Sometimes, as strangers walk by, you hear just a word or two that raises your antenna. When I commuted to New York City for a short time, I collected these words as people darted passed me on crowded streets. I jotted down what I heard in a journal, wondering how bits of random people’s conversations would sound if merged together. It was sort of interesting.

It may have been something like:

Chicago at 4:20. I'm going to get a second opinion. That bitch betta not be there. God bless.

At the ice skating rink on Saturday, I was taking off Ben’s skates when two lanky teenage boys and two girls walked by.

"Wait," one of the girls said.

"My testing crap!"

Testing crap could only mean one thing. Without appearing too much like a creepy old guy staring at a teenage girl, I inconspicuously watched her walk over to a table, pull a small black case from a larger bag and test her blood sugar. Her friends stood around her awaiting her call as if she was their quarterback.

She licked her finger, zipped up her supplies and the foursome left.

As always, I react to a diabetic sighting with excitement - like I’ve just stumbled upon a rare Northern white rhino.

Charlie was on the ice, intentionally slamming his body into the boards at full speed and crumbling down to his knees with a grin and a blood sugar anywhere from 60 to 350.

Diabetics. They’re everywhere!