The Wedding Crashers.
We started at Narragansett Beach on Saturday morning - early. Armed with bathing suits, trashy magazines (oh how I love trashy magazines), and the company of some of my college roommates, we were on the beach and relaxing in the sun by early morning.
"Kerri, only you would have that little pouch that matches your bathing suit." My roommate said, gesturing towards the flowered blue case my pump was nested in.
"What? I need to keep it fashionable!" (Thanks, Donna, for the insulin pump pack! It was a hit at the beach!)
Wearing the pump at the beach usually isn't an issue at all. Infusion set on my thigh, pump tucked underneath a shirt to keep it shaded, and a spare pump cap for going in the water and I'm all set. No one notices. I've only caught people looking at those moments when I'm first arriving at the beach and the pump is clipped to my bathing suit bottom. (Wires are essentially untuckable in those situations, so they are a bit exposed for a few minutes.)
The sand/ocean/stickiness from sunscreen presents a unique problem: reattaching the tubing. When I disconnect and put on a spare pump cap to go in the ocean, the salt water cakes up around the infusion set, making it sticky and tricky to reconnect once I get out. I have to rinse the site profusely with clean water to unstickify it and even then the site clips back in place with a chalky groan. (I use the Minimed Quick-Sets.) At one point, I couldn't get the site clipped back on until I rinsed the site off in the bathroom sink.
Aside from those pumping glitches, blood sugars held steady in the sun, ranging from 80 - 212 mg/dl (forgot to bolus for that iced coffee - dang!).
After dinner at Crazy Burger (where something that looked like spinach with chocolate sauce was served, but it was actually spinach with a balsamic reduction) and some sangria at Turtle Soup, we hit the Coast Guard House.
Standing out on the upper deck, a woman in a black dress came stumbling towards us.
"You girls need to come inside." Her shoulder strap slid down a bit but she was too drunk to notice. "Seriously. You need to come inside and dance. This wedding is so fun and you need to come inside."
We shot her a collective confused look. She shook her blond head and smiled sloppily.
"I know. I would be like, 'Who is this lady?' But you should come inside and dance. Come on!"
I think we were too taken aback to argue with the lady. We filed in, watched as assorted bridal attendants danced like fools, and laughed our asses off watching the drunk blond lady girate all over the place.
Is it possible to be invited to crash a wedding?