Brown is Much Easier Than White
Last night I found myself in an unfamiliar kitchen shoveling down brown sugar in front of a somewhat concerned and scared lady.
It was the first night of a Bible study a friend invited me to where I knew nobody. Johnny, my CGM, alerts me that I'm low, so I go to my truck parked outside to find I have once again forgotten to replace my emergency stash of sugars.
I had to ask the hostess if she had any sugar. She is staying at her parents house. Dad is "some other type of diabetic," as she put it, and being a good boy he has annihilated all traces of sugar in the house so he won't be tempted.
We're scouring every nook and cranny for some source of sugar. Everything was diet or sugar free. Maybe he forgot to replace his emergency stash too.
I spot a small crystal bowl on the counter next to the coffee pot and have to ask if it is in fact my savior. Luckily it was brown sugar (much easier to eat than white, in case you have ever wondered.)
Without even asking I am scrambling through drawers to find a spoon and start to dig in as her face starts to look a little concerned for my sanity. She asked if I was in any danger. She was real sweet and knew enough to know it could be bad.
Nope, I told her, just a minor low. Minor except for the fact that I just ate sugar. Haven't done that since I was eight.