They Buy Me Splenda.

Some people have life-long friends; friends they grew up alongside since childhood. Some people have friends they can call up at any time; friends they can talk to about anything; friends who know (and keep) your secrets.

I don't really have anyone who fits that first sentence - that's a story for another time. But I'd like to say that I very much cherish the few people I can count in that second category. 

Of my three closest girlfriends, one of them lives in Nebraska - but not in the same city as me. One of them I visited this past weekend in Kansas City, and the other lives in Connecticut. (You know, from when I thought it was a brilliant idea to move halfway across the country? She's the best outcome I could have asked for from that situation.) It's hard, because I'd love to have them all here; to have people I can just meet up with spontaneously - my imagination would have us all living fabulously like the Sex and the City girls, going out together and lunching on Sunday mornings. But, sadly, it's not quite like that - geography and real life keep us apart far more than we'd all like.

That bird hat would make a great
insulin pump hide-out. And they'd
totally get it.

When I do get to spend a few days with either of the non-Nebraskan girls, the little things they do for me are just... endearing. They get that I might need a snack, or that the time we're eating dinner that day will matter, or that I'll need to see food labels (when available). It's no big deal for me to check my blood sugar right in the middle of the waiter taking our order - they don't flinch. They ask how my numbers are doing; how I'm feeling. They keep juice on hand. And, bless their hearts, they keep a box of Splenda in the cabinet for me.

Having people that not only "get me" as a person, but who "get me" as a person with diabetes too - that's rare. And I love them for it.