't seem professional and I hope you think it's funny.

Me....Of course it's funny! But for $10 of free play in the Casino I will...um....go out on a ledge and ....um.....overlook any lack of professionalism....(there is a knock on the glass and security is opening the door) "click"......

Now what does this have to do with diabetes and Salt Lake City?......Let me go out.....on a ledge...and tell you. As I disembarked the plane in Salt Lake City I passed a kiosk for Rocky Mountain chocolates. Immediately the voices in my head started screaming "EAT THE CHOCOLATE!!!!!!!!" I tried to ignore the voices because I had just sat for hours and was looking at another couple of hours of sitting in the car to go to Wendover Utah for an inspection but alas the voices won over and I looked...feasted my eyes on the forbidden chocolate and to my surprise, there was a whole counter of wonderful SUGAR FREE CHOCOLATE!! I had a couple pieces and went on my way and found no adverse effects to my blood sugar. Woo Hoo!! I like this! On the way to Carson City I spy the Chocolate Nugget, a whole building devoted to the yummy creamy concoction and I figure if Rocky Mountain can make sugar free chocolates, The Chocolate Nugget can too. I think I'll stop and see if they have diabetic chocolate. AND THEY DID! Not only did they have diabetic chocolate (the caramels are unbelievable) but they have the best salt water taffy in every flavor you can imagine and I buy $10 worth. (relax, it was a little pricey and you pay for it in more ways than one).

So now I know it's not going to effect my blood sugar my inner censor goes on vacation and plans to win big in the Casino and pay for Jenny's wedding dress. I try ALL the flavors, one right after the other and make disgusting moans and groans as my sweet tooth is safely satisfied, I think I bought 8 different flavors, its all a blur now after the traumatic locking myself out on a ledge incident.......which brings me back to the incident......in case you didn't know it, diabetic sweets are not made with sugar but instead sugar alcohols. I'm not sure what this would do to an alcoholic and I don't think it raises your alcohol blood level but I must check this out at some other time, hopefully not on the company clock......but it does have an....um....urgent effect on your digestive system. It seems that if it goes through your system quickly, and I do stress QUICKLY...it won't show up on your prick test on the glucometer....And there I was...Out on a Ledge.....Thought I was gonna die!!

Sometimes the best things are worth repeating!

Happy Mother's Day Mom! Orange Marmalade!

When my dad was stationed on the USS Observation Island we lived in Satellite Beach Florida. Truly one of the best times of my life. We lived a mere 2 blocks from the beach and at the age of 10 there was not a day that went by that my oldest brother Bill and I weren't down at the beach. To this day, I have not been able to find the freedom of those days. And what is so funny is that my mother could not swim but would not hold us back from our adventures, misadventures and explorations. Come to think of it, she didn't let it stop her either. I think it's funny, brave and very giving of her as I recall our afternoon fishing trips on the canals. She couldn't swim and yet there she was many an afternoon with 4 children on the canal bridges. Biggest trout I ever caught was with a string bean. She didn't know a thing about fishing but she taught me so much about it. How does that happen? She had a lot of those tricks. She also didn't bake (except from a box) and yet when I tried my hand a baking years later she had magical ingredients like cream of tartar...and she didn't bake.

My mom had a lot of magic to her. Just raising 4 kids, mostly on her own as my father played Water Hero with the Navy was magic. But the magic I remember the most today was Mother's day. One Mother's day in Florida, I scraped up enough pop bottles and turned them in for what I thought was the Ultimate Mother's day present....Breakfast in bed! There was a bakery down by the beach and they made whimsical breads, one was an alligator. At 10 I thought this was the bees knees and wanted to share this with my Mom. I bought the bread and being in Florida, Orange marmalade was plentiful and cheap....cheap cheap if you bought it at the commissary. Mother's day came and the alligator bread and the orange marmalade was the breakfast menu..with Tang to wash it down, we were, after all in the Space Center and Tang was the latest and greatest. Truth is, I remember the bread was horrible, cute but horrible. The orange marmalade, nothing special, nothing remarkable and the Tang, was just Tang. I remember thinking that it just wasn't much of anything to celebrate her day with. And she, being the magic that she was, made such a big deal over the orange marmalade that for years afterward, I made sure that every Mother's day also had orange marmalade.

Years later, when I made her angry just trying to learn how to live in the world, I could always smooth things over with an apology and a small jar of orange marmalade. For decades, when I sent her flowers, I never signed the card with who I was I always put 2 words...Orange Marmalade. The florist in her small retirement town remembered this odd habit when she made up the spray form my mother's casket and had the card signed Orange Marmalade. Mom died last year on Mother's Day. It was a beautiful day, bright, breezy, and we had had our Mother's day Orange Marmalade. I just don't have the words to describe how and how much I miss her, she truly was my best friend.

So here is the recipe for the Orange Marmalade that I made for her on our last Mother's day on this earth. Be brave, it is really very good, and not just because she said it was, it really was.

Carrot Orange Marmalade

1 Orange
Juice from that orange
2 lemons
Juice from those lemons
2 1/2 cups carrots
water
sugar

Squeeze the orange and lemons like a bear hug from your mother. Set the juice aside.

Sliver the orange and lemon rinds. Cook rinds in just enough water to cover until they are as tender as the touch of your mother's hand.

Grate carrots and add to the rinds. Cook till as tender as a kiss from your mother.

Add juice.

Remove from heat when tender.

Measure mixture and add equal parts water. For every cup of water/fruit mixture add 2/3 cup of sugar.

Return to heat. Bring to boil stirring constantly.Cook about 1 hour till syrup reaches jelly stage. (to find out if it's jelly stage, stick a plate in the freezer and every once in a while drop a bit of the syrup onto the cold plate, put in the freezer for 1 minute. When it is jelly stage, you can take your finger and push against the side of the syrup drop and it will wrinkle....like the corners of your mother's eyes when you make her smile) Jelly stage is also recognizable when the syrup sheets off the spoon instead of running off in a thin steady flow.

Remove from heat & pour into prepared jars.

Process 10 minutes in a water bath.

Share with someone you love.

Happy Mother's day to all the Mother's that hold the magic and make the world turn.

I miss you Mom.

I AM A MASTER BAKER!......and I want everyone to know it!

yup! I did it!

I had heard that Sourdough bread was easier on blood sugar spikes than yeast breads so I set out to catch me some critters. I heard that the yeasts had to be spoiled so I lined my counter top with dark chocolate, deep red fruity wine, fresh raspberries. I spoke softly to the air in my kitchen for days. Sweet this's and sweet that's. I opened the door for, what I was sure was hundreds and thousands of the little critters hoping to spoil them and entice them into my mixture of flour and water. I tried to get them drunk. A few succombed to my attempts and the soggy flour began to weep a lovely hooch. I knew I was on to something. I made myself a handy wild yeast net and danced around the kitchen singing like a siren drawing them closer into my magic potion. This, by the way, is know as the "Hoochie Mama Dance". Daily I fed the goo and waited, sometimes patiently sometimes dancing madly about the kitchen and today.........today there was sweet and definite success......Ladies and Gentlemen, may I introduce.......My Puppy! (every pet has to have a name and I travel way too much to have anything other than a sourdough starter for a pet.)

With my happy puppy I set out to make my first loaf of Sourdough bread with roasted garlic and cheese. I could hardly wait! But with wild yeast, wait you must. It took almost 3 hours for the kneaded dough to rest and double in size and then once I kneaded it again it took a VERY long time for the loaf to double, then as the scent of fresh bread and roasted garlic spread through my house, it was an ETERNITY for it to bake and once it was baked.....yup, had to wait a grueling hour for it to cool.....I just could not do it. Warm bread, who cares what it does to my blood sugar, this is Life and life that I helped to bring into existance. Heven I tell ya. Heaven. And then since I had this warm crusty loaf of fresh baked bread, I had to have a bowl of venison stew that I had previously made. I felt so rustic. I felt so self sufficient. I felt so fullfilled.

"I knead you......I put flour in the bread, you know I knead you........" I sang as I worked the dough.

"Shhhhhhhh....resting..............

The finished product.

I was so proud I had to call everyone. I was so proud I couldn't sleep.....maybe it was a blood sugar spike....should have had another glass of wine, purely for medicinal purposes, of course.

Recipe available upon request.

Rising Above It All.......finally

I got MY life back!!!



Last year, 2008, was an extraordinary year for me, no matter which way you look at it. Gotta great job that makes me a professional airport bum, moved to Houston, mom was diagnosed terminally ill, she died on Mother's Day after a visit with her, I had to take guardianship of my beautiful 96 year old grandmother to insure that she stay safe in a nursing home and not go back to my evil uncle who kept her folded in the bed like a taco so he could collect her social security checks, I catch my breath from that and Hurricane Gustav hit my unsold house in Louisiana, throwing a tree through the roof, while cleaning up the Louisiana house and having the tree removed, Hurricane Ike hit my house in Houston..................and did I mention that I travel 38 weeks a year? It's no wonder my body gave out and I have diabetes now, I have been in Fight or Flight mode for so long. It's not just that I lost my mother this year but in the last 7 years, I have lost 2 brothers and both parents leaving me with one suicidal brother and my Sun left in this world. I don't say this to impress or depress you, life is what it is and sometimes it...well, it just sucks!

Many great things have happened because of this terrific job, the best being that I was only 7 hours away from my mother in her last days and I could spend the weekends with her. And during those drives, the Texas Blue Bonnets lined the road and made the world a little softer, a little more promising. But there has also been a down side to the job. It's hard to start a social life when you are gone all the time. I don't have a strong social support in a new environment. I have not been able to fly my plane cause I have not had the time, now that I am diabetic I have not yet got the medical sign off to fly again. When I was first diagnosed it just seemed like another block to my flight path, I thought maybe I should sell Peg. I spent hours in the hangar laying across the seats and the wing trying to figure out why I would be able to achieve my dream of my own aircraft and never be able to fly it? I decided that it happened that way so that my mother could at least see that my dream came true. She never did get to see Peg, only pictures and the stupid glazed eyes and smile I get when I talk about my plane. She was proud.

It's almost a year now since my mother died. The Blue Bonnets are blooming again and I began to wonder about the promise that I felt last year as I saw them on the way to my mother's. My buddy Craig called to say he was going to fly to Brenham with his girlfriend for lunch, it was time for me to go and see how my plane flew.

Let me explain Craig. Craig and I were in ground school together in Hammond Louisiana. We talked about going into a partnership on a plane but he moved to Houston. I bought Peg and then shortly after that was offered the position in Houston as Product Integrity Specialist...aka Professional Airport Bum. Life quickly got out of control and I was not able to fly the plane. Planes, people, houses, cars, boats, none of them like to be stagnate and unused so enter Craig. Craig pays for the hangar so Peg is sheltered and he flies the plane so that she doesn't sit and take a set in her seals, condensation on her crankshaft and the molecules of the propeller are properly distributed regularly. I fix it when he breaks it. Not a bad deal for him at all.

So we meet at the hangar and I swear that plane smiles when I show up just as much as I smile.

I have not seen Christy, Craig's sweetie, since the year of 2008 began to fall apart. I am so impressed with her. Bless her heart (we say that in Texas over the age of 40 and I am catching on quick) Bless her heart, she gets airsick and yet she still flies with her sweetie Craig. I can't help but love that kind of devotion, that kind of understanding.

We pull Peg out of the hangar (or as we say it in Louisiana, "we pull Peg out the hangar") preflight her and we are off! I can breathe! I feel the tears begin to fill from my heart to the lump in my throat to my eyes but they don't come out, they just sit there and I remember. I remember what it's like to be just me again. Just me and let the world go below me as I rise above it. I am home. My mother would have been so proud. She would have been worried that I had gone so long without being me. My mother would often comfort me by telling me "It's going to be hard to be you" cause I had so many dreams, so many goals and so many obstacles and she would be just as happy as me when I "got there". If she hadn't died of a broken heart, watching me go through this year surely would have done her in.

So we are off. So you can see that the Blue Bonnets from the air are not that magnificent blue that you see from the road but instead it's a strange grayish, greenish hue that resembles mold on a good cheese. I think of that sense of promise I felt last year when I saw the Blue Bonnets while driving to my mother's and how just like when you see mold on cheese you think something is bad, when it isn't always the case. As we come in on final, there waiting for our landing is a massive carpet of Blue Bonnets and Indian Paint Brushes surrounding the runway like a welcome mat. I am home again. It's good to be me again. I "flew" 109,000 miles last year just with Continental Airlines but that is not flying, that is traveling. Yesterday with Craig and Christy, we Flew! We left it all behind, it was gone and I can see now that the white water is settling into a more manageable life. The magic of Christy? ....Bless her heart....she kept chiming in "someone has their life back....." "Who has their life back?" Christy was the voice of my mother, and I don't even think she knows it.

I flew! I soared! I came home! Lunch wasn't bad either.

On the Road again.......

I come from a Navy family. We moved every 15 months when I was a kid. In my adult life, this lack of roots and tumbleweed tendency continued. As an aircraft mechanic I worked away from home half the year....it was the best part time job I ever had! I worked either 7 days on and 7 days off or the wonderful schedule of 14 0n and 14 off....you can get into a lot of trouble on a 14 & 14 schedule!

Now I'm a Product Intigrity Specialist....I inspect fuel systems at general aviation airports. A professional Airport Bum. Best job I will ever have. My territory is the Northwest US. From North Dakota down to Kansas, over to Northern California and up to Alaska. It must be THE best fishing territory in the USA. I am still testing this theory so I will keep you updated.

My mother prepared me for this job. I see that it's taken me a lifetime to get here. It was worth the wait. Just wish my mother was still alive to share it with. My mom, my best friend and the only place on earth that I felt perfect died after my visit with her on Mother's day 2008. I spent my travels last year trying to escape my unmanageable life. After her death I had to take guardianship of my beautiful Grandmother to ensure that she would stay safe and happy from my evil uncle, who lived off her social security and kept her folded in the bed like a taco. Now she happily scoots around the nursing home and occasionally remembers who she is. Then after the court battle for my grandmother, Hurricane Gustav hit my house in Louisiana that I have not sold and it threw a massive tree through the roof. While I was cleaning up from Gustav, Hurricane Ike was brewing in the Gulf. I prayed that it would come finish off my house but instead, it went and hit my house in Texas. 2008 was a rough year. Roughest was the loss of my mother.

So....with all the stress that I was under last year, I thought I was feeling yucky and "not quite right" because of the stress...nope. I am a diabetic. Not a needle needing diabetic and I hope it never gets to that point but it requires that I become basically obsessed with what goes into my mouth. Most times, that's not such a bad thing. Like tonight I realized that 2 potatoes and 3 pounds of crawfish does nothing to my blood sugar....I seriously mean nothing. Life Is Good!!!! and then there are times when I experience death by grilled cheese. It's still new and a learning experience for me. All in all not such a bad thing since I have lost 18 pounds in 2 months, quite smoking (did I mention that I lost 18 pounds!!!) and I walk 3 miles a day. I feel pretty good, far better than I was feeling and with my stomach now flat, I have delusions of beaches and bikini's before the age of 50 hits in a few months. Not a bad goal at all.....maybe one in a cougar print? Yeah, right!

So I hit the road the day after tomorrow and will be traveling till November. Off to a good start too, Las Vegas for a week and I get to stay in the same room for the WHOLE trip! I do the happy dance when I get to stay in the same room 2 nights in a row so I think this is an omen for a good year. Last year I stayed in 98 different hotels, flew 109,0o0 miles on Continental (the other airlines don't count since I don't have elite status yet) and drove 27,324 miles for work. I am a true road warrior. My mom prepared me for this as I said. So many miles on the road as a kid, she taught us road games like "Punch Bug", license plate bingo, and stupid songs like "I see Grass, I see grass" that me and my brothers would sing in chorus, very badly when we were just too bored. My father really liked that one..not! We had bladders that could be synchronized and go for entire states before needing relief, Texas was a bit rough to get through.

So my mom would love this job and would love to travel again. Her body just couldn't make it anymore so I take her with me in spirit. You know it's a good life when your mother truly was your best friend. A priceless woman she was. A loving soul and I swear she had to have been the strength of the world cause it sure fell apart when she left this world. I miss her.

So, come on mom, I see grass, I see grass, I see trees, I see trees, I see cows, I see cows.....

Is this the right touch?

Glucophage........sounds like a massage stroke.........

Years ago I was a massage therapist and taught sports massage. In Swedish massage, there is a stroke called effleurage. It's a smooth palms applied feather light to security blanket deep stroke that invokes a sense of well being. Glucophage sounds like that, kind of soothing. My brain had visions of this drug easing my blood sugar into normal range and it probably does that but just like the grilled cheese sandwich, there is more to the story.....

Now here is my disclaimer, what you are about to read may or may not be graphic in nature.

I like to call this my poopy pill. The first time I took it at night and in the morning it had side effects that made it impossible to make my last trip to San Francisco. For one thing, I didn't think that I could make it from my house to the airport without having to stop more than twice to use the bathroom. And second, it gives me gas that a 6 year old boy in a make shift club house would be envious of. I'm afraid that they would have had to make an emergency evacuation of the aircraft had I made my flight. I had visions of letting one slip on the flight (cause it can't be controlled!) and the emergency oxygen masks dropping from the overhead panels. It WAS that bad! When I filled the prescription, the pharmacist kindly called me over to the consultation window and discreetly whispered to me that it was going to have some "less than pleasant side effects and I might want to stay close to home for the first couple of days". I asked if I could use an over the counter remedy to counter act the effects and he looked at me sadly and told me "no". I suspect he has had some personal experience with this.

So I cancelled my San Francisco plans and spent the week on half a dose in the mornings and made earnest attempts to get a grip on my diet. That was, until the grilled cheese experience yesterday. I started my full dose in the mornings and at night after the kryptonite sandwich.

It takes time but my body is adjusting and the side effects are easing. I have visions once again of the gentle easing pressure of the Glucophage wrapping loving hands around the excess sugars from my liver and restoring a sense of well being to my body..........

This does bring to mind a funny travel story that has NOTHING to do with diabetes!
I travel every week 4-5 days. I don't know about you but I get bored in airports and restless on long commercial flights. I have to find ways to entertain myself.

On this particular flight to Iforgotwhere, I was not fortunate enough to get a window or aisle seat. I'm OK with that. but this time I was sitting between two rather large mountain men, neither of which were willing to let me have an arm rest, so I sat there with my shoulder blades pointed towards each other like the people on either side of me were contagious cause you can't invade personal space, its a RULE!. About 5 minutes after lift off I remembered that I was letting a friend of mine fly Peg, my airplane and his girlfriend had a tendency to get airsick. I was going to need another airsick bag in my plane. I reach forward and pull it out of the seat back in front of me. This little action didn't go unnoticed by my seat mates and I found that I had a little more shoulder room.

Now like I said, I have to find ways to entertain myself. This was going to be a 4 hour flight and sitting like I was sitting was going to be painful by the end of the first hour. With this tiny bit more breathing space I was allowed, the oxygen got to my brain and I could think clearer. Think thoughts I probably should not be thinking. But I still didn't have enough oxygen to my brain to enforce the inner social director into action, so I reached up and opened the air valve up top (called a weemac by the way, cute huh?), the air was now directed right down on me and in this small gesture, the gentlemen to my right and left leaned apart a tad more, I now had arm rests. More oxygen to my brain now but still not enough for the inner social director to step up and tell me to "play nice", so I began to fan myself with the airsick bag..................I now have enough room between me and my seat mates to sublease. I wipe my brow and................

These guys were true gentlemen. In stereo, they asked me if I was OK. I wiped my brow again and said I would be fine. Mountain man on my right (the coveted aisle seat) offered me his seat...in case I should have to get up in a hurry. I graciously accepted! Having had enough oxygen to my brain now, I knew a good thing when I saw it. Eventually, the inner social director got the best of me and when drinks were served, I sprung for drinks for my seat mates, then once they were friendly and cordial, I confessed. I just needed the bag for my own plane. I switched back to my assigned seat and the Mountain men kindly gave me a bit more room and an arm rest. They were good guys, smelled good, looked good, not a bad spot to be in, sandwiched inbetween to big strong men.

Did you know that when you are on the moving sidewalks in the airports, if you turn around and walk in place it looks like you are doing the Moon walk? Yep, it does. Gotta find some way of entertaining myself.

Hello, My name is Doris and I am a diabetic.....

Hello Doris!

After swimming in the rive Da Nile yesterday, I got to the bank, warmed myself in the sun and dined on not one but 2 luscious grilled cheese sandwiches, on white bread with jalapenos and dipped in salsa. My favorite comfort food. It was an over cast day in the real world and that just makes me crave certain foods. Yesterday it was grilled cheese. Towanda, my inner Cave Woman was no where to be found, I suspected she wouldn't approve but I did it anyway. My before reading was somewhat decent so I indulged. What did we learn?

1. For me, this seems to be a disease of indulgence and the cure is going to have to be self control.

2. Learning to control it is not far from learning how to fly. When you are first learning to fly, before you can solo, you have to master emergency situations like stalls. You have power on stalls that simulate stalls that can occur while taking off and you have power off stalls that simulate stalls that can occur while coming in for a landing. Stalls happen when the angle of the wing is at such an angle that the wind can not create it's lift. Make a paper airplane and throw it. If it doesn't go straight the whole flight but pitches up then sharply down, this is a stall. Learning to eat as my body needs is much like this. Grill Cheese sandwiches, for me caused an power on stall and my blood sugar soared to 262. The consequences were miserable and I had to sleep it off.

3. As in any loss or change, there is a certain level of grieving. It goes in stages, 2 of those stages are denial and bargaining. I spent a good amount of time in both yesterday. And that brings me to this blog.

Hello, My name is Doris and I am a diabetic.

Step One: Admitted we were powerless over diabetes and that our blood sugar had become unmanageable.

Step Two: Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves or medication could return the glucose readings to normal.

Step Three: Made the decision to turn our will and our diets over to the care of a health care team such as endocrinologist, diabetes educator, etc.

Step Four: Made a searching and fearless inventory of our pantries and began a food log and regular glucose testing.

Step Five:...........................you get the picture.

A grilled cheese sandwich! Something as benign as a grilled cheese sandwich made poison in my body! It was certainly a wake up call.....OK, it put me to sleep really but when I woke up, I knew. I knew that there was going to be no more bargaining, no more dips in Da Nile, the meter is not wrong, this is for real, the real deal, I am a diabetic. Wishing it away is not going to get me anywhere.

Now what?

You Make me Feel like a Natural Woman.......

Meet the Inner Cave Woman!

I woke up this morning dripping from the waters of Da Nile. This just can't be happening to me. I didn't sign up for it, I don't want it, thank you. I don't have time for it and I have other things to do, better things. Like eat what I want, when I want, where I want, how I want. I want I want I want! But for now I have to deny myself. I hate this. I am angry! I want to throw rocks! I got to thinking about my Cave woman diet, depressed by my morning numbers. Cave Woman needs a name to pull me through this. I always loved the movie Fried Green Tomatoes. I loved the wise old woman and the birth of another wise, soon to be old woman in the change of life. I loved the passing of the torch through the jar of honey from the bee hunter or bee keeper or bee whisperer, I forgot what it was. I just remember the passing of the jar of honey and it was like the passing of the torch from one Goddess to another. So Cave Woman is Towanda. Why? The first time I powered up an aircraft and rotated off the ground that was the scream that I let out. I was free. Somehow, Towanda has to free me from the depths of Da Nile to a freedom that I know is there. I mean, after a hurricane you don't see squirrels, cats and dogs lying around dead, I have not yet seen anyone dead and it be from the diagnosis of diabetes, maybe from diabetes out of control but not just the diagnosis. So somehow I know that I can get through this and I know that I need the help of my inner Cave Woman....now known as Towanda.

So I have higher than I want numbers this morning and I am being good. Good to the point that my taste buds are changing and I am preferring the live foods, combinations of the right amounts of proteins to carbs to fiber to whatever....I can feel the difference and I like it. But I look at my numbers and I wonder, "Am I going to be able to do this with diet and exercise alone?" When I am on the road, some days, like travel days to Washington and Alaska, I bet I don't get in a thousand steps a day let alone have a way to exercise. and just for now, I want to forget the Cave Woman diet, forget the numbers and have a breakfast that I want. Like a rest stop or something. So I pull out of my freezer.....raisin bread.....in a plastic wrapper. Towanda tells me that it's in plastic, not available to her in her time. I defiantly read the label. Hmmmm.....sugar content is a little high....Towanda perches herself on the counter top and blocks the outlet as I pull the toaster out of the cabinet. I find another outlet and pop the (for now) taboo treat into the toaster, pour myself a cuppa coffee and step out on the deck to see what the birds sound like this morning. I come back and my toaster has betrayed me and joined the ranks of Towanda, Cave Woman, keeper of the common sense and it has burnt my toast. Now I really want to throw rocks! I pop in a couple more slices and my breakfast is complete. Yup, just a couple slices of toast, that's all I want. I am not big on breakfast in the first place and since diagnosis, I am diligent about eating it, and snacks, and and and. I used to be able to go till 3 in the afternoon before I put any nutrition into my body. I know this is not good. I don't get the sensation of "hungry" just like some people don't get the sensation of "full". The indicator just is not working. I tap on the glass and nothing. It's inop. A couple of times since I started the Cave Woman diet, I have been able to tell what time it is by the stirring in my stomach and I am intrigued by the sensation. And years back, when I went to Weight Watchers to loose a few pounds I did feel the sensation of hunger at meal times. Back then I ate more than I ever had and lost weight, and learned what it was like to feel the sensation of hunger and it amazed me.

So my hunger indicator is in the shop. In the meantime, Towanda and I have discussed that I can not handle eating an elephant all in one bite and diabetes is a massive elephant. It's Saturday, just toast, just once in a while is better than nothing, better than Dr. Pepper and one small step back...maybe not a step back but a standstill? Sure, I could make better choices, I can also choose not to. It takes time to grieve the loss of anything, I am grieving the loss of the life that I once knew, I admit, my habits weren't that great, I admit that I am liking some of the changes I am making but I also admit that I am still swimming in Da Nile. Shall we "Raise An" toast to the process?

It takes time to dry off from the waters of Da Nile. Cave Woman Towanda didn't have a towel back then either. Towanda will carry me through, she's one tough cookie.......mmmmmm cookies......... It's a good thing I don't have a towel to throw in once in a while!

I gotta go Tea Tea...hey you know me....

The road to Anywhere begins with a single step.

Did your mother ask you if "you went before you left the house?" like my mother did? And usually the question was posed after you left the house and then it was to late to go back and do the right thing?

I was raised in a Navy family. We moved every 15 months. We were good travelers. We could hold our bladders for entire states and then our bladders were synchronized with my fathers, who did the driving and was in control of the bio break stops. Texas was a tough state to make it through! But this blog entry is not about bladder control. It's about a new road and first steps.

I went to my hangar today to visit my plane Peg. One of the consequences of out of control diabetes is you can't get a third class medical certificate necessary to pilot a plane. Right now, I can't fly, or I can't fly alone legally but I can fly with another pilot in command or a flight instructor. So I went to sit with Peg and plan my course of action to get back up in the air. Making payments on a plane you can't fly is quite a motivator.

In the past, on the way to the airport I would stop and get a Dr. Pepper. And that's what I did today. Only I made a "smart choice" and got a sugar free Diet Dr. Pepper. It was a habit. A nice habit that I thought I would miss until I started my Cave Woman Diet. I gave up sodas a month ago, not by choice so much as it just gave me that "not quite right" feeling, my body and my taste buds just naturally rejected it and as a result I have lost 4 pounds effortlessly. I did a happy dance on the scale this morning when I saw that.

So now I'm faced with having to make another change, another small step. How will this effect my road travels? Dr. Pepper was my constant companion. And then I had visions of sun tea slowly brewing on the dashboard of my rental car. Easily packable, light weight refreshing Celestial Seasonings Sun Tea bags carefully stuffed in water bottles going down the road to Anywhere. That's not so bad. In fact my inner Cave Woman is digging it. Since I began this Cave Woman Diet, eating nothing that wasn't available to my fore mothers (well there are exceptions, I love Splenda) I have developed a taste for the natural sweetness in life. Like sun tea on the dash and road side tea parties.

Hey! Maybe I can make sun tea from the waters of Da Nile?

It's a journey, not a destination!

Welcome to The Diabetic Road Warrior!

I went to the doctor the other day because I was "not feeling quite right". I needed to renew perscriptions, needed an inspection, and it was "just time". In the course of the appointment with the doctor, she reminded me once again that my blood sugar had been a little high and why hadn't I gone for the wonderful glucose intolerance test that she had previously asked me to get....6 months earlier. She decided to give me a quick and painless prick on the finger to find out that my blood sugar at that time was 272. The appointment just got longer. I now have my very own dipstick to check my glucose levels and I have been on a mission ever since to figure out how to make this work with my tumbleweed life style.

***about me......I inspect aviation fuel systems at FBO's in the Northwest (FBO=fixed base operations....or plane gas stations) I insure that the fuel is the same quality from the refinery to the wingtip, next time you fly with your buddy, if you were at one of my accounts, I can assure you that you won't go down due to fuel quality! I love my job and it takes me to the greatest places that you just wouldn't go to on vacation but I have to say, I am the luckiest girl in the world to get paid to do this job and hang out at airports like Wenatchee Washington. What a stunning place in the spring and fall with all the orchards. Well worth the trip and the flight if you are inclined to fly.***

So what's a girl to eat on the road? Airports are just not set up for decent food let alone a diet that is not going to send my blood sugar to the heights of Mt. Everest.

After speaking with my friend, and fellow flyer, Margaret, who is a dietitian and hopefully a co author on this blog, we came up with some ideas that will help me to get started in the mornings. I have never been one for breakfast but now I must. I have decided to call my personal diet "The Cave Woman Diet". That means, if a cave woman didn't eat it, I should find a better choice. Pretty simple diet really, if it comes in cellophane, it's probably going to not be such a good choice. For example, Twinkies....not that I was ever big on the treats but it's an example of what the average cave woman didn't have available. It's my habit to hit a grocery store as soon as I get my rental car to get bottled water, veggie snacks (OK, those come in cellophane but they were available to the Cave Woman), a bag of almonds and I hit the road. In the following entries to this blog, the journey and the fun begins. Yes, I have had fun with this new forced change in eating lifestyle.

It will be a couple of weeks before I hit the road again. Most of my territory is frozen right now and you just can't check for water in a fuel system when it's frozen, so in the meantime, I will be experimenting with how to cook oatmeal without a stove or microwave. What is a good fast food choice that won't send my numbers soaring, and learning more about The Cave Woman within me.

Here we go..........................! And as my mother would say....."did you remember to go to the bathroom before we left?"