Getting the hang of feeding a diabetic on a boat load of medication is going to quite the roller coaster ride. The husband didn't want breakfast today but I insisted he at least eat some eggs to take his antibiotics with. I guess he required some carbs because a few hours later his blood sugar was so low that I almost had to pour some grape juice into his semi conscious face. (might be exaggerating just a tad) Anyway, tomorrow I am going to toss him a piece of toast with his eggs and cross my fingers. I was pretty upset this morning, even going as far as sending the good doc an email requesting a wound care specialist be assigned to the husband and visit twice daily to monitor his progress (or lack there of). We are going to actually see the good doc and also the podiatrist from the hospital tomorrow, and I am most definitely going to express my concern at my inability to determine the progress (or lack there of) in the husband's horrific feet due to my propensity to panic at the sight of strep and staff infected gangrene toes. Oh diabetes! What a jokester you are! Not.
Evan is ichatting with a camp friend he hasn't seen since last summer tonight. I can only hear Evan's side of the conversation but I imagine the friend asked him how has changed and Evan went on to describe his Fu Manchu facial hair. I love my guy. Also it seems that when placed in a small group situation at school where his group has to determine a name for themselves Evan's group could only think of names that may or may not be currently be used by maximum security prison gangs.
Also, Evan wrote an essay about how to improve the school. Evan imagined the school as one big aquarium where kids ride walruses to and around school. He may or may not have been called to the guidance office to discuss his ideas. Evan does have the gift of exaggeration for comic effect. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
There used to be three expresso bikes at the posh club. One was broken down for a while and lately there have been only two. I was pretty worried about the health of the two remaining ones, because I heard they aren't being made anymore, and then today I walked in and much to my hapiness I saw a brand new expresso bike! Yay! That just made me so happy that I was totally ridiculously happy until I came home and got another peek at the husband's feet.
Now that there is a FOR SALE sign in front of my house everyone wants to know the whole story about why and where we are moving. The other question I get all the time is if we have found a new house. Every time I mention the house that we were outbid on I get the same response. "It wasn't meant to be." The next person to say "It wasn't meant to be." is going to get my knee in her crotch. Seriously! I prefer the less zen approach. I prefer "Hopefully the house is situated on a toxic land fill" or "I hope they put in a slaughter house down the block" or even "I heard that street is turning into one big highway on ramp." I embrace the sour grapes.
I got a letter from the middle school in the mail today addressed to Evan's parents. I was scared to open it. But I did and it is a form to fill out to have your student's records transferred to a new school. I couldn't figure out who had told the middle school we are thinking about moving, but then I remembered about Evan's science teacher and I imagined her over hearing Evan telling a friend and doing a happy dance all the way to the main office.
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