Media-crity

I went to Stop and Shop earlier for packing paper and saw dozens of these little sneakers on the wall next to the customer service desk, many more than were there a few days ago. Maybe it’s the moving stress, or the goodbyes I had today, or the man who glared at me in the parking lot and freaked me out, but I got a little teary. Every research dollar means so much to me. If you find yourself with an extra $1 in your pocket or your grocery budget, please buy a sneaker. The JDRF does so much for type 1-specific research which is more important than ever now with so much attention focused on type 2. Sometimes it’s like having an invisible disease, I swear. Thank god for the internet, it reminds me that there are other people out there.

This has all been on my mind a lot these past few days because of my eyes. It’s so frustrating to try to shove a box across a room and feel the pressure build, see a spot flitter across. I want to get things done but I know it’s not worth my vision. Still, I feel so useless when I can’t even properly stack boxes on my own.

This is my Aunt Patrice (mom to the famous Mojo) at Piccolo Arancio tonight. Say hello.

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Originally uploaded by Ms. O’Brien.

The American Idol tour is sponsored by Pop-Tarts. Awesome.

I met Eric at Agave tonight, not realizing that the American Idol tour was in town. This posed two problems: parking and an abundance of teens waiting to get a table.

It also brought some awesomenewss: The Oscar Mayer Wienermobile and free Pop-Tarts.

What better sponsors could there be?

Today I spent the day with Amanda, Miss Jane, Junior, and Jimmy. Miss Jane was very well-behaved, aside from when she was denied food, but who could blame her? I know she was really after the pan of mac & cheese I brought.

She was very well-coordinated in a pink polka-dotted onesie and matching polka-dotted socks. Amanda and I were also well-coordinated in matching Project Red shirts. Nice to see some things don’t change.

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Originally uploaded by Ms. O’Brien.

I have whittled and whittled my books down to the most important. Yearbooks. Photo albums. A collection 50 years of New Yorker cartoons from 1925-1975. Books from writers I’ve met or worked with (David Sedaris, I’m lookin at you). Playbills from shows I’ve seen (did I really see Natalie Portman in Diary of Anne Frank?). A collection of poetry and a collection of short stories I’ve had since HS. Novels I’ve loved.

Still, when I look at my bookcase and see how many I’m giving away, I have to pat myself on the back.

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Talk to the hat
Originally uploaded by Ms. O’Brien.

Packing is fun! You never know what you’ll find.

This is right where Hurricane Dean is heading. I’m hoping and praying (to the Mayan gods, of course) they’re okay. I know the ruins of Tulum have been standing for centuries but these newly powerful storms worry me.

The whole area down there we still rebuilding from Rita when we were there in mid-September 2006. When we decided to take a honeymoon last minute some people said we were crazy for going to that area when we did. Instead, we lucked out with a beautiful week for cheap due to the season. Some of the places we saw and enjoyed are now in the path of destruction. I hope this little corner of paradise emerges unscathed.

It’s been harder than I thought it would be getting ready to leave this flawed city. I’ve taken to driving old streets past old haunts with sad old songs looking for old faces, old words, old ghosts. It’s been seven years since I arrived, wide-eyed

After the kerfuffle with Virgina’s new tourism ads inadvertently displaying gang signs, I was surprised to see a Connecticare ad using the same symbol in their new commercials.

Smart.

That is a whole lotta house.

Jesus. 50,000 square feet of domestic bliss. Just goes to show what a strange town West Hartford is when it has me and people who can build themselves this kind of mansion paying our car tax into the same coffers.

It’s been awhile since I’ve been living in an apartment that’s being shown to rent immediately after move out. We were just on the other side of it, opening peoples closets and peering into their showers, of course, but it’s kind of nerve wracking on this side. I don’t know what to do with myself so I bustle around looking busy, which helps with the omg-need-to-pack part, come to think of it. Hm. Maybe I’m onto something.

Last week I had a scary moment when I went to refill my insulin and found myself being charged the full amount. Which is $100/vial. And I go through 4 vials a month. After freaking out about how I had enough left in my pump to keep me alive for another day and a half, I got right on the phone with CBIA to get to the bottom of it. Turns out they didn’t have a form from me to pick which health plan I wanted. Seems my former employer had changed to a different set of options and so, even though my exact plan was still available, they needed me to sign a form saying so.

CBIA was wonderful and helpful and expidited the whole thing and kept checking to make sure I had enough insulin to last me through. I told the woman I was going to buy a vial out of pocket and she immediately had three options for how I could get my money back. I headed to Walgreens afterward to get the vial. The pharmacy staff at my local store are SO nice and helpful. They told me that if my coverage was back within 7 days I could bring both receipts back and they’d re-run my insurance and refund the difference.

Well, today was money back day! I brought my receipts to Walgreens and got all but my usual copay refunded. Hooray! I am officially an Insured Person again. Thank God cause it’s scary out there without it.

The scariest part, though, was the realization of how dependent I am on this medicine, especially now that I’m on the pump. I don’t have a long-acting background insulin to pick up the slack, all I have is what’s pumped into me and when that runs out, if I don’t do up a new cartridge and shoot myself up, I’d be in very bad shape within a few hours.

That’s why I’m doing the Promise to Remember Me campaign this year. Because it’s time we got rid of this disease. It’s manageable, sure. Most of the time, especially since getting my pump, I don’t mind it that much. Things have certainly gotten easier. Still, I want to spend part of my life not worrying about the heat and how many tiny units are in the vial and how busy I am and how much stress I’m under and just live. I want the luxury of a full life expectancy. I want to be able to see the world and my own neighborhood for as long as possible. I want to keep my limbs. I want my kidneys to keep working.

I want a promise.

At long last, my recipe for baked mac & cheese!

I have the best one in the whole world.

Ingredients:

Pre-heat oven to 375
Grease a 4qt rectangular baking dish
Cook and drain elbows and put in baking dish
In a large saucepan melt butter over low heat
Remove from heat and blend in flour, salt, and mustard
Return to heat and slowly add milk and stir constantly until sauce thickens
Add 3.5 cups of cheese and stir until cheese is melted
Pour sauce over noodles in baking dish
Sprinkle breadcrumbs and remaining 1/2 cup of cheese on top
Bake for 20-25 minutes