Monthly Archives: December 2009

sisters

my sister’s name is helen, and i think that she is one of the world’s greatest. she’s the littler blonde girl in this picture. look at her tiny white baby shoes! i wish i still met babies who wore these. (don’t worry, thea, i still think that baby a’s shoes are ADORABLE, but there is something so laura-ingalls-i-live-in-a-little-town-on-the-prairie about these tiny guys.)

helen is 3.5 years younger than i am. this is a great age difference– she has always been young enough for me to boss around, but old enough to laugh at all of my jokes. one of my very first memories must have been in the frigid winter of early 1983, when mom hugged me on our velour-y brown couch, and explained that someone new would be joining our family. someone who would need a lot of attention, cry a lot, maybe throw up on things, and stuff hot dogs in the furniture. well, that’s what i remember. most likely, mom was much more optimistic in her explanation of my new baby sister, who was born in march of that year, in the midst of much tumult. just a few weeks earlier, our house caught on fire! and my mom woke me up in the middle of the night and marched me next door, where i ate a banana! and then we had to stay at grandma root’s house! while we were there, my mom delivered a nine-pound bundle of love (we were both GIGANTIC babies), and named her helen katherine root. (dad suggested the name helen in honor of helen of troy. this is an apt comparison and beautiful name. why there aren’t more lovely helens under the age of 85, i just don’t know.)

and i will take this moment to disspell a myth– helen and i were NOT instant bffs. when she came home from the hospital in her little sesame street blanket, i quietly suggested that the most appropriate lodging for her would be the garbage can. my parents did not listen, and so, my reign as only and most beloved root daughter came to an end, although i can still trick my mom into saying that i am her favorite.

but i soon learned that it’s kind of amazing to be the older sister. finally, someone actually listens to you! over the years, i conned her into cutting barbie’s hair, playing the role of the dog in any game that demanded it, and pitching softballs to me that i would promptly hit right at her head. she was also my teammate in many business ventures, including the high-end dining establishment, chez josephine, as well as the more low-key and accessible seaweed diner, and a very successful ant extermination industry. three-year-old helen especially enjoyed her role as ant exterminator, toting masking tape and a lil’ tykes hammer around our driveway. whenever she saw an ant, he was helplessly taped to the ground, and then smacked with the hammer. it was a violent, yet effective, method.

the summer of 1995 was an especially significant one in our sisterhood. it started off as low-key as usual, with some little chores for mom every now and then, no air conditioning, lots of frozen custard, etc., etc. however, it suddenly and without warning became legendary. one morning, weighed down by crushing ennui, we were flipping through the some tv channels. for a reason that remains unknown, i had actually allowed helen clicker command that day. fortuitously (i attribute this to fate or perhaps her sheer genius), she stopped on lifetime (television for women). they were airing an episode of “sisters,” which was the most delightful piece of television crack that either of us has ever seen before or since.

every day that summer (unbeknownst to our mom, an avid television-hater), we tuned in at 9:30 a.m. oh, the drama– frankie, teddy, alex, and georgie! all living in winnetka, il! all dealing with CAAAAAARAZZZZY situations of the heart. it was wondrous! i think that this television show cemented our already-strong bond for two reasons:

  • as i mentioned, mom hates television. but i didn’t mention that, at that time, she worked as a baker… and her bakery was located in the basement of our home on 34 marlborough road. as soon as we heard that first footfall on the basement stairs, we would shut off the tv, grab sponges, run to the bathroom or kitchen, and pretend to be diligently scrubbing some fixture or tiling. despite the fact that neither the kitchen nor bathroom ever looked that clean that summer, our ruse ALWAYS fooled her!
  • i really don’t see the merits in having affairs with one’s abusive psychiatrist, or marrying one’s sister’s ex-husband, and then divorcing him, and then maybe remarrying him again (i WISH this show was on dvd so i could review its riveting plotlines). but nevertheless, i think it showed us the importance of sisterhood. because no matter how wacko or annoying the sisters became, they always were back the next day, with their mid-90s poofy hair, new dilemmas, and george clooney as a guest star.

since then, we’ve been best friends. (YES I KNOW THIS SOUNDS CHEESY, BUT I JUST CAN’T LIE ABOUT THIS, ALTHOUGH I AM PRETTY GOOD AT LYING ABOUT OTHER THINGS.) there was the time that she sent me the giant heart-shaped rice krispie treat in college, emblazoned with chocolate chips that spelled “i love laura.” then there was the time that i came on a surprise visit to paris with my mom while helen was studying abroad there during her junior year of college. it’s one of my proudest moments. my mom (who helen had known was coming to visit) had arranged to meet her at a subway station. i hid in plain view at a telephone booth while mom ran to meet helen in a dramatic embrace. as they were walking hand-in-hand, i turned around with a crazytown smile on my face. and helen STARTED CRYING! she insists that these tears were from happiness, but i certainly can understand if they were more from fear– i must’ve been rumpled and smelly after the lengthy plane ride.

since i don’t get to see her nearly as much as i would like, i wanted to let helen know how amazing she is, and how i am really sorry that i punched out her tooth that time in 1988. and how i didn’t get in trouble for it, because mom wasn’t home at the time.

i love you, lady!

book recommendation:

a man in full, by tom wolfe

helen’s favorite tom wolfe book, and mine, too! it’s wolfe at his satirical best, and it blows charlotte simmons away.

added note:

many thanks to all of you who followed my insulin saga! i am amazed and appreciative! also, if you’re interesting in joining me in staging a protest at the cvs plaza, please let me know.

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novo what what: a tragedy, the final two acts

i have already published acts one and two and acts three and four of this week’s insulin saga. here is the long-awaited ending to my story.

act five (whereupon our heroine admits defeat, but there is a slight rainbow, faint and shimmering in the distance.)

on saturday, i had a very busy day. the baby panda dropped me off in back bay for my 8:00 a.m. 8-mile run with my marathon team. then i had a lovely late morning in harvard square, getting my eyebrows did, drinking a venti latte, and completing my christmas shopping. i felt so zen! so caffeinated! then i wandered up to the cvs in porter square, which supposedly had the four vials of novolog insulin which were turning out to be my trojan horse, or achilles heel, or maybe someone’s pomegranate. (my handle on greek mythology is not very good.)

i ambled into the store with low hopes. waited in line behind some really weird people for about ten minutes. yes, the same music was playing. i made it up to the counter. i asked for a prescription. for insulin. it might be in the fridge. my name is laura ROOT. (cvs arlington had insisted on making the prescription out this way, because it was less confusing. somehow. i don’t know how. #$%^ing BRIAN.)

and, shockingly (just kidding. it wasn’t shocking at all. at this point, i possessed less faith in cvs than i do in the buffalo bills ever winning a superbowl.), they did not have a prescription for laura root. or laura lintz. cvs in arlington had NEVER. FAXED. IT.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

luckily, i produced the hard copy of the prescription that BRIAN had given to me the night before. and then a pharmacist wearing a stripey shirt delivered one last soul-crushing blow, admonishing me, “THIS PRESCRIPTION IS NOT VALID. THIS WAS WRITTEN BY CVS IN ARLINGTON. WE NEED SOMETHING FROM YOUR DOCTOR! I NEED TO CALL BRIAN AT CVS! COME BACK IN ONE HOUR.”

[the pharmacist’s speech was quite remniscent of this part in willy wonka.]

i staggered out of the cvs in porter square. i called the baby panda in tears. being the wonderful bear that he is, he immediately drove down to porter square and offered to buy me sushi at the porter exchange while we waited. since it is my custom to be over-dramatic and rude in these situations, i hissed, “I DON’T EVEN HAVE AN APPETITE ANYMORE.” (that was a lie. the baby panda saw through this ruse and sat with me at the sushi bar while i stuffed my mouf with spicy tuna. nom!)

after a little over an hour, we returned to the cvs. we waited in line behind some really weird people for about ten minutes. of course the same music was playing, but it wasn’t as horrible as usual because i knew that the bp would help reattach my head if it flew off. we made it up to the counter. i asked for a prescription. for insulin. it might be in the fridge. my name is laura ROOT.

the cvs employee looked at me blankly. there was no prescription for anyone by that name. before i got too out of control, i said in a remarkably calm voice, “I NEED TO TALK TO THAT MAN IN THE STRIPEY SHIRT. WE TALKED TO HIM JUST ONE HOUR AGO. SEND HIM TO ME.”

stipey man, who despite channeling willy wonka earlier in the day, came over and was incredibly nice. he informed me that my prescription had been denied because insurance said that i was refilling it too EARLY. “impossible!” i cried, “i have been trying to get this filled since monday!” then i had a realization– my insurance prolly thought that this prescription interfered with the prescription for my mail-order insulin that is going to get here in two weeks. i told pharmacist stripey wonka this fact, and he agreed.

but then– is that a little bluebird singing? is that the sun coming out from behind one whole week of tears and stressball clouds?

pharmacist stripey wonka said that he could call my insurance and get an override! he said it would take one day, but i would get my four bottles of novolog after all! then he said that he would even give me one bottle of insulin RIGHT THERE ON THE SPOT so that i DIDN’T DIE! it was all i could do not to hug his stripey arm.

so the baby panda and i strode out of cvs, hand in hand, with one bottle of insulin in my backpack. we would return for the other three.

act five (whereupon we can all breathe easily. there is an end to this arduous saga.)

on sunday, the bp and i braved the great blizzard to travel to cvs in porter square. and guess what. i waited in line for like five minutes. once again, that blasted music was playing. but that is where the similarities CEASED. when i went up to the front and asked for a prescription for laura root, they had it! i didn’t even have to mention that it was in the fridge… they just knew!

three more bottles of insulin were in my possession, bringing me to a total of four! i now am rolling in the medication!

so we celebrated! eric made his delicious zuni cafe chicken and i indulged in oodles of the bread salad that accompanied it. why? BECAUSE I NOW POSSESS ENOUGH INSULIN TO BE A BIG FAT PIGGY.

i’ve learned some valuable lessons this week. mainly, i should use google calendar when i want to renew my prescriptions. and i have also learned to stay the eff away from cvs arlington, and any pharmacists named brian.

book recommendation:

moneyball, by michael lewis

eric laughs at me because he says this is a book on statistics. i say it’s about baseball. strangely, you don’t have to be a fan of either to love reading this great story of how david kicks goliath’s @$$.

novo what what: the tragedy, acts three and four

yesterday, i published acts one and two of this week’s insulin saga. here are the next two acts.

act three (whereupon our heroine’s week becomes terrible, horrible, no good, and very bad, and a culprit is identified.)

last thursday night was very cold. but i donned my freakazoid spandex suit and ran four miles from work towards home anyways. after my run was done, i was in high spirits! it was not a bad run, and i was actually pretty toasty. but then i had to wait for the bus for 15 minutes, which froze my spirits and my buns. i was basically tremoring when i finally made it on the bus (and gave the driver a stinkeye), but decided that i would stop at cvs to pick up my prescription before going home. so i hopped off the bus at cvs, and bounded into the warm shoppe. i waited in like a 10-minute line and finally made it to the front. i asked for a prescription for laura lintz. there was nothing. then i asked for a prescription under my maiden name, laura root. still nothing. then i said, in a trembling voice, “could it be in the fridge? it is insulin, after all.” nope. it was like i had never even existed. like i hadn’t been frequenting this cvs since 2004. i actually burst into tears as i slunk out of the store.

i ran home at full speed (it was 11 degrees out, after all) and immediately, while sitting in sweaty freakazoid spandex, emailed my dear doctor wally, pleading for his help. i received a response five minutes later, forwarding my email to two head prescription honchos, asking them to help figure out my “snafu.”

act four (whereupon our heroine’s head explodes. oh and she realizes that the bad guy was not joslin after all, but cvs all along.)

the next morning (friday) at 8:30 a.m., i received a call from a nice lady at the joslin. she said that the prescription HAD been called in to cvs the day before. and that joslin had a record of a conversation with a lady named susan! i asked her to call cvs again, and then call me back. she did just this, and told me that she’d spoken to a man named brian, who claimed that cvs had no record of me in their system, but if i came in, they’d help me. i immediately understood why this was the case, since they were calling in prescriptions for laura lintz, and cvs prolly knew me only as laura root. (you’ll understand if you’ve ever had to change your name… the number of things that you have to change is MIND-BOGGLING. so cvs in arlington did not even make it onto my list of places to call with my fancy new name, which may have been a tragic mistake.)

so i called cvs AGAIN, spoke to the dreaded susan, and explained the situation. she said that she would change my name in the system, and that all would be well when i went to pick up my novolog that night under the name of laura lintz.

so that night, i went to cvs. waited in a line for ten minutes. listened to the same music as i had the night before. this was pretty remniscent of groundhog’s day, a movie that i have always loved, despite my hatred for movies based on misunderstandings and/or kooky gags. i finally got to the front of the line, and asked the young lady at the counter for a prescription. for insulin. it might be in the fridge. my name is laura lintz.

AND THERE WAS NOTHING THERE. NOTHING. NO RECORD OF LAURA LINTZ. NO RECORD OF LAURA ROOT. DOODLY SQUAT.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

AH!

at this point, i lost my mind. little bombs in my head started shooting off. i immediately got teary and said, “but my doctor’s office called BRIAN today! and then i talked to SUSAN. WHAT. THE. EFF.” the girl looked at me like i was one second away from jumping over the counter and walloping her. which i kind of was. so i gathered myself together, took a deep breath, and said, “i am not upset at you. i am upset at the situation. can i please talk to someone?” (i am not even lying! i really said this! who AM I?) and she said, “brian’s in his office. i don’t know when he’ll come out. would you like to wait for him?”

obvi, i waited. but after about five minutes, i started to wonder. what the H-E-double HOCKEY STICKS was BRIAN doing in his OFFICE when my head was clearly EXPLODING? eating CHICKEN WINGS? doing a SUDOKU PUZZLE? just as i was about to demand his head on a silver platter, he came strolling out into the store from a secret door, wiping his mouf with a napkin. (okay, i made that part up. there was no napkin.)

he went behind the counter, and started to shoot the breeze with a customer. meanwhile, i stood up and gave the biggest stinkeye of my life for one full minute before the young lady who had asked me to wait noticed me. then she tugged on brian’s sleeve and said, “um, this crazy girl needs to talk to you.” (okay, she didn’t say i was crazy.)

finally, he looked over at me. he actually remembered speaking to my doctor’s office, but then curtly reminded me that i wasn’t in the system. i then said that i had spoken to the elusive susan, who changed my information the phone that morning. obvi, the change never took place. but luckily, now that he knew who i was, he could fill the prescription! hurrah! he started typing away on his magical pharmacist’s computer, and then said, “uh oh.”

uh oh?

he skittered away, telling me that he had to check on “something.” one second later, he was back, informing me that the CVS IN ARLINGTON HAD NO MORE NOVOLOG INSULIN. not one VIAL.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

but dear brian said that he would fax my prescription over to another pharmacy that did have novolog. one second later, i heard, “aw nuts.” apparently, the fax machine at his sister cvs pharmacy was busy! so he made a photocopy of the prescription, kept it, and then gave me the original, saying that he would fax the photocopy, and i could have the original in case there were any proglems when i went to the other cvs in porter square the next day.

tomorrow: acts five and six, whereupon our heroine realizes that the world is against her, but finds a ray of hope, and perhaps, redemption.

book recommendation:

holes, by louis sachar

recommended for: palendromes and the people who love them

my thoughts: unique and perfect. cried at the end. then again, i cry at mastercard commercials.


novo what what: a tragedy in several acts

so i’ve had a crazy week. it’s actually been kind of crummy. mostly, i think that the crumminess has to do with the great insulin saga that my week has become. it’s a long freaking story, and so i have decided to tell it as a tragedy in several acts. today, i will publish acts one and two.

act one (whereupon our heroine commits a tragic mistake.)

i am not an organized person. this comes as a shock to the many who have gazed upon my font-like printing. but it’s true– i am one of those neat-on-the-outside, hot-mess-on-the-inside sorts of girls. if you were to open one of my desk drawers, you would find a kazoo, a plastic pony, and cab vouchers, nestled next to a stew of paperclips, pens, and a party hat. meanwhile, the baby panda is my exact foil. he is amazing with systems and efficiency! when i was first diagnosed with diabetes, i tried to convince him that we needed to buy one of those tiny dorm fridges to house my novolog insulin (which, if you are not aware, needs a klondike habitat). my beau vehemently disagreed with this energy- and space-inefficient idea, and instead found a tiny rubbermaid with drawers that fits on the top shelf of the fridge. it is the perfect home to my three-month insulin supply that i order from express-scripts, my mail-order pharmacy. in fact, it is so perfect that i oft forget about it.

just like i did until last friday night. (dramatic pause for effect.)

last friday night, i was looking for a new bottle of insulin. i opened the fridge, and then i opened the teeny tiny drawers of my rubbermaid container. and there was only one bottle inside all three drawers! dagnabbit. i had forgotten to reorder more insulin! luckily, express-scripts stores all of my prescriptions online, and i can just login (when i can actually remember my password) and renew! and that is what i attempted to do… and then i realized that my novolog insulin prescription had expired nine days prior.

still, i was not too worried. i would just ask the wonderful doctor wally to write me a new one on monday.

act two (whereupon our heroine’s high hopes are crushed like a tinkertoy under grandpa’s foot.)

first thing on monday morning, i emailed doctor wally. he is my doctor at the famous joslin diabetes center. i love him for two reasons: he is incredible at responding to all of my emails, and he carries one of those olde timey doctor’s bags. the joslin is also amazing. it’s a disneyland for diabetics, and one of the few places where i can go and not feel weird about the tubes and radio transmitters embedded in my stomach, and my compulsive carbohydrate counting. within minutes, doctor wally responded to my email with a phone number to call for a new prescription. i called that very number, and the lady on the other end said that she would send my online pharmacy a prescription for a three-month supply of my precious, i mean, my novolog insulin. i would not have to do a thing, she said. although i could check in 24 hours later to make sure that the prescription had been processed.

*** (<- as i learned in grade seven, these denote the passage of time.)

on wednesday morning, i decided to check in with express-scripts. (yes, i am aware that more than 24 hours had transpired.) first, i logged into my account online. nuffin’. so then, thinking that there was NO WAY that the JOSLIN OF ALL PLACES would have forgotten to call in my VERY IMPORTANT AND LIFE-GIVING PRESCRIPTION, i called express-scripts to see if maybe they hadn’t inputted the prescription in the system yet. and, to my utter surprise, the joslin diabetes center, disneyland for diabetics, had NOT called in my prescription. and furthermore, because it was so close to the holiday, express-scripts informed me that i wouldn’t get any prescriptions for up to two weeks.

PANIC. there was no way i could get through two weeks on my one remaining bottle of insulin!

immediately, i phoned the joslin again, and was basically all, “WTF? where is my prescription? HEY, I NEED IT TO LIVE!” (this is my favorite threat.) and the lady on the phone was all, “ummmm, hmmmm. [in a rushed tone] ohwewillsendthatouttoday.”

translation: it was NEVER SENT ON MONDAY. not good. and then i was all, “LADY! I WON’T GET THIS PRESCRIPTION FOR TWO WEEKS, AND I ONLY HAVE ONE BOTTLE OF INSULIN AT HOME. YOU ALSO NEED TO CALL MY LOCAL CVS IN ARLINGTON TO GET ME A FEW BOTTLES TO GET ME THROUGH THE NEXT FEW WEEKS. BECAUSE I NEED IT TO LIVE.”

the lady apologetically agreed to do just this.

tomorrow: acts three and four, whereupon our heroine encounters more roadblocks that she had thought possible, all in the quest for some life-giving insulin.

today’s book recommendation:

watchmen, by alan moore (author) and dave gibbons (illustrator)

recommended for: moth men, those who love comics, those who don’t

review: big blue guy walking around mars. another guy dressed as a giant moth. in other words, danged good.

li-berry love

it’s been a long week.  i finished my most recent class for library skool and i had an alien device implanted in my stomach!  i am not sure which experience was more exciting, but since diabetes is forever (this, unlike diamonds, would be a horrible slogan), and my cataloging class ended on wednesday, i choose to discuss cataloging, lest it become passe.

i’ve been in library skool for a while now.  because i’m also working full-time, i have been taking the slow boat to china approach of one class per semester. therefore, i expect to be in skool for the next 78 years.  just kidding!  i think that if i push it, i can be done in spring ’11.  i’ve taken a variety of classes: evaluation of li-berries, managment of li-berries, and technology in li-berries.  riveting stuff.  however, the two classes that really make or break your library prowess are reference and cataloging.  eeee, even the names of them make you feel like putting on a tweed suit and glasses, don’t they?  

i took reference last spring with some good pals.  it was an overwhelming, yet enjoyable, experience.  on the first day, our professor basically said that the goal of the class would be to evaluate usability (read: memorize) 250 reference books in the library.  that way, if a patron ever came to me and asked how they could join a club whose goal was to amass the world’s largest collection of ceramic mugs, i would know that the place to find this information is (bugle noise here) the encyclopedia of associations!  (and of course, such an association does exist.  i forget what it’s called, though.)

somewhat off-topic public service announcement: in reference class, i also spent a buttload of time putting together an annotated list of useful books and websites for individuals who have recently been diagnosed with type one diabetes.  if you ever need a copy of this info, i’d be happy to send it to you.  just email me or write in the comments.

so all in all, i very much enjoyed reference.  but since i started library skool, i always had a pit of dread in my stomach for cataloging.  it was terrible, i heard!  hard, tedious, booooring, and somewhat weird.  i didn’t even really know what i’d be doing in this class, i just knew that it was going to be bad.  

and it definitely started off that way.  for my first paper, i wrote 17 pages on library online public access catalogs.  worst.  paper.  ever.  oh mylanta, i wanted to stick a pencil in my eye to punish myself for being so freaking BORING.  it was truly nightmarish.  and i was also scared stiff of my professor, candy: 

she is a cataloging genie!  and pretty famous in the li-berry world!  plus, she clearly is very talented not only in the art of the squeezebox, but also, she can wear an orange hat with aplomb.  and she’s also incredibly demanding. i think i came home from my first four weeks of class weeping in distress.  i was working my fingers to their nubs learning about boring old metadata and online searches, and we hadn’t even really started really catalogin’ yet!  

but then we did.  and of course, because i am the world’s biggest nerd, i absolutely loved it.  it was glorious!  first, we learned about something amazing and magical called subject headings.  they are these things: 

look at me, with my high-tech arrows!  and this unexplicable blue line that i will not try to take care of because it took all my skills to make these lil’ arrows and now i need to rest.  but anyhoo, you’ve prolly noticed these puppies on the inside cover of a book before.  and if you are like me (read: nerd), then you may have wondered how they got there, and why they were chosen.  and then you probably decided to go to library school to figure out how this magic happened.  oh wait, i am talking about me again, not you.  but i’ll tell you all about it anyways.  basically, the library of  congress (the baddest of the bad.  and by bad, i mean in the 1980s really really good way) has a REALLY complicated system and REALLY horribly confusing website that catalogers can access to assign descriptors to books.  i would go into this further, but then i might put you to sleep.  but, hark!  i will provide you with some descriptors for this website, if it were a book:

Lintzy on the loose: A diabetic bibliophile takes on the Boston Marathon, by Laura R. Lintz

Diabetic athletes – Biography – Massachusetts – Boston

Marathon running – Training – Massachusetts – Boston

Library education – Massachusetts – Boston

Insulin pumps

only one word exists for this process: RAD.  i just love @#$% like this.  

but just when i didn’t think things could get any better, it happened.  it finally happened!  whenever i tell anyone that i am going to library skool, they always guffaw and snort out the following question, “LIBRARY SKOOL?  WHAT DO YOU DO THERE, ANYWAYS?  LEARN THE DEWEY DECIMAL SYSTEM?”  

and i always responded with a bow and gentle shake of my head, and then a “noooo, we haven’t learned that yet.  i think we use the library of congress in our college library, anyways.”  but then!  it happened!  candy taught us how to use the dewey decimal system… and i just have to say, it’s antiquated, it’s tedious, it’s difficult, it’s arbitrary.  yet fascinating!  

i really will not bore you with the details of assigning a dewey decimal number to a book.  but i will dither on about how great it was to me to finally know what those tiny numbers on the spine of the book are!  honestly, it was kind of like the time helen saw rick moranis in our montreal hotel eating oatmeal… it was the humanization of something amazing.  so, just for a hoot, i will now give you a little classification chart of how you can assign a dewey number to this blog, if it were a book: 

Lintzy on the loose: A diabetic bibliophile takes on the Boston Marathon, by Laura R. Lintz

700            Arts and recreation

790                        Sports, games & entertainment

796                                    Athletic and outdoor sports and games

796.4                                             Weight lifting, track and field, gymnastics

796.42                                                       Track and field

796.424                                                                 Distance races

769.424 L4                                                                        By Lintz

whoa.  i was just overwhelmed by my coolness.  the class is all dunzo now, and i am still in that happy no-more-homework-and-stress afterglow.  and to make matters even more magical, candy gave me a hug after our last class.  and we all know that the best kinds of hugs are candy hugs.  buy me an orange hat and squeezebox… future in cataloging, here i come!

today’s book review:

american wife, by curtis sittenfeld

who WOULDN’T love a papier mache giving tree? and a thinly veiled account of laura bush’s life?

tiny

over thanksgiving, the bp’s wonderful mom, barb (aka my mother-in-law), served us some delicious punkin cake. but alas, she did not have enough forks! so she gave me this tiny pickle fork:

barb was apologetic, but eric’s equally wonderful older sister thea (aka my sister-in-law and mom to the cutest and smartest baby ever born) immediately said, “don’t worry, mom! laura loves anything that’s cute and tiny!”

truer words do not exist. and in honor of thea and her soothsaying, i’d like to post two tiny bits of information:

1. i have officially been approved for a continuous glucose monitor! i am 100% covered by blue cross blue shield (i knew my wonky blood sugar would eventually lead to something good), and it shipped yesterday! i should have the cgm by tuesday, which means that i am one step closer to becoming a robot. next year’s halloween costume will definitely involve a red dress and pinafore.

2. another long run with my team is in the books. the freakazoid in tights (me) completed a six-miler at a much quicker pace than usual. hootie hoo!

book recommendation for a tiny person:

bread and jam for frances, by russell hoban, pictures by lillian hoban.

my all-time favorite picture book… i wish i had little salt and pepper shakers that i could pack in my lunchbox. that frances was so lucky!

choo choo

one of the most unexpectedly joyful things about our wedding was the dj who randomly showed up. he was not supposed to be there. nope, the baby panda toiled long and hard to find a good spinderella who promised that he and only he would be there on our big day. but in a strange turn of events (which apparently tend to happen on or near your wedding day– there’s a story about a broken toof that is now almost funny and maybe someday i’ll even feel okay if you ask me about it in person), a man who was clearly not our dj showed up with a boombox and no knowledge of any songs that we’d asked for. but apparently, what he did bring with him were some mad dj skillz. the day is hazy (a combination of joy and labbatt blue, i think), but i do remember him shouting something to the effect of, “this is how we party in vegas all night long!” (in response, i quietly thought “meh?”.) i also remember that about midway through the night, i was leading a conga line, accompanied by the quad city dj’s ever-awesome come on ride the train. if you know me AT ALL, you know that i am not exactly the type of person to go around leading conga lines… but there you are.

in a weird way, that’s kind of how i feel about training for the marathon so far. (HA! you didn’t think you’d be reading about running! hurray for extended introductions and odd transitions!) much like leading a conga line, running is not something that i would have thought would suit me. i am neither lean nor fast. my legs are the opposite of long. in my life, i have been called stumpy about 905 times more than i’ve been called gangly. (ahem, i have never ONCE been called gangly.) but i keep going. JUST LIKE I KEPT THE CONGA LINE GOING! (i am clearly not stretching at all to make this simile work.)

so far, our training has been pretty simple. this saturday, our long run will be 6 miles. not even a quarter yet of the 26.2 that i have thought about every day for the past two months, and that i’ll continue fixating on until april 19. during the week, we’ve been doing between 2 and 3 miles. these short runs suit me really well… this is the first time in over a year that my legs have felt really RESTED and pain-free. running buddy erin and the baby panda are the main recipients of my daily pain-free gloats, and they both remind me that it’s only going to get harder. (practicality is a trait that i look for in husbands and friends… it offsets my sense of whimsy very well.)

in that vein, i remind myself that in one month, we’ll be running ten miles, which is my turning-point distance. anything under ten miles, i usually feel okay about. but once you hit those double digits, that’s when you know you’re on a long freaking run. that’s when the idea of a water stop sounds really appealing, and that’s also when i need to start being really aware of my blood sugar. (fingers crossed, i am working with the joslin diabetes clinic and medtronic diabetes to be approved for a– bugle noise herecontinuous blood glucose monitor! this will hopefully really help me on my long runs, so please shoot any good diabetes vibes toward blue cross blue shield on my behalf.)

weekday runs continue to be quick jaunts home from work, accompanied by my little green backpack, stuffed with my essentials. (the whole run home is 5.1 miles, but i have lately been just running two or three miles, and then catching the bus home, at the risk of being called a quitter by the boofer busdriver. not a lie.) every other weekend, i do my long runs with my boston marathon team, which consists of the boston partners in education runners, as well as runners from four other non-profit organizations. we are led by the peerless coach rick muhr, who is both fiesty and fast.

on weekends when i am not running with the team, i have been running with the lovely and steadfast erin. and last week, i got to run with my amazing sister-in-law, sarah! we had a nice run through picturesque spencerport, new york. the only downside was a few wrong turns that we had to offset by running through people’s lawns. we thankfully mostly avoided the bb gun shots (those things hurt) that peppered us on our SECOND dash across someone’s lawn. (just kidding. that didn’t happen. just kidding, it did. sarah and i run at the speed of light and laugh in the face of danger. just kidding. i was trying to make the story sound more exciting and besides, bb guns make me nervous.)

so that’s my training so far. i am feeling optimistic right now (i know! i know! it’s only going to get harder!) about both my training and my fundraising. (thanks and kudos to all those who have donated! not real kudos bars. i am not sure if they even make those anymore.) not so optimistic about my winter running suit. i think that i look like a freakazoid in tights. freakazoid is a word i haven’t used in 16 years, but i think it’s the best descriptor in this instance.

today’s book review:

fun home: a family tragicomic, by alison bechdel

my first graphic novel, and what a great way to get acquainted with this genre. unique and poignant. not exactly fun, though.