And it was! For the most part, everything was pretty smooth sailing:
- The tailor put a hidey-hole "pocket" in my dress that was completely invisible but allowed for easy access to the pump clipped to my Spanx. (Alas, no true pocket - the matte satin and cut of the dress simply did not allow for pump bulge.) I'd been nervous about trusting my cuff for all the dancing and walking down aisles I had on my agenda, and I think this was the perfect solution. If only I could afford to have her put faux pockets in all my dresses
- I remembered all my supplies. Well, except for the Dexcom charger. Which sucked, since it would have been nice to have that information during a weekend of different eating habits and restricted access to food and meter.
- My hair and makeup - while quite over the top for me - didn't make me look like some strange Barbie version of myself. It did, apparently, make me look like a "naughty librarian" though. Oh, the laughing from our table mates when we heard THAT one from another guest...
- The mushroom tart I had for dinner was AMAZING. (Although there was a bit of a disaster post-ceremony where I accidentally ate something with crab in it and thought I was going to projectile vomit all over the pretty wedding party.)
- So many of the people I'd met over the past few months, and the new ones I met for the weekend, were great. A lot of folks I thought "I could be friends with this person if I met them at home." Not surprising that someone I love so much has a lot of wonderful people in her life, but it still made me really happy to see.
So I returned to Brooklyn - my poor, tornado-damaged borough - on Saturday with a bit of a heavy heart. My numbers, as is always the case, reflected my doom and gloom, making mountains and valleys on my log graph and making me feel like I got run over by an MTA bus.
And then Monday happened: happy news from my CDE about the logs from the previous week. Immediately, I was in love with the world again. Working 12-hour days? Pshaw. They loved my numbers! Missed deadlines because of coworkers? No matter - think of that email! I've spent the week swishing and twirling, thrilled at the change in circumstances (and the end of my self-flagellation - I mean, c'mon. She LOVED MY NUMBERS)...until this morning happened: Dex Jr. inexplicably kicked the bucket, shrieking and seizing his way to death as I exited the Q train.
Rough week for Karen and the 'betes - the emotional roller coaster is as bad as the simultaneous BG ups and downs that have accompanied it. I know I'll come back up (always do!), but damned if those dips aren't brutal.