Dear Wal-Mart

I love you Wal-Mart.

I love your low prices. I love that I can get just about anything I need in one trip. I love that you have twelve different kinds of peanut butter and every variety of soft-drink that any person could ever need. I love that you are always open, and I love the little old man that hands me a shopping cart as I walk in the store.

I love you Wal-Mart. Why don't you love me?

Why are your parking spaces always occupied by an abandoned shopping cart?

Why do you have 50 check-out lanes crammed tightly together when there are never more than 10 of them open at a time?

Why don't you understand that sometimes all I want is a hand-held basket?

Why do you always have shirts in every size BUT XL? Or size 34 pants?

Why do you have perfectly-manicured grass outside, but disgusting bathrooms inside?

Why are the rudest people, and the longest lines, always found in "customer service?"


I really do love you Wal-Mart. But sometimes you just aren't worth it.

D-Commerce

Type 1 diabetes has taken a lot from my family. A lot. It's given some things too. There aren't many families where dad and daughter can form their own band with musical pump alarms as the only instruments.

One of the things that it has taken away from us (and lots and lots of others) is the 2-income household. We've done OK on just what I've been able to earn over the years from working 1 full-time job plus any number of part-time ones from being a college instructor to a security guard at professional wrestling events.

But that's not really the point. The point is that one person in my house is working her ass off and doesn't earn any "income." As some of you know, Amy is an absolutely brilliant designer of little girls' clothes, and has been known to make a stunning cake or three. The clothes she makes are incredible, as are the cakes.

So that brings us to today, where Amy is slowly rolling her line of insulin pump pouches out in the market. To be sure, there is no shortage of pump pouches available for sale, but I think that there is an under-served market for pump pouches that are hand-sewn, high-quality pouches made of high-quality fabrics. Typically, her pouches are beautiful, practical, and very well-made.

Swing on by her site and check them out. She's busily adding more to her site, so it re-directs to a listing on Etsy, but check back often as I expect her site to be up and running soon. And if you're so inclined, you might give one of her pouches a try. You won't be disappointed.

www.toosweetboutique.net

The Diabetes Olympics

Participating in an athletic event when you have type 1 diabetes can be a serious pain the butt. A single game of soccer, softball, or flag football means hours of chaos:

1. Afternoon basal adjustments
2. Carefully timed meal boluses that won't peak just as you are up to bat
3. Hoping you have long enough in the dugout for your CGMS to re-acquire the signal
4. Carrying a juice box like a kid heading to camp at the Y

So it occurred to me that type 1 diabetics should have our own Olympics, and I have helpfully come up with some events. Don't ask me to plan the thing, I'm more of a "big idea" guy.

1. 100m Set Change: Participants must sprint 50 meters, pick up a vial of insulin, and sprint back. The winner is the first person to change their infusion site and clear all the bubbles from running with the insulin.
2. 200m Pump-Dangle Sprint: Participants must run 200 meters with their pump dangling between their legs, just like when your pump detaches itself from your pocket and makes a run for it.
3. 400m Insurance Hurdles: Participants must sprint 400 meters while clearing a hurdle every 50 meters. Hurdles shall be made up of insurance agents, appeals paperwork, and DME exemptions.
4. 100m Hypo-Treatment: Participants must bolus themselves down to 60 mg/dl, and then run 100 meters to a juice box. First person over 80 mg/dl wins!
5. Syringe Darts: Participants must, using only a mirror, throw an insulin syringe into a small marked target 10 feet behind them. The target represents an area of skin not scarred by infusion sites.

Parents of kids with type 1 would also have their own special events. I think they are fairly self-explanatory, but would generally resemble a rodeo more than the Olympics:

1. "Test a 3 year old."
2. "School-Nurse Roping."
3. "Testing in Pitch Dark."
4. "Make a Kid Drink a Juice."
5. "Hide the Chocolate."

I especially like the "School-Nurse Roping," but of course you can use whichever barrier to basic education that makes you giggle.

That is all for now. Stay tuned for my letter to Wal Mart.