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It's a bit late, but I figured I owed you all an update on the 2011 Web Warren Cookie Labs' season.

 

The Brown-Suited Elves delivered our 15-lb carton of Christmas Magic on the eve of 21 December, as expected. We shipped eight types of cookies, plus spiced pecans. Because our printer was refusing to, well, print, we couldn't do a funny little Christmas poem like we did last year. Instead, we printed up a "shipping manifest" over at the UPS Store. The elves there wear black with gold trim. Sadly, we found evidence of gremlins in their printer drivers, so instead of pretty, double-sided printing, we ended up with five pages of manifest-and-ingredients-list. 

 

This year, the Web Warren cookie spread consisted of:

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Thursday evening was the awards dinner for two of the three New Jersey Tours de Cure (the third will take place in two weeks). Since The Other Half couldn't get off work, I had to go solo. I'm not completely uncomfortable going out without an escort, but I am rather shy about reaching out to meet other people. I need a hook -- a segue -- something to break the ice. I knew that there would be some folk I'd met before -- Taran (the Skylands Tour's coordinator) and a couple of the committee folk and riders. I also expected them to not have a lot of free/mingling time, or to be with other folk. The sit-down-dinner nature of this event in a way forced me to meet new people.

 

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Last week, a rabbi I follow on Twitter mentioned that she was beginning to work on her sermons for the Jewish High Holy Days. A bit off-the-cuff, I threw out the topic of "G-d forgiveness, versus self-forgiveness, versus forgiving one's fellow man". While the first of these sits squarely within the framework of religion, the other two often sit at the same table as the many theories of diabetes management. Especially where caregivers, and type 2 diabetes, are concerned.

 

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Canada and the United States of America both celebrate their "birthdays" on this long weekend. Flags are flown, fireworks launched, parades marched, and we perceive a sort of unity and interallegiance to our governments and our fellow citizens. While the United States celebrates it's independence from England, we also understand the various states' interdependence upon each other in matters of commerce, transportation, and national defense. It would seem to me that the Canadian provinces are similarly interdependent upon each other.

 

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It seems that everyone has some sort of allergy or food intolerance nowadays. Many of us with diabetes try to avoid sugars (or carbohydrates in general). Those of us with hypertension must restrict sodium intake; those with high cholesterol, saturated fats. The incidence of anaphylactic peanut allergy seems to be increasing so rapidly that restaurants are putting peanut warnings on the doors to their premises. And then there's the most prevalent food allergy of all, wheat.

 

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Back when I was in Junior High, I took a summer creative writing course at our local public library. One of the prompts the instructor gave us for developing a story was, "There are two types of people: those who like egg yolks, and those who do not." On the surface, it seems a ludicrous way to split up a population. But it's those egg yolks (and sticks of butter) that have been frustrating me, and that's giving me some insight into some of our fellow PWDs' daily frustrations. 

 

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It's been a bit busy this week, leaving me somewhat late on reporting back on Saturday's d-group meeting to see Breakthrough: The Dramatic Story of the Discovery of Insulin, a special exhibit showing at the New York Historical Society. Since I had to work Sunday, this ended up as the total of my World Diabetes Day celebrations this year.

 

 

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A man is not dead until he is forgotten. -- African proverb

 

Saturday night, the vice-president of our Friends of Faire group delivered a well-worded "toast to the immortal memory", in which he named Robert Burns "the Bard of Scotland"  in the way that Shakespeare is "the Bard of England" (not to mention most of the rest of the English-speaking world!). As our festivities were dedicated to a member who had recently and unexpectedly died, her life was also celebrated in this toast, and her passing, mourned.

 

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"Pot luck" has been on my mind as my Friends of Faire group prepares for its annual Burns Night, and with it, the close of the winter holiday season.

 

While most of the United States population assumes that "the holiday season" starts with Thanksgiving (the fourth Thursday in November) and lasts until New Year's Day (or if New Year's is on a Sunday, January 2nd), for some of us the season may begin as early as Samhain (Hallowe'en), or last until Epiphany, Eastern Orthodox Epiphany, Imbolc (Groundhog Day)... or Burns Night.

 

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As I came in the back door, I asked E. if it was OK that we had come this way. "Of course," she said, kissing my cheek, "you're family." It was Saturday night and we were all gathered to celebrate Hanukkah with our friends. Friends I've known since sixth grade, friends I went to high school with, grandparents of friends and ex-stepmothers of friends.
As with most holiday celebrations, one of the focuses of the evening was the food, particulary the potato pancakes. And Uh Mah Gawd does my friend's mom make the most incredible ones I've ever had. (OK so they're the only ones I've ever had, but that's not really the point.)
Anyway, as was requested, I sat where I was. Turns out there were mostly kids at my table, but whatever. I also sat next to Pearl, an old friend's grandmother. She has trouble walking and is without most of her upper body strength, so she essentially sat where she was, too. My friend J. asked Pearl if she could make her a plate. (READ MORE)

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