Skip to content

Archive for

First Annual Boston Blogger’s Pre-Union

The Time: High Noon

The Place: Boston Children’s Museum
 The First Annual Boston Blogger’s Pre-Union!!
(to be followed next year by the Second Annual Blogger’s Reunion)
The invitation is extended to everyone who would like to make the drive to Boston and enjoy an afternoon with the bloggers. Meet at noon, stay until you feel like going home. The afternoon is extremely informal and could take whatever shape the attendees choose! (I, personally, chose the shape of a carousel pony, but I’m open to options.)

The Boston Children’s Museum is open from 10 am – 5 pm and admission is $9.00 for adults and $7.00 for children ages 2 – 15 yrs. Directions are linked here. There are a number of exhibits at the museum that look pretty cool (The Hall of Toys? I’m all for that!) but be advised that there is no food facility within the museum itself. There’s an indoor picnic area that could work out well … any objections to brown bagging lunches and eating at the museum? Otherwise, there are many nearby food options. What does everyone think? Any suggestions?

Is Boston ready for us?

Hey Mom, are you coming with me?

Country Mouse.

I can’t claim to be well traveled. Being a bit of a country mouse myself, I’d never explored New York before. Safely cocooned in Rhode Island, the most city action I’d seen was a plethora of Providence and various explorations into Boston. My scene is more the beach, the calming oceanside town, and drinks with friends at the local Irish pubs.

So when we found ourselves in Downtown Brooklyn yesterday afternoon, to say “startled” barely scratches the surface.

In pursuit of what may be our new haunt, Chris and I explored Brooklyn and Manhattan yesterday. Driving in from RI, we spent three hours talking animatedly, the radio never being switched on. Too excited. Too apprehensive. We’d heard so much about places like Brooklyn Heights and Park Slope from our friends that we couldn’t wait to see for ourselves.

After driving through what looked like Beirut to get to our destination, we rolled safely into Brooklyn Heights and parked the car. Beautiful brick buildings lined quiet city street. Despite the biting cold, the sun broke through and touched the windows gently, reflecting back our hope that this could be our New Home. Across the way from the Brooklyn Heights Promenade was the city.

Staring out at the Manhattan skyline, I couldn’t help but feel excited. And swallowed up. Maybe a hybrid of both.

Over the Brooklyn Bridge to Manhattan, traversing the grid that is New York City. Blazing billboards. Scrolling advertisements. A girl like me could get used to this shopping. Restaurants. Bars. City streets teeming with people.

Chris and I, like goldfish in a bowl, peering out the car windows and taking it all in.

“What kind of timeframe are we looking at? Are you nervous? Do you like Park Slope, too? How do you feel about this?” My questions were only slightly muffled by the delicious slice of pizza from Grimaldi’sthat I was devouring.

“Where am I going to work? Is there a pharmacy nearby? Does Joslin have a location here? Where the hell am I going to stash the Jetta? Can I …” Tears are threatening to well up against my will, nervous about making such a big move.

Warm brown eyes. Reassuring hand across the table reaches and takes mine, pizza slice and all.

“We’re going to figure it all out. This is going to be incredible. I promise.” He smiled. My heart stops for a minute. 

Smile back.

“You’re right.”

Grab a napkin and wipe the pizza off both of our hands.

could Heart NY.

 

Rhode Island ADA Announcements

The following is a press release from the RI Chapter of the American Diabetes Association:

Celebrate Oscar Night in Style 
at an Award-Winning Fundraiser
Oscar Night® America in Providence 
to Support the Fight Against Diabetes

PROVIDENCE, RI. — Oscar Night® America will be celebrated at a “dress to impress” event on Sunday, March 5 at Rhode Island’s hottest new night spot, Chiazza. All proceeds from the event will support the mission of the American Diabetes Association.

This will be the only 78th Annual Academy Awards® party in Providence officially sanctioned by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. “This is our second year for this event,” said Jack Hillman, chair of the organizing committee. “And our goal is to make this an annual fundraising event for the ADA.”

Providence’s Oscar Night America Party guests will arrive at Chiazza, 308 County Road in Barrington., beginning at 6 p.m. and celebrate until the last “and the Oscar goes to” envelope is opened. Academy Awards® for outstanding film achievements of 2005 will be broadcast locally by ABC-6. Those attending will be entertained by a live broadcast of the Academy Awards and entertainment from B101. ABC-6 news anchor April O’Dell will serve as mistress of ceremonies for the event. A “Predict the Winners” contest and silent auction are planned.

The Oscar Night America/Providence committee is Jack Hillman (Chair), Roseanne O’Rourke, Rick Dyer, Katie Carlson, Judy Maynard, Diane Gendreau, Barbara Hillman, Melissa Schmitt, Rebecca Tung, Deanna Law, David Mellor and Jim Metivier.

Tickets are available for $50 each. For more information and tickets, please visit the www.diabetes.org/oscar or contact the American Diabetes Association at (401) 351-0498 ext. 3500.

The American Diabetes Association’s mission is to prevent and cure diabetes and to improve the lives of all people affected by diabetes. More than 20 million people in the United States have diabetes, including 1 million in New England. For more information about the American Diabetes Association and diabetes, visit www.diabetes.orgor call 800-DIABETES.

For more information please contact Ed Garcia at 401-351-0498 or egarcia@diabetes.org

And the following is a blurb from Kerri (hello.) :

March 11th appears to be the best “Pre-Union” date for Boston. Can I get a headcount?

Fitzcarraldo and Los Angeles.

Fitzcarraldo” is a movie from 1982 about a man, Brian Fitzgerald, so enchanted with opera and the singer Enrico Caruso that he takes it upon himself to build an opera house right where he lives.

In the middle of the Peruvian jungle.

Push coming to a literal shove, the movie reaches a pinnacle point when Brian finds himself without a river, without a crew, and without a hope pushing his steamship up a mountainside. In his darkest hour, the powerful enchantment of the jungle natives aids him in bringing his enormous steamship up the face of the mountain.

Long way about it, thank you to this entire online community for being my jungle natives, so to speak. Sometimes it’s like moving a ship up a mountain, this disease. Every hand helps when my own falter. So thank you.
Oh, I booked a plane ticket to Los Angeles today. And called in a refill for my Xanax prescription, because Chris and I are off to California at the end of March for a business trip/exploration of the West Coast trip/just a fun time trip. Time to make a literal O.C. of this blogger.

More details to come on that.

And as for the early March Boston Blogger Event, what is the schedule for the East Coast bloggers on the weekend of March 4th? Does that weekend look like a feasible timeframe for those interested in attending? It seemed as though the most accessible place would be the Boston Children’s Museum. Meet at noon at the museum?

Who’s in?

UPDATE: Looks like March 4th is an issue for a number of people. How fares March 11th?

The minutiae of the moment.

Sometimes I examine the minutiae of a moment until an ache forms in both my head and my heart.

Waking up in the morning has my hand lazily grazing the black zipper case of my kit instinctively, making sure the second thing I do is test, only after upsetting the cat from sleeping on my head. Disconnect the pump and scrounge up a loose pump cap in efforts to stumble, bleary-eyed, towards the shower. Clothes for work are chosen, discarded, re-chosen, and the pump is integrated into my ensemble so that its slim outline and snaky tubing won’t be seen.

First cup of coffee at work is greeted by the beeping of my pump as I bolus a unit for the much needed caffeine. Insurance papers spill from every file on my desk as I review policies, popping the 5 mg of l-Glutamin. Work for another hour, reach for that black zipper case. Feeling achy in the eyes. High? Or staring at the computer too long? Will I ever be able to distinguish without checking?

Sometimes I have no idea what I’m doing. Sometimes it shows. Sometimes I remember that I’m now twenty-seven years old and I have not yet made my mark.

Sometimes I’m scared.

Tonight I read a blog online about a man whose wife underwent a pancreas transplant a year ago. She’s been cured of diabetes for almost a year. But in a cruel twist of irony, her kidney transplant has started to fail her, urging her towards dialysis and potentially another kidney transplant.

And I’m human. I felt swallowed by sadness when I read that. That woman, cured of her diabetes after such a long struggle, only to still be faced with the consequences of complications. I wanted to read that she was okay. That they went out dancing for Valentine’s Day, instead of quietly acknowledging her failing body. My sleeve is damp from wiping my eyes and I don’t even know these people. My ache is purely selfish. And I feel guilty for that.

I want to write something eloquent and inspiring but I’m not feeling that tonight. I’m mildly mired with misery. Most days, I don’t think too much about diabetes. Or at least I don’t notice that I’m thinking about it. The testing and bolusing and all the other maintenance becomes so seamlessly integrated that I don’t realize I’m doing it.

But then there are days when the pump swells to the size of a grapefruit and the zipper on the black case seems to always stick. The counted carbs like dust in my mouth. The beeps of my machines echo off my heart.

If I were feeling more articulate, I would tell the story of the low that caught me in its net last night. How I tangibly felt my mind ebbing away from me. How nothing but his words kept me docked in this consciousness.

I would tell you about how his palm gently brushes my forehead at night to see if my forehead is clammy from a low, even when he thinks I’ve been fast asleep for hours. How he didn’t think I knew and I wish I’d kept his secret. How he still does it, and I smile in my sleepiness.

Tonight is a night of feeling tangled in my words.

Tomorrow will make more sense to me.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox

Join other followers