Halloween

New cyclist on the block

Oh yes he did… So the other day Big Ring came charging up the stairs, bubbles of excitement bursting out of him. He had a surprise, something he wanted to keep a secret, but something that was so brilliant, he just could not hold it in any longer than the mere seconds he already had. “Guess what I got for Little Ring,” he shouted, a beaming smile on his face. “What?” I asked. “Guess!” “A new book?” “Nope.” “A 60-inch plasma?” “Nope.” “A rocket ship that would put Superman in the dirt?” “Nope.” He looked at me like I should have known, like I was crazy for guessing the guesses I had guessed, and when he couldn’t take it anymore, he blurted the surprise out… “I GOT HIM A BABY CYCLING SUIT!!!” Yep, you read that correctly. My baby is just over a month old and already has his first …

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Halloween humbug

Ahh, Halloween, the bane of my existence … or at least it used to be. It’s days like today that had me cursing my disease or just all out rebelling against it. I don’t know which gods were in charge of diagnosing me with T-1, and I don’t know how the hell I managed to piss them off so increduously, but I’m thinking it was pretty darn nasty of them to diagnose me at 9 years old – to give me 9 bloody years, 5 of which I could clearly remember eating sweets, before putting a lock with no key on my beloved candy store. Before diabetes, I loved sugar, oh man, did I ever. Hot lips, jujubes, pop rocks, tootsie rolls, strawberry bon bons, banana marshmallows, lifesavers, fizz, fun dip, pixie sticks, nibs, sweetarts, green apple lollipops, and don’t even get me started on chocolate bars. Oh Henry, oh yes …

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