10. Last Friday and Saturday (June 14th & 15th) were spent at Kickn' Up Kountry over in Karlstad. All I'll say about it is that it is definitely a good time; maybe a little on the spendy side, but I'm all about supporting the local economy. Here are just a couple pics from the weekend that I stole from Haylie (I still need to upload mine to my laptop...)
9. I was hungover exhausted from the Kickn' festivities on Sunday, so dad gave Bailey 20 bucks and told us to go out for lunch. I'm kinda bummed I didn't really get to spend Father's Day with him...he was in Ada watching Nannie play volleyball all day.
8. After lunch, I went home and took a long nap. Then Bailey woke me up and wiped the drool off my face for me and we went into town and played whist with Grandma and Grandpa. Grandpa and I lost...first time for everything...
7. On Monday, I worked at AgCountry, and then right at 4:30 I went to the Bou and bartended.
6. On Tuesday, I slept in and helped mom pan smokie buns. This is the pan I did:
I'm not seeing much improvement, but she says I get better at it each time.
5. After bun-panning, I worked at the golf course a little bit and then went to my cousin's fiancée's bridal shower. The desserts were divine!
4. On Wednesday, AgCountry held their customer appreciation lunch at the city hall. After work, I went to Granny & Grandpa's and finished up my latest sewing project! Blog post on that coming up soon...
Granny made spinach-chicken-feta-pesto pizza. Delish:
3. Yesterday, I went and signed up for classes at UMC! It's such a good feeling to finally be excited about school. Nevertheless, I want to get in and get out, so I signed up for 18 credits. Should be interesting...
2. Thursday evening was the Mother-Daughter Salad Supper at Red River. Mom made Dorito coleslaw. It's amazing and stupid easy; one day I'll share the recipe on here. The speaker was wonderful; she preached on Matthew 22:34-40, and her theme was "Love God. Love people. Period."
1. It was such a busy week, which is so weird because on Monday, I didn't really think about how busy it was going to be. I hate how fast summer flies by - it's the middle of June, and I feel like I haven't done a thing! I'm really looking forward to a few beers later, and to sleeping in tomorrow. It looks like rain (of course; it only rains on the weekends around here) so Bailey and I might head to Grand Forks and see The Great Gatsby...if not, I'm going to catch some rays since last weekend's sunburn is healed up for the most part.
Love,
Kalli
P.S. There are FOUR references to food in this post. Just a fun fact.
So, I met my new diabetes doctor on Monday! She's awesome. I love her already.
However, because I am a loopy-swoopy flippin' emotional roller coaster lately (probably because of an uneven blood sugar), some tears were shed at my appointment.
I told her that I wanted to get off the pump, and she asked me why. I told her the same things that I have been carrying on to my blog readers about for the last 5 months - it makes me feel self-conscious, it's in the way, I don't like it hanging off me, when it works it's awesome, when it doesn't it's really bad, etc. She told me that it usually takes a person about 9 months to get used to it, and that she knows it is a very frustrating process.
Then she asked if I could just keep trying it for just three more months. Or just one more month.
Yeah, that's when I started tearing up. Like a big baby. I still feel like such a moron about it.
My mom was sitting there with me, and she rubbed my back while she told the doctor that in the 11 years since I've been diagnosed, she had never once heard me complain, whine, and hate the diabetes before...until I got the pump. And she's right. Diabetes was always something I just accepted, because that's what you have to do when you're diagnosed with it. When I was first diagnosed, I remember my mom telling me, "If you don't like something, change it. If you can't change it, learn to live with it." I've had it for the last 11 years, and I will have it for the next 60. It is what it is.
My A1C reflected on my up-and-down blood glucose levels - 8.6. For those of you who don't know, your A1C is comparable to your kid's report card. It's a GPA of all your blood glucose checks for the last 3 months. Being 8.6 means I was running an average blood glucose of about 229 - not good. It could've been worse though; it has been worse than that before. Like up in the 10's. I'm supposed to aim for the 80-120 range, although the doctors would be okay with me being anywhere from 80 to 160, I think. That would put me in the 6's and 7's.
The doc told me it was okay that I want to be rid of the pump, and to not feel bad. She said it's my body and my diabetes and I need to treat it how I see fit. I had successfully achieved an A1C of lower than 8.0 before on injections, and I can do it again.
You might be wondering what the cause of my high A1C was. Sure, it was partially that my pump would malfunction and "occlude" and all those other boring things you don't want to know about, but I was to blame, too. I got lazy. I ate my feelings. I laid around my house, moping and feeling sorry for myself. I simply didn't care anymore if I felt like crap all the time. My attitude was bad. I kind of forgot that it is what it is.
Anyway...back to the pens I go! And happily so. Would I try the pump again? Maybe, in the distant future; it would have to be perfected quite a bit though, as I'm very turned-off by it right now.
Love,
Kalli
Just a little bit of Peterson farm history...
Do you ever think about how the smallest things in the past (like the waaaaay past) could have made a major impact on your life?
I do.
This is the story of the rock.
I love this story. My dad rolled his eyes when I asked him to tell me it again, because he's "told me it a hundred times".
My great-great grandpa, Peter Peterson, came up here (I believe he had first been in Red Wing, then Moorhead) to begin his new life. With him, he brought an plow, an ox, and a horse. He went out not far from where my house sits now and began plowing. He got about 100 yards down the field when he hit this rock, breaking his plow. He claimed, "If I see any more rocks like this I will not be staying here for very long." He then had to build a kiln, which is a big oven, in order to heat up his plow so he could straighten it out. What a pain in the ass, right?
It was the only rock he ever encountered in his homesteading years.
Now, just think.
What if there had been another rock similar to that one?
My dad might not be a farmer.
Oh who am I kidding? He'd still be a farmer.
But I wouldn't be here.
All because of some a silly rock.
Crazy, huh?
Love,
Kalli
