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We found 10 result(s) that match your search "evening":

Tomorrow is the JDRF Promise Ball. I still haven’t figured out what I’m going to wear. Since it’s black tie, I wanted to wear one of the many evening gowns I have laying around (from prom and other balls). So last week, I tried on the main one I wanted, but I didn’t feel comfortable.

 

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The evening was perfect. My friends and I looked like we just stepped out of a magazine. I finally got a dress to work (thanks to an ingenious idea that I'll cover in a future post!). We even valeted the car. Everything was fabulous.

 

After chatting and perusing the silent auction items, we headed into the Ballroom of the Americas for dinner and the main events. I was excited to be there, excited to be part of such a personal and amazing fundraising event. I didn't realize how excited I would be as the night progressed. I didn't realize how carried away I would be by the actual facts.

 

Dinner was magnificent. The food was scrumptious. The presentation was perfect. Dessert was the best part. Chocolate napoleon with chocolate covered strawberries. Two of my favorite things. I even judged the carbs and activity perfectly (I ended the evening at 130).

 

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One winter evening, I had a reminder of how good I used to feel after a walk. It was freezing outside, but the walls of the house were closing in. The kids were screaming, there were dishes to be done, dinner to be made, everyone wanted something from me, but Super Mom needed a vacation.
"I'm taking the dog for a walk," I said to my husband.
Off I went, but not on my normal walking route. My intention was just to clear my head and to be alone. To just take a leisurely walk. But I could feel the drive to walk intensify. My sneakers pounded the pavement and that sound of rubber on asphalt and grinding sandy dirt under my shoes was all I could hear on that evening in my sleepy town.
Man, this feels good! I thought to myself.
Man, oh, man, does this ever feel good!
I walked farther and farther and kept going faster and faster. My face was freezing, my nose was running, but by God I wasn't stopping. (READ MORE)

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On Thursday, Olivia asked me if she could spend Friday night at a friend's house. I said yes, but told her that she had to call home at some point on Friday evening and call again on Saturday morning to let us know when she wanted to be picked up.

I didn't get any phone call until noon on Saturday. I had gone out Friday night, but my husband was home with the two little ones. Normally, I would just get on her case a little bit about it and leave it alone. That was before I checked her meter and pump today.

She didn't check her blood sugar after 5 p.m. on Friday night and only checked THREE times on Saturday. Three. We typically check between 8 and 12 times a day, every day, depending on what's going on. I very nearly blew a gasket over that one.
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On Thursday, Olivia asked me if she could spend Friday night at a friend's house. I said yes, but told her that she had to call home at some point on Friday evening and call again on Saturday morning to let us know when she wanted to be picked up.

I didn't get any phone call until noon on Saturday. I had gone out Friday night, but my husband was home with the two little ones. Normally, I would just get on her case a little bit about it and leave it alone. That was before I checked her meter and pump today.

She didn't check her blood sugar after 5 p.m. on Friday night and only checked THREE times on Saturday. Three. We typically check between 8 and 12 times a day, every day, depending on what's going on. I very nearly blew a gasket over that one.
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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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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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When Olivia first went on a pump, I didn't even think about where she'd put it during the day, how to handle the hanging tubing or whether or not she would feel uncomfortable having a piece of equipment on her. I just wanted to allow her more freedom. Freedom to eat when she wanted rather than letting the insulin dictate. Freedom to have an extra piece of pizza or to go get an ice cream on a sweltering evening. Freedom from having shots 3, 4, 5, sometimes 6 times a day. It was a huge step and one that neither of us would undo.

I was just reading Kerri's column over on Diatribe and she discusses how she likes to conceal her pump, not out of any shame (and I've met Kerri - shame isn't really on her list) but because she'd rather be the one to let people know about her diabetes. She didn't want her pump to announce it for her.
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When Olivia first went on a pump, I didn't even think about where she'd put it during the day, how to handle the hanging tubing or whether or not she would feel uncomfortable having a piece of equipment on her. I just wanted to allow her more freedom. Freedom to eat when she wanted rather than letting the insulin dictate. Freedom to have an extra piece of pizza or to go get an ice cream on a sweltering evening. Freedom from having shots 3, 4, 5, sometimes 6 times a day. It was a huge step and one that neither of us would undo.

I was just reading Kerri's column over on Diatribe and she discusses how she likes to conceal her pump, not out of any shame (and I've met Kerri - shame isn't really on her list) but because she'd rather be the one to let people know about her diabetes. She didn't want her pump to announce it for her.
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In yesterdays post, Lantus and late night lows, I discussed lowering my basal dose. I had read an article where a type 1 diabetic endocrinologist proposed taking less insulin for someone my size. I was taking 17 or 18 units of Lantus each morning and he stated that I only needed about 12-15. I have tried my new morning dose of 15 and so far I feel I need a few more "test run" days.
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