I was deeply moved today by an entry Kerri posted over at Six Until Me. (You DO read "Six Until Me", don't you?) She wrote of being inspired by something she found over at the PostSecret site. She invited readers to leave anonymous comments telling what they might put on a PostSecret postcard.
The response was incredible. I wanted to cry as I read, wanted to offer people hugs, wanted to tell them that they were okay, tell them that I understand at least partly what diabetes does to both the PWDs themselves and the people around them.
But the thing that bothered me most was how many of the comments spoke of feeling hurt by the comments or actions of other members of the PWD community. Some of this was between types, some of it within types. So, because this blog is the biggest megaphone I have available, I want to make a plea:
Please, folks. Be gentle with each other. This disease is tough enough.
The subjects we discuss are important ones, and there's always going to be disagreement. And when people disagree on issues that touch at their cores, tempers can flare. But we can agree without being disagreeable. Even if you think somebody's a jerk, there's no point in saying so: just being a jerk isn't proof that they're wrong in what they're saying. As the old saying goes, we can disagree without being disagreeable.
If you disapprove of how someone manages their diabetes, or other aspects of their health, or something else in their lives, please think twice (heck, think ten times!) before being critical. In this kind of forum, even the kindest of unsought advice may be inappropriate and hurtful. When we criticize someone sharply, there is essentially no chance that we're doing them any good - and, beyond the momentary relief of getting something off of our chests, we're not doing ourselves any good, either.
In these virtual communities, we generally know so little about each other - often, all we see is a screen name. But it's important to remember that real, breathing people are behind those screen names, people that are very much like we are even if some circumstances are very different.
Please, friends. Let's be gentle with each other
(Originally posted to diabetesdaily.com)
In the pursuit of almost any hobby or enthusiasm, it's possible to reach a point of wackiness, where one cuts one's ties with normality.
In case you're ever asked to testify at a hearing, you'll want to write down that I may have reached that point of wackiness this weekend and passed it with a whoosh.
If you follow me here or on Twitter, you know that since just before Thanksgiving, I've been cooking up a storm. I've learned a lot, and I've had a lot of fun. Somewhere along the line, I started getting interested in making homemade versions of some commonly purchased foods in order to pursue my own balance of taste and healthfulness. Perhaps, for example, I could produce a whole-grain pasta that didn't taste like a building material.
On Saturday morning, I made cheese.
Let me repeat, just for the convenience of the social services judge: I made cheese.
It was actually a pretty easy procedure (this is the one I followed). Heat the milk to almost boiling, turn off the heat, add vinegar, let it sit, drain it through cheesecloth. The result was something like a ricotta cheese. It was smooth, sweet, and delicious.
As is often the case when I make something for the first time, this was what I call a "proof of concept" effort, a sort of a trial run just to see if I can pull it off. This version certainly isn't low fat - I started with whole milk. Now that I know I can do it, I can start looking at low-fat and non-fat versions.
If you might be interested in trying this yourself, here are a couple of things I'd do differently next time. First, since the yield was around two cups, and that's a lot of cheese for a single person to eat in a week, I'd probably halve the recipe: this would also make the procedure a little more manageable. Also, I think I might add a little more salt, and stirring some fresh herbs in would probably work rather nicely.