Deadlines

I work as a grants manager for a non-profit in Chicago. I've been in this position for about 2.5 months. Yesterday I faced my first scary deadline. With a $69,000 proposal due at 5:00 downtown, I finished printing and making the copies at 4:15. This is not how I function. EVER. Never ever ever do I wait for the last minute. But things happen and there I was, sweating it out all afternoon hoping that I'd get that damn thing in on time. And I did. 4:59 p.m. It's written on my receipt. *gasp*

But then I went to job number 2 and got to help make hummus, tabouli, and baklava. Have you ever seen what's in baklava? Phillo dough, butter, phillo dough, butter, phillo dough (etc), yummy nutty mixture in the middle, more phillo dough and butter. Bake. And the finishing touch (and the part that makes it absolutely inedible for me) is the syrup. Sugar and honey. A lot of it. Intense. But the boy was able to attend class and enjoy it all, which was fun.

I rolled into my apartment around 11:15, drank a porter (homebrew), and crawled into bed. I'm still tired this morning, but there are worse things in the world. Like baklava.

The Tipping Point

I feel like I reach a tipping point with my diabetes management every once in a while. I'll be going along fine, not thinking about it too much, but just enough, and then something happens and all the sudden every blood sugar over 200 shows my complete and utter failure at carb counting. Ever low shows my recklessness. And every roller coaster day leaves me grumpy and pissed off and amazed that I ever have a blood sugar that's in range for more than, oh, a minute or two.

I'm at that point right now. It may be due to my new and improved excel sheet. I've entered all my lab reports, all my insurance claims, all my hospital bills and I'm starting to enter all my highs/lows with the date and time so that I can more accurately see when my basal or bolus rates may need adjusting. And oh man, that never makes you feel good about your management. Seeing all those too big or too small numbers, all smashed together.

Add in that on Thursday night I went out for Thai food with the boy, ordered cashew chicken and said "this tastes much sweeter than any cashew chicken I've had before, do you think so?" He said yes but cautioned me to not over bolus since we didn't actually know how sweet it was. I could always correct later. And boy howdy did I. After a heated argument about where some plastic bins of clothes should be placed (about 2 hours after eating) I checked my blood sugar. It sucks to have to say "sorry, I really don't care where you put those, but my high blood sugar must REALLLLY hate where YOU want to put them..." So I corrected and crossed off 'cashew chicken' on the take out menu we brought home. Who wants sweet cashew chicken anyway?