Tonight we're meeting friends for dinner and a show at the Tin Angel in Philadelphia. Fantastic place to see live music if you ever have the opportunity. We're seeing a band called the Trashcan Sinatras, which you may have heard of if a.) You listened to alternative/college radio in the early 90s or b.) You're from Scotland. A great band.

I do hope we make it there. We can certainly use it. These rare night outs have a tendency to fall apart at the eleventh hour for one reason or another unfortunately. Charlie's recent trend of unexplained high blood sugars has us wondering if a virus is lurking within him, only to be revealed as we're walking out the door with keys in hand.

Susanne has changed his infusion site two times in the last two days to see if that was the source of the highs. Alas, no. The highs are coming no matter what.

We're both pretty frustrated.

"We have to change basal settings," I tell Susanne.

"Do we really want to experiment with settings now? When Jimmy is coming?"

She's right.

No offense, Jim.

Susanne's younger brother, Uncle Quesadilla (don't ask), is coming today to watch the kids. The closest he's come to operating a pump is probably playing Madden Football on his XBOX. Clearly, we're desperate to go out.

Again, no offense, Jim.

So, Uncle Q. will arrive at about 4 pm today and get a crash course in taking care of child with diabetes 101. Susanne is no doubt writing hundreds of pages of instructions and taping them all over the kitchen like Russell Crowe in "A Beautiful Mind."

If we do go, it will be great. Susanne will inadvertently eat something with gluten in it and her belly will swell like she's five months pregnant. The phone will ring when the Trashcans are about to play her favorite song. She'll excuse herself from her seat because she won't be able to hear Jimmy. She'll return when the song is over, shaking her head.

Or maybe everything will be fine. I sure hope so.

I want a cure for diabetes so badly. For Charlie. For you. For your children.

One of my favorite songs by the Trashcan Sinatras is Weightlifting. I hope to hear it tonight. When I listen to the words, I think of a cure.

I just want to hear all the past times
the rushed hours, the endless lives
don't become a burden
say the word and be free

you will find a great weight lifting
easing your mind, a great weight lifting
just leave it behind, a great weight lifting