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June Mohan Dipalma 1931-2014

Dear readers, I write to you today with great amounts of sadness, grief and bewilderment filling my every finger stroke. I don’t know how to write about this, I don’t even know if I should write about this, but for me, writing has always been an outlet, and so today I let my fingers guide my emotions. Yesterday evening my Grandma passed away. It came as a shock. She was 83 years old and had been having a few issues the last year or so that were slowing her down. Still, it was a shock. She had called an ambulance at 3:30 in the morning Saturday; she couldn’t walk. Still, it was a shock. I visited her Saturday afternoon, I saw the frailness of her thin stature lying in the bed and heard her intermittent struggles for breath. But still, it was a shock. She was talking, her mind completely […]

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Running chicks FOUND!!!

So. What have I been doing lately? Well. Not a whole heck of a lot of running… until this week that is. More on that shortly. Since starting back at school 2.5 months ago, my life has pretty much been a non-stop study hole. I study before classes, between classes, after classes, when the boy drops off for his evening snore fest, and sometimes in the early morning hours when the rest of the loft is pitch black and sleeping. And holy crap, let me just say, this studying thing, it kind of works, who knew (oh right, every teacher in high school and every prof who had me my first go at college that told me so). Seriously, I’m like a friggin’ genius. My test scores are in the high 90s! Oh, and I’m a keener too, sitting front row, arm perma stuck in the air, repeatedly answering questions.

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Memory lapsed F bombs

Diabetes frustration No. 5,061: When I went on the insulin pump almost 5 years ago, my biggest fear was that I would forget to administer the insulin. Taking needles, you don’t forget. But pressing a button, that seemed all too easy to forget. And yet, for almost five years, I rarely, if ever, forgot – until this last month or so. I don’t know what is wrong with me. I don’t know why I keep forgetting to take my insulin. But there’s something not clicking in my brain. I test my blood sugars. I calculate the carbs. But I don’t input them into my pump. Some weeks, it’s happening multiple times. What the fricking hell? This is an issue, a major issue, I need insulin, I survive on insulin. Without it, my blood sugars go through the roof, my energy goes down the drain, and my attitude, let’s just say it’s

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New beginnings

More than a week has past and it’s finally begun to sink in. I am not on holidays, not on temporary leave, I won’t be returning – I am no longer a working journalist. Last Thursday, this is what I was doing: As hard as it was to come to this decision, and as much as I know I will miss the great parts of this career, I cannot dwell on the past, I must move forward. And so, in what may have been the shortest retirement known to humankind, on Tuesday, this is what I was doing: New beginnings start now.

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TWO infinity and beyond!

(This post is a couple days late…) From this: To this: To this: I don’t know how it is possible you are already two; I clearly remember just yesterday being the day you were born. So many changes the last year, heck, the last three months. Your undying love for your bike; your game of playing helmet with papsy’s helmet; your own give-mama-a-heart-attack version of Road Bike Party; your insistence on dressing up in mama’s sweaty running gear the moment she walks through the door; the new sentences exiting your mouth every day; your off-key, super loud singing (makes mama proud!); your desire to help that more often than not turns into more work for us; your recital of Don’t Let The Pigeon Stay Up Late, usually done while making a “big piece” on the potty; your go-go-goness from the moment you wake up to the moment your head hits

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