Nice Pants. Oops! Nope...I Mean Trousers!

This particular post is about diabetes, fashion and fun stuff!! But mostly fun stuff.
It's been a long time, my friends. Life got away on me for a bit. And now, how to even begin to catch up? So I will just say it.

We moved.

That's right, I am a temporary British citizen. A UK-er of sorts. A not-so-proper Englishwoman.

Mr. Man was offered a two year minimum position here in the English Midlands and we jumped at the chance. The short story of it all is that Don had a conversation with a manager at work about possible opportunity for movement within the company, meaning, in the same building. Next thing you know...Don texts me to ask if I wanted to move to England. I said sure. And here we are, a few months later.

My head is whirling with all that I could say. Should I talk about all the millions of details it takes to ship oneself to another country to reside? Or the silly notion I had that it would be no big deal and would all work itself out? Or the mental and emotional exhaustion that ensues whilst planning a move of this magnitude even whilst believing that silly notion? Within a two month period?

Or should I talk about the gorgeous countryside with sheep roaming the luscious green rolling hills and the winding roads with peaks and valleys and the ancient architecture found all around?

Or, how about our near death experiences driving opposites on 100 mile an hour motorways or two-way, one lane (1 car width, no shoulder, stone hedged) paved cart paths that we drive on quite regularly to get anywhere and everywhere? How sometimes, when meeting oncoming traffic, one of you must back up until opportunity presents itself to move over in order to squeak by?

Or maybe I could tell you how even though we all speak the same language (which you'd think was obvious, but one person actually asked me if they speak English here when finding out about our move), there are many nuances and fascinating lingo that either a) make it tricky to understand or b) get me into trouble.  Compliment someone on their trousers, but not their pants (underwear). And don't even bother with the word fanny unless you are speaking with your gynecologist.

How about how fashion differs from North America? How people dress less casually here and always look good. (Unless it is Saturday in the supermarket and they are planning to go out in the evening. Then, then, the hair rollers come out to play.) Now that would be an interesting topic.

I could tell you about so many fascinating experiences we've had in only two short months, and I will. But for today I will just say this:

The people here are fantastic. From my awesome neighbours who lent us their wifi password or 50 inch TV or even their car, to the doctors at the "surgery" (Doctor's office) who have already proven themselves worthy to look after my best interests when it comes to my health and diabetes (which has been a bit of a roller coaster over this transition time, but is settling down now), to our new circle of friends who have showered us with hospitality and genuine love (always hugging goodbye - take THAT you stupid "British are stuffy or standoffish" stereotype!). I don't think I have ever encountered such a giving and helpful group of people as I have here in England.

I promise to tell you more about culture, food, people, style, spiders and Richard - the workman with no shirt, in the future.

 But now I have to go finish packing. For I am headed back home.
Yes. Already. Going to see my family, friends and P!nk in concert!
I will miss you England, but for even just a few short weeks.

Canada...here I come!

A Day in the Life...

Wanna hear about my day? Yes. Yes you do.

So in preparation for moving to England, I decided to practice driving on the wrong side of the road on my way to the city. No. Not really. That would be dumb. But I thought about it.

Whilst driving down Portage Avenue (a multi-laned street in Winnipeg), I encountered a young man darting through moving traffic to cross the street, back and forth, seemingly for fun. I think he was high. I could use some of that magic to boost my energy levels. But then again, I'd probably do something dumb like drive on the wrong side of the road.

Did you know that it is possible to hit 24 out of 26 red lights on the same street? I now know it is.

I had a lovely lunch eating vegetable sushi with a good friend (who also happens to be my cousin) and said my first goodbye. :( That was not cool.

But then I went to Costco and witnessed a 30ish year old woman wearing a short flowy dress, unloading her cart. Her dress length was not adequate for this situation. As she bent over, over and over, (she had a lot of stuff), nothing was left to the imagination. I suppose I could have helped her out by telling her she might want to bend at the knees, but I was feeling shy (entertained?) by this circumstance and instead, openly stared. It wasn't pretty. (Some situations grab your attention whether you want them to or not...)

So, after an uneventful drive home with Florence and the Machines and The Lumineers, I arrived at my house only to find Mr. Man on top of the barn roof, stripping! Of course not his clothes. That would be silly. And weird. Why climb a ladder when you can drop your pants on flat ground?.?)
No, he was stripping the shingles in order to put new ones on. Did I mention he was HOME ALONE ON TOP OF OUR RED HIP-ROOF VERY TALL BARN?!?!?

Boredom was apparently afraid of me today.

That is all.

My Very Own Cooking Show!

As I sit here eating my low-carb, vegetarian cauliflower crust pizza and savouring the flavour of pesto, sun dried tomatoes, black olives and feta, I have decided to register a complaint. I hope you are in that department.
I hate cooking.
Do you have any idea how much work eating healthy is?
Due to the diabetes (and a sh**load of other health issues) I am committed to taking nutrition and exercise very seriously. I wish I had taken that step a long time ago.
Thanks to google, there are no excuses for not finding awesome tasting, health-punchy food.
Excellent.

But oh how I miss those days of throwing a Delissio pizza in the oven for 25 minutes, waiting for the oven to beep, and wham! Supper.

So, I am at my computer, typing my frustrations to the world...stalling.

I should be making my homemade almond and coconut power bars. I take some with me every time I head out of my house for more than an hour. And I am fresh out.

You know, I wouldn't mind cooking so much if I was on a cooking show. First off, all the attention would be on me...the cameras, the crowd, they'd all be awed at my beauty and talent. My sequined shirt would sparkle in the bright lights above the counter, on which all the ingredients would be pre-chopped and measured by my minions...I mean, assistants, and I could just dump and stir. Then, magically all the mess would be cleaned up as I whip off my stain-free apron and just sit and chat with a celebrity, charming them with my witty humour, perfect hair, and stellar make-up.

I know, I know. Too far, Susie. Too far.

But seriously...wouldn't it be fabulous to have all the work of cooking done by someone else? (And also for the record...I am truly witty. ;)

Ahh, but bringing us all back to reality, it's simply not that easy.

So, where does that leave us? I'd say it leaves us with a challenge and that challenge is this: Will we put in the effort to do what our bodies need us to, in order to live a quality-filled, energetic life?

With that I will give myself a little pep-talk as my answer.

"Suck it up Susie and go make that power bar!"

Okay. My show awaits.

Too bad my wit will only be witnessed by Bob - one ear up and one ear down. At least he is a loyal audience ;)

 

The Power of Smile

I found myself in the emergency department recently. Interestingly enough, it wasn't for me. A family member had fallen and broke their arm in a nasty way. He's been patched up now and is on the road to recovery.
While in the hospital, I saw a man in a wheelchair, crippled and old. His whole body was badly misshapen, and the best way I can think to describe him was creepy-cartoonish. He was moaning in agony and it was obvious he would not be in this world much longer. My heart melted with sadness at such an awful way to die - slowly and painfully.
A few days later, I was getting groceries at Costco with Mr. Man and I saw a woman sitting crippled in a wheelchair by the door on our way out. This is when my mind seriously started to kick into thought.
Do people who are permanently stuck in a wheelchair feel jealous or angry at all those walking around them? Do they envy the ability to be totally independent and free from the restraint of metal and wheels?
As I walked away, I felt a stab of guilt due to my ability to walk and run and jump while that woman sat trapped forever in a chair.
It was then that I remembered that old man in the hospital. As I walked by and threw a quick smile his way, his face lit up with a grin so big it was probably painful.
Hmm...
Bitterness or contentedness.
An ongoing choice.
Some days, I feel a bit bitter from 30 years of diabetes and disease. I want to feel free from blood sugar meters, my insulin pump, pain, and all the damage my body has incurred from years of chronic illness. Sometimes, I feel tired. Really tired.
And then I think of that man in the hospital hallway, living out his last days in agony and still he has the ability to smile, full and wide.
Bitterness or contentedness.
A daily choice.
With that man in mind, how can I possibly sulk in the mire of self-pity?
How can I not smile?
I still feel sad when I think of that man. But my sadness has changed from melancholy benevolence to a feeling of loss - the loss that everyone who has come in contact with this man's shining light of contentedness will feel when he passes on.
I suppose in answer to my question, some people in wheelchairs probably do feel ripped off or envious of those free-moving people surrounding them. Then there will be others who are living life fully regardless of their limitations.

It is up to me to choose how I will live - Fully, or Regretfully.

Thank you sir for your smile and for lighting up that hallway.

Today, in honour of you old man, I choose...
A big fat smile.
:)

Cubalicious!

I'm back. From Cuba I mean. And I suppose also from this blog break I've been unintentionally taking.
Ahh, Cuba.
Paradise.
It truly was.
I could go on and on about the beautiful beaches, white sand, gorgeous landscaping, sculptured pools, swim-up bars and such. But really? Sorry. You had to be there.
So, rather, I will give you some insights into how holidays happen in the world of Susie Schwartz.

It started on the plane.
Mr. Man and I have a bit of a ladybug problem at home. Apparently that problem travelled with us.
Literally.
Don and I were sitting somewhat uncomfortably in our tiny seats, (although we had an extra seat so no complaints) and Don reaches over and nudges me, pointing ahead with his nose.
There it was. One of our little guys, crawling on the seat in front of us.
He explored the scary looking man's seat for awhile and then we lost sight of him.
Hmm. As we were landing in Cuba(!), the scary looking man was standing, trying to shake out the inside his shirt. Our little guy? Yup. Pretty sure. Well, I suppose he has a new owner now. But heck! That little guy is in Cuba! Now he just needs a mate to start an infestation there and he'll be in glory!
Guilt about not flicking it away? Just a little. But the pleasure of seeing where the little guy would end up was worth the guilt. Not gonna lie.
Enough about a ladybug.

We often ate at a very large buffet (the resort was huge!) and the Cubans really did pretty good serving so many people buffet style. Okay, so foodhandling is not their strength but I can't think about that. I have issues. They added some classy touches, like the fact that we were served our drinks and they had chocolate swan sculptures for decor at the dessert table.
Speaking of that beautiful chocolate swan...I saw a woman snap that sucker in half and put the chocolate on her plate to eat. Wow! PMS perhaps? Cuz what else would possess someone to eat the decor?! Maybe she was married to the classy man wearing red and white Canadian flag hammer pants to dinner. Um, Sir? If you are going to represent, umm, maybe not hammer pants please?

The pool.
Oh boy.
I could go on for pages.
I thought I would be bothered by my husband being surrounded by eye candy everywhere. And yes, there were a few hard bodies in bikinis. But honestly? I was more intimidated by the amount of speedos confidently walking around that place. Even pink flowered speedos. On a beer-bellied man married to a woman. Once again, hmm. Did you get your outfits mixed ups folks? Cuz those are little too small for you Sir. Avert your eyeballs, Susie. Avert your eyeballs. Unfortunately the image is forever burnt into them.
How about the white-haired man that was splashing me asking if he "got me wet" and pretending to be an underwater snake coming at me. Really? I mean, I know I am ravishingly beautiful and when the sun strikes my hair it shines like gold and I have the body of a model but...Okay. Seriously. So I have a large chest. It all  comes down to that apparently. All I can say is... Old. Creepy. Where is Mr. Man when I need him!?!
And Mr. Man's reaction when I told him? Uproarious laughter.
Thanks.
Knew I could count on you to protect me.

I saw a bad movie play out in front of me while I was once again alone, (So much for a romantic holiday. Apparently I was alone a lot.) sitting at the swim up bar. Three young guys were standing in a triangle discussing who gets which girl. Really? That happens in real life? Oh those poor girls. No respect. Before I could get on my soapbox and teach them a lesson they had divided to conquer. (No, I wasn't really going to give them a talking to. These things just happen in my head.) Look out hard bodies! Here they come!

It was a tad bit strange when I went into one of the public washrooms on the resort only to find a local man sitting on the partition of the stall I entered to use. Just sitting there. Looking down. I was startled.  He was not. Weird.
I used another stall.
What bothers me most about that particular situation is the fact that I will never know what he was doing just sitting up there. Or maybe I do know and am just in denial. Regardless, creepy.
Another unsolved mystery in my head is this: What did all the people do who didn't carry a bag to hold  a T.P. roll wherever they went? Cuz having T.P. in the washrooms is not a priority in Cuba.
I suddenly have a very suspicious view of that sculptured pool I swam in daily...

I won't talk about the foreign object I bit into one meal. Simply can't go there.

Only single working headlights on ALL the resort shuttles (It was that big!) except one. Oh wait. The other one just burnt out. Never mind.
Random cats wandering through the restaurants.
Man wearing underwear. Only underwear.
The list goes on.

 The entertainment on the resort was priceless.
No, we didn't go to any shows.
We just sat around with our eyes open.
Good times, good times.

I did meet a nice gentleman at the bar who recognized my insulin pump hanging off my bathing suit. He was in the process of deciding whether to get one or not so I went into my pump promotion mode and hopefully convinced him to get one. It is one of the best things I ever did for my diabetes. I think Mr. Man may have even bit a bit jealous sitting in the distance watching me talk to this attractive man for 10 minutes. Score! Mr. Man could use a little protective jealousy in his life when it comes to me.
Wait. Don't get too excited for me. That jealously, if even there, lasted all of a few seconds when I came back to report that he wasn't hitting on me, but rather having an intelligent medical conversation.
Cool though. Opportunity to motivate even so far away as Cuba!

So, thanks for the holiday Mr. Man. It was incredible.
For serious.
And I will be forever grateful for the laughter-filled memories made at Memories Resort.

I hope to meet again soon, Cuba. You rock.

Pink speedos and all.

:)

Pee? On me??

"...you may need someone to pee on you."

We are headed to Cuba tomorrow.

I've noticed there is a common theme on advice given to one who is planning a hot holiday.

"All you need is a bathing suit and lingerie."
"All you need is two bathing suits."
"All you need is one pair of shoes and two bathing suits."

Really?
Are you kidding me?
Do you not know me at all?!?!?

Let me set things straight. My list of things to bring is two full pages long and Mr. Man has his own list started.
Yes. That's right. And aside from perhaps a shirt or two, I can almost guarantee you that every. single. item. will. get. used.

I don't understand why I would travel all the way to Cuba just to be miserable because I have no sunglasses or underwear.

I mean, really.

Sunscreen. shampoo. sugar tables. beach sandals. dress sandals. cover up. beach bag. books. (Oh we'll be busy but there'll be plenty of time for books too.) deoderant. toothbrush. toothpaste. camera. Drugs. (Ahem, perhaps I will call them my medication starting tomorrow ;)

The list goes on and on.
Never mind the paper work.
Sure, the average person takes their passport and is good to go.
Me? Well. Add to passport, letter from my Dr. saying I have diabetes and need to carry syringes, that that is an insulin pump tucked between my boobs and not a weapon of mass destruction, copies of my regular prescriptions, copies of my special prescription, blah, blah, blah.
Ask Mr. Man. Nothing is simple with me.

So, thanks everyone, but your, "Two bathing suits and some thongs" (I'm sorry, do you mean flipflops by chance?? Cuz otherwise that's getting kinda personal...) doesn't fly with me.

The advice I will take however, is "Don't step on a jellyfish..."
Don would have to be a Chandler to my Monica. Not cool.

So I will pack my bag to its fullest capacity and I will be happy.
Happy and urine free.

:D

Forget Your Nuts?

This post has nothing to do with fashion, nor diabetes. Although I am going to talk about family and my fathers both have diabetes and my cousin Sally doesn't dress very well. (Okay, so I don't have a cousin named Sally but my Grandpa once sent a present in the mail for me addressed to "Sally" if that counts. And I didn't dress very well back then.)

Anyway, on to the interesting stuff.

So.

At Christmas I find we spend a lot of time hanging out with family and eating. No surprise there, right? There are always goodies such as nanaimo bars, pecan tarts, that "Crack" made of sugary and crispy and chocolaty something that my sister-in-law always makes and gets me hooked every time.

I am typing this from rehab.

Luckily, we also put out things like veggies with dip and nuts.

Speaking of nuts...

Sitting around the dining room table playing an innocent game of "Battle of the Sexes", one of my family members blurted out a confession I never would've seen coming. (Not the event, nor the confession.)
To protect her innocence, I'll just call this family member M-I-L from now on.

So, to recap, we are lounging around, playing a heated-in-a-fun-sort-of-way game when the topic of nuts came up. Someone said something like, "Are there any nuts?"  when M-I-L says, "I asked the shelf-stocker at the grocery store the other day if he would show me his nuts."

{Choke} {Spasm of laughter} {Tears streaming down my face}

What?

You asked him to show you his nuts?!?!?

"I-I-I was looking for the section of nuts and realized the second I said it what I had actually just asked..."

Her death flashed before my eyes. Her, lying on the grocery store floor, dy...ing of an embarrassment attack.

AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

If you only knew M-I-L! Her boys push her over the edge of disgust and frustration with their "inappropriate" humour all the time!

She said he handled it very professionally and quietly walked her to the nut aisle.

Ahahahahahahah!!!! I can't even think nor type the word "nut" without the giggles taking over.

I can only imagine what his family gathering looked like when he told his aunts and uncles what this perv of a 60-something woman asked of him.

Ahahahahahaha!!!

M-I-L, we love you. And we love you even more since you shared this with us. We have a new respect for you now that you have loosened up and come to the dark side of hilarious "inappropriate" Schwartz humour. Just know, we will mock you forever now.

So we all thank you, M-I-L, for spreading joy and merriment during this Christmas season.

Well gotta run. I am feeling sorta hungry.
The good thing about Christmas is the stuff people leave behind.
I think I'll go find my newly acquired nuts. ;)