Several of the posts coming back from the Children With Diabetes annual Friends for Life conference (FFL) have likened this gathering of beta-less buddies to a traveling circus, a family reunion, and the sitcom Cheers, in whose eponymous bar "everybody knows your name" -- except that in the case of FFL, "everybody knows what it's like to live with type 1 diabetes". The effect, even without the Disneyification (FFL is always held at Disney World), is a Magic Kingdom of Diabetes. It makes sense: the event promoters are (and need to be) familiar with the condition, and the property managers need to be aware of -- and capable of handling -- a large, temporary influx of people who all have the same, or similar, "special needs". (READ MORE)

If life is in fact a series of actions and consequences (and good Lord, I hope it isn't), then the fact that I eventually developed type 2 diabetes (known affectionately around the Rummel-Hudson compound as "the Beedies") is about as mysterious as why it gradually gets lighter outside at roughly the same time each morning. ("Did someone install stadium lights out there? Lets investigate. Oh, look, the sun...")

In college, I lived a life of excess. Despite the fact that I also drank way more than I should have, the main culprit was food. Glorious, wonderful food. I live in Texas, so take those food items and deep fry them. (To this day, the idea of chicken fried steak repulses my northern friends, and yet just now, when I typed those three lovely words, I got a little slobbery.) I drank too much soda, I ate too much crap, and if something green ever went past my lips, it was probably an M&M. (READ MORE)