For us insulin users, finding ways to conceal all the stuff we have to lug around every day has always been challenging. I’m now using a runner’s iPod armband holster around my ankle (when we go out) to stow gel tubes that are just too bulky for the pockets of dress pants.

For Jason Panchalk of Pima County, Arizona, the issue of carrying his syringes recently reared its ugly head, butt he was up to the task. And he’s not even diabetic. Bet you won’t be saying, “Now why didn’t I think of that?” after you read this.

From the Waste Not, Want Not Department, here's a clinic that gets a lot of mileage out of a syringe.

Also, are you burned out at work? Last week, the “Beeb” did this piece on stressed out Israeli workers with an increased tendency toward developing Type 2 diabetes.

Finally, what would you call insulin for a former NBA star from Sudan? Check out today’s Diabetic Terms & Conditions to find out.

And have a great leap-weekend everyone!!

Some random thoughts on Rhode Island.

A dichotomy of good and not-so-good exists shoulder to shoulder within the borders of the Ocean State, making for some bittersweet memories. Here are a few highlights and lowlights of our visit. Let’s start with the lowest of the lowlights, to get them out of the way for the good stuff to follow.

The junior senator from New York arrived in Rhode Island for some campaigning, but not before disinviting the mayor of Providence, who once headed her state campaign as chairman, over contentious union issues.

It is not too much of a stretch to say that Collier County, Florida has Rhode Island beat in terms of budgeting for snow removal.

Last week, Rhode Islanders saw the sentencing of a convicted former House Majority Leader who used his power in the legislature to benefit CVS and Blue Cross of RI while being paid big bucks by the two organizations for other outside business at the time.

More sadly, a former state senator and local town administrator was found dead of an apparent suicide after being found guilty of conspiracy and bribery charges in a scheme to shake down would-be buyers in a land deal.

Number 4 on the list of the Top Ten Things Overheard Inside The RI State Prison: “The food here was a lot better when you were in office, Governor.”

Shutting down the reckless state legislature (as it continues to far outspend the people’s ability to pay) would go a long way toward fixing things in the Ocean State.

Look up “pot hole” in your Funk & Wagnalls and you will learn that it has now become the Rhode Island State Mascot.

Now for the highlights.

In ten days, there was not enough time to put even a small dent into the number of truly great restaurants in the state. A couple of the best kept secrets of RI include the Moulin Rouge in Tiverton, and Roberto’s in Bristol.

The narrow side streets of Newport are lined with a plethora of beautiful colonial and federal style homes from the 1700s, and most of the respective owners take great pride in keeping their houses looking so good it’s as if they were built yesterday.

A trip to RI without taking in a show at Trinity Rep in Providence is like eating a box of Cracker Jacks and forgetting about your prize.

Where else can you find something called a Luca Bratsie’s (their spelling) Hot Seafood Pizza but at The Red Parrot? Yes, that’s scallops, shrimp, and crabmeat underneath all that mozzarella, parmesan, olive oil, and garlic. Your insulin pump better not be sleeping with the fishes after a slice of this tasty pie!!

Anticipating the usual heavy-handed treatment at T.F. Green Airport (where the terminal is named after, what else, a politician,) I was astonished when three simple words (“I am diabetic”) got me, my five Capri Sun juices, and a big ol’ 16 ounce plastic bottle of OJ, right through security without so much as a whimper of interrogation.

St. Mary’s Church was built in 1848 and dedicated in 1852. One hundred one years later, 750 guests saw Jacqueline Lee Bouvier walk down the aisle in her ivory silk taffeta gown, just before adding “Kennedy” to her name.

Dee Snyder of Twisted Sister led a charity concert in Providence for the benefit of those who survived the tragic fire five years ago at The Station Night Club. Acts included heavy metal bands, country music artists, and even former Chicago dummer Danny Seraphine and his band, CTA.

Among the best things Rhode Island has to offer are restaurants like the White Horse Tavern, quaint villages like Wickford, and scenic vistas such as those along Ten Mile Drive and The Cliffwalk. Experiencing these and other of the state’s assets makes you want to return again and again.

A decent glass of water can often be had from pretty much any tap in most places in the state.

Even in February, Mark Malkovich III is working behind the scenes on the upcoming 40^th anniversary season of The Newport Music Festival. This July, concertgoers will see and hear some of the world’s finest classical musicians performing in magnificent settings that include mansions like The Breakers (it's the "cottage" shown in the photo above,) Marble House (where scenes from The Great Gatsby were filmed,) and Ochre Court at Salve Regina University (set of the opening scene in Arnold Schwarzenegger’s, True Lies.) Years ago, I had the pleasure of working with Mark and his family, and they never fail to assemble a line-up of the most talented, energetic, and charismatic musicians from all over the world (many of whom made their American debut at the festival) to enthrall audiences of all ages.

Boston Magazine’s New England Travel & Life presented its first annual Best Winery award to Sakonnet Vineyards in 2006. I’m not a huge wine drinker, but I have to mention this great place that first broke ground in 1975 right in my home town of Little Compton. Tours and tastings go on all year long in a beautifully secluded setting that includes a café, wine store, B&B, and of course, acres of lovingly nurtured grapes!

I neglected to mention last week that the Colony House in Washington Square was used for shooting courtroom scenes in the movie Amistad. If you’ve seen the film, here’s what the area behind the building looks like when Steven Spielberg is not in town turning back the clock a couple of centuries. If I recall correctly, the asphalt, curbings, and traffic signals of this intersection were expertly disguised or removed to look like something straight out of the mid 19^th century.

For at least as long as I’ve had diabetes, I’ve maintained a list of 50 things that I would like to do before I die, periodically revising various entries to better reflect my interests as they have changed over time. My passion for things of true quality is tied to my woodworking hobby, and although I have completed a number of miscellaneous small projects, #14 on my “list of 50” remains unfulfilled: hand-carve a wooden ball & claw.

So it was not without a teensy trace of excitement that I was able to walk over to the America’s Cup Avenue showroom of world-class furniture maker Jeffrey Greene, The Ball & Claw. On this snowy Friday afternoon, I was welcomed into the store by a wonderfully knowledgeable woman named Carol, who provided a bit of history on Mr. Greene’s career in making reproduction period furniture based on the masterpiece works of Goddard and Townsend, the finest furniture makers of 18^th century Newport.

Many examples of Greene’s work are showcased on both floors of the shop. I found tea tables, highboys, lowboys, mirrors, boxes, and shelves of books on American furniture authored by Greene and others. I was free to inspect the furniture as closely and for as long as I liked, and while I always knew Greene to be a preeminent expert in the field, seeing and running my pock-marked fingertips over the fabulous pieces he has produced left me with no doubt as to his ranking among the most gifted furniture craftsmen on Earth. Subtle, telltale signs in his workmanship indicate the absence of modern production methods, as if the very soul of the artisan resides beneath the surface of the wood.

An unmistakable quality and authenticity exudes from every piece of work in The Ball & Claw showroom. It comes from Greene’s passion for getting things right. He is self-taught, works alone, and established for himself a work environment that allows few, if any, interruptions in the course of his day. Productivity on this level is impossible to achieve when distractions continually break up the flow of meticulous concentration. That clients willingly wait two years or more for delivery of their orders attests to the significance of owning one of his pieces.

For me, there was no greater magnetism than that coming from a corner chair in the middle of the first floor display. Everything about this piece demonstrates unsurpassed excellence in craftsmanship, from the virtually perfect antique leather upholstered seat, to the open talon ball & claw feet. If you look closely at the above photo, you will see the open space that Greene has carved between the surface of the ball and the underside of the talon. This astonishing attention to painstaking detail was the order of the day for Newport’s finest craftsmen of the 1700s. Today, workmanship of this caliber demonstrates an inspiring exercise in quality that I am very thankful to have experienced firsthand.

When I get back home, I’m going to start right in on #14. You’ll understand if I don’t share a photo when it’s done, won’t you?

Imagine my shock, horror, and dismay when I learned that La Petite Auberge is now a Mexican food joint. Sadly, these things happen when the market for $40 escargot dries up.

Actually, La Petite Auberge was one of those places we went to just once or twice, and only on extra, extra special occasions, like during the week right before we were married. It’s gone now, but that’s OK, we probably wouldn’t have done any more than walk past the door for a sniff of the Cailles Farcie au Foie Gras. All wicked expensive things must come to an end. Except maybe gasoline.

Meals are always a concern for us diabetics, but especially so when we’re on the road. Here in Newport Nancy & I have fallen into a ritual of 6:00am coffee from the Dunkin’ Donuts next door to the hotel. I sneak a few sips of orange juice for some “C” while I’m at it, and start the day’s carb counting. By the time I get back with our java, I need something to thaw me out. So I heat up some H2O in the coffee maker in the room, and make myself some instant oat meal.

On that score, the temps have plummeted from the 50s when we first arrived, down into the teens last night, and there is snow in the forecast for tomorrow. I’ve developed a cold that has me feeling exquisitely rotten, but I ventured out anyway last night to take advantage of something that I may never have another crack at: shooting a lunar eclipse with the beautifully illuminated steeple of Trinity Episcopal Church in the foreground.

With a borrowed tripod and dressed like Randy, the little brother in A Christmas Story, I made my way over to Queen Anne Square, where the church is wrapping up its third century on the corner of Spring and Church Streets as one of the most recognizable landmarks on the Newport skyline. I’m told that some of the notable figures who have visited the structure include George Washington and Queen Elizabeth II, and that Trinity’s organ was once played in England by George Frideric Handel before being delivered to Newport.

Whenever Nancy inquires as to why a particular task du jour has gone unfinished, my stock response is always, “No job is ever as simple or as straightforward as it originally appears to be.” This is true whether you’re swapping out an empty reservoir, or taking a simple picture of a steeple and the moon. Something always adds at least a little to complicate things. In last night’s case, I had failed to account for the many mature trees that guard portions of the church’s perimeter. Fortunately, most trees are not in bloom on February 20^th, so their interference wasn’t altogether crushing. But while the building itself was relatively unobstructed; the night sky was full of quick-moving clouds that obscured the moon above them. Objects in motion can help or hinder a long exposure photograph. In this case, it was the latter.

At a little after 10:00pm I had located the one spot where the tree branches were at a minimum and the moon was still able to be framed along with the steeple. In the freezing darkness, I worked with a penlight clenched in my teeth. A fellow wearing not much more than a jogging suit was walking his dog, and we exchanged derisive comments about the cold. After a few more minutes, between dealing with my nasty cold symptoms and bracketing a bunch of pictures, I decided that my evening was complete, and that I could return to the hotel having done everything in my power to make myself even sicker than I already was.

Today I am still feeling like crap, but thankfully no worse than last night. So my plan is to venture across the street to Panera Bread in a few minutes for some nice hot soup and a tasty sandwich. I owe them at least that much for having the best free Wi-Fi in the city. ;^)

Today the Go Do A TEST!! Roadshow is coming to you from beautiful and historic downtown Newport, Rhode Island.

Beautiful because you can stroll along Thames Street, or past some of the “cottages” down on Bellevue Avenue, or any of hundreds of little side streets containing landmarks like Trinity Church, The White Horse Tavern, the Brick Market, and the International Tennis Hall of Fame.

Historic not just because George Washington was honored by Rochambeau at Colony House (where, I am told, the General/eventual-President addressed the crowded square from its second floor balcony.) Not because of Fort Adams and its place in American history. Not because in 1983 the Aussies ripped the America’s Cup from Dennis Connor and the once firm grip (since 1857) of the New York Yacht Club. (I’m still not OK with that.) Nor is it historic because the old Dockside Saloon is where I got to meet the fabulous Matt “Guitar” Murphy of the Blues Brothers.

No, Newport is historic for me because this is where yours truly first met NancyTW in 1991. Of course, she would have first been NancyTG (the girlfriend) and eventually NancyTF (the fiancé.)

After arriving Sunday, we had lunch at the site of our first date, Yesterday’s, in Washington Square. Opposite Eisenhower Park and its larger than life statue of Newport’s own Oliver Hazard Perry, Yesterday’s is a nice, informal pub/restaurant that’s easily accessible from anywhere downtown – unless you’re using a car. For those burdened with four-wheeled vehicles, you must first burn off a tank of gas looking for a space to park, and ultimately settle on one in Milwaukee.

But it’s worth it. Newport has lots of fun stuff to do and experience, and there is no shortage of eateries for every desire on the scale of culinary preferences. Carb counting is, after all, the same in the Brick Alley Pub as it is at La Petite Auberge. Some places just require that your math be done in a jacket and tie.

And if I am in Newport on the happy day that diabetes is cured, I will take a bullhorn, find my way up to George Washington’s second floor balcony at Colony House, and announce the good news personally to the passerby below in Washington Square.

You will throw my bail, won’t you?

Yes, I know that’s what it seems like, but the end is finally here. Just a few more tidbits to clean up about the Galapagos Islands and I’ll be able to start writing about my solo summit of Everest without supplemental oxygen last Tuesday. :^T

The city of Quito has its share of people struggling on the bottom rungs of the economic ladder. Just as our bus was returning to the Marriott, a red light forced us to a stop. Immediately, the boys in this picture ran into the street right in front of us. One of them got down on all fours, and the other climbed up onto his back and began to juggle some pins for his captive audience. The light cycled green, the boys hopped back onto the median, and we drove off.

Later in the day, as our bus passed the same two kids, I leaned out of the large, open window and tossed a wrinkled up dollar bill in their direction in return for the earlier performance. One of them ran like a deer, scooped up the tip, and clenched it between the fingers of his right hand while smiling and waving. I stuck out the camera and quickly shot this grainy photo of my Ecuadoran street performer friends.

Obviously, we spent a good deal of time around Blue Footed Boobies, and got to see them dancing, resting, and feeding their young. But one noteworthy trait of these beautiful sea birds simply cannot go without mention: their plunge diving. Often seen fishing near shore, the blue foots circle in a flock about fifty to one hundred feet up, and when something in the water catches their interest, they accelerate into a nosedive, not merely falling, but powering themselves downward, closer to the surface until, at the very last second, wings are pulled in, feet are swooped back, and bill is aimed directly downward. They assume so drastic a streamlined figure that they appear to transform themselves into a narrow, piercing, spear. This photo shows one just about to enter the water. Off to the left is the slightest little splash from another bird that is already submerged, and at the top is yet a third boobie in the process of pulling in his wings for another perfect 10 dive. All of this happens in the blink of an eye, at breakneck speed, and when they do it in large numbers, it is a truly remarkable sight.

On our final full day, we spent some time walking “Tortoise Territory” in the fields of Rancho Mariposa, a private farm in the highlands of Santa Cruz Island on which giant Galapagos tortoises roam wild. In an agreement with the National Park Service, the farm owners are not developing the land, and make it available for small guided tours. In the acres of tall grass and trees were numerous giant tortoises slowly meandering from place to place.

Along the trail, Ivan “the Terrible” detoured us into a couple of enormous lava tunnels. He explained that when lava flows, the outer surfaces cool and harden first, and the inner molten lava continues to flow. Sometimes, the inner liquid empties out from the hardened exterior, and leaves behind a void, forming a tunnel. At one point, a portion of the tunnel roof had collapsed, forming somewhat of a sunroof. In recent years, a tree had taken root in the tunnel floor, and grown straight up through the hole.

It was inside one of these tunnels that I began to notice some strangely colored rocks, which, having never been inside a lava tunnel before, I assumed to be normal. But then I noticed various pieces of clothing on our fellow travelers also turning rather odd shades. On the spot, the trusty old glucose meter estimated my blood sugar at 32mg/dl, diving like a hungry boobie. With Nancy’s help, out came the juice and a few tablets, and I was soon safely back in Tortoise Territory.

So that’s the nickel tour of our trip to the Galapagos Islands. In review: Quitones, thin air, Pululagua Crater, Quito Cathedral, Jesuit Cathedral, Plaza de Independencia, Equator, worldwide waisteline, zero degree latitude, two pounds less, TAME Airlines, Baltra, weight restrictions, Espanola, Punta Suarez, North Seymour, naturalists, mesh bags, Humboldt Current, Zodiacs, snorkeling, Panama Current, lava lizards, Darwin Restaurant, Ivan “The Terrible,” Kicker Rock, Discovery Lounge, land iguanas, jumping dolphins, marine iguanas, fifteen foot swells, finches, mockingbirds, American Oystercatchers, masked boobies, Galapagos Flycatchers, blowhole, Sally Lightfoot Crabs, fur seals, Galapagos Hawks, sea lions, pups, Galapagos Doves, wet landings, dry landings, Bachas Beach, Santa Cruz, sea turtles, flamingos, eels, pig roast, Bartolome Island, lava tunnel, Buzz Aldrin, Pinnacle Rock, mangroves, penguins, 374 feet, Giovanna, Floreana, Cormorant Point, Post Office Bay, pintail ducks, stilts, Devil’s Crown, turtle tracks, pelicans, hammerheads, archipelago, Santiago Island, James Bay, Manuel, volcanic ash, feral goats, Judas goats, lens hood, Larry Bird, lava bridges, basaltic lava shore, noddy terns, lava cactus, Espinoza Point, Freddie, salt rockets, Flightless Cormorants, Fernandina, Dr. Kodak, Porta Aroya, Dragon Hill, “Esto es un robo,” Top Cat, giant tortoise, Lonesome George, Darwin Research Station, yellow warblers, street performers, plunge diving, and Rancho Mariposa.

Oh, and a sunset or two.

Aside from that, we didn’t do much. ;^)

Many of us remember watching Saturday morning cartoons when we were kids, so it came as no surprise when Nancy and I walked into a roadside souvenir shop in Port Ayora on Santa Cruz and saw a couple of youngsters perched in front of an old black and white television. It was Saturday morning, and the boys were eating breakfast with a spoon from their hand held bowls. Of course, even here in the Galapagos, they were enjoying cartoons, very old cartoons – Top Cat, broadcast in Spanish.

We bought a few trinkets to bring home, and headed back through town on foot. The others had opted for a bus ride back from the Charles Darwin Research Station, where we had spent several hours learning about the conservation practices in the archipelago, and primarily about the giant tortoises that serve as symbolic ambassadors for the Galapagos Islands.

Our guide for the morning was naturalist Ivan “the Terrible!,” and we were always glad to have him. He spoke about the different tortoise species on the various islands, and explained how the exploitation of these animals led, in one case, to just a single remaining 70 to 90 year old male that was thus named “Lonesome” George. Later, in seeking to preserve George’s subspecies, it was determined through DNA tests that a few of George’s kin existed on another island. Apparently, seamen of decades long past must have captured the animals from George’s island home and loaded them onto their ships as food before setting sail for other parts. Because giant tortoises are able to live upwards of an entire year without eating, pirates and whalers stowed the animals aboard their ships to take advantage of their slow metabolism. Somehow, perhaps in a shipwreck, a few tortoises regained their liberty on another island, and were able to survive in their new habitat.

At the Darwin Station, Lonesome George wasn’t doing much of anything, other than lounging around his pool, and he wasn’t interested in us, either. We passed by several pens containing dozens of baby tortoises, each one marked with a number on its shell that created a sort of slow motion demolition derby. A century from now, the numbers will probably be long gone and these little creatures will be roaming wild and weighing in at 600 pounds or more.

The walk back to the dock took us past a fish market, where an audience of pelicans jockeyed for position to get a taste of the spoils.

The last uninhabited area we visited was Dragon Hill on Santa Cruz Island. Home to birds such as vegetarian finches, herons, stilts, yellow warblers, Galapagos mockingbirds, and Chatham mockingbirds, we also were lucky to see a handful of land iguanas in their barren, parched homestead. Considerably larger than marine iguanas, they neither gathered in numbers nor exhibited the same sociability, preferring solitude over camaraderie.

In the final chapter of our journey to these fantastic islands: walking amongst giant tortoises in the wild of the highlands on Santa Cruz Island; treating a 32 mg/dl blood sugar inside a lava tunnel; a last (but very different) look at Blue Footed Boobies.