Diabetes-Inspired Dream Donuts?

Everybody sing. And a 1! And a 2!

I just heard about Tim Horton’s dream donuts. I haven’t tried them yet, but I was curious what they’re all about and whether I should. I’m still kind of curious about them, but they remind me of the Creamy Chocolate Chill from days long ago, and the Dairy Queen royal blizzards. Funny. I also linked to the chill in that one.

Here’s a closer look at the new Dream Donuts:
The Reese’s Peanut Butter Cheesecake Dream Donut features a yeast shell donut with a peanut butter-flavoured cheesecake filling, dipped in chocolate fondant and topped with colourful chocolate candy bites and a drizzle of Reese’s Peanut Butter sauce.
The Birthday Cake Confetti Dream Donut features a Birthday Cake ring donut that’s dipped in strawberry fondant, showered in confetti sprinkles and then finished off with a rosette of buttercream.
The S’mores Dream Donut consists of a ring donut packed with a rich chocolate filling, dipped in marshmallow-flavoured fondant and topped with graham cracker crumble and a drizzle of chocolate fondant.

Woosh! I think my pancreas is questioning how much I do love it, and thinks I need to sing that song again.

The birthday cake one might not be half bad…but that peanut butter one makes me dizzy just thinking about it, and so does the s’mores one. I’m getting older. I remember when my parents would say a dessert was very rich, too rich, and I would say “What’s wrong with you? What do you mean ‘too rich’?” Ok, I still like rich stuff, but I think I get it.

These donuts don’t make me say mmm, so much as hmmm. I probably still will try them though…like a fool.

Alright, Mr. Natural Immunity. How Sure Are You, Really?


If you’re so confident in your own immunity, would you have unprotected sex with someone who you know has an untreated STD?

I think I may use this argument the next time I’m stuck listening to some goober prattling on about his god given immune system being his vaccine. Heaven knows whether it’ll work given how so many of us tend to dig in on a position no matter how dumb or illogical it is, but it’s worth a shot.

I do know that variations on this is a stupid conversation and I’m not going to have it are very handy, though. Saved me a lot of mental anguish, they have.

My Passport Got Another Stamp!

Holy crap, I took a trip! I took the plunge and took a trip. I came back on Saturday, and so far I’m not dead, so I think it was a success. Through the pandemic, I would have nightmares that I’d forgotten how to travel and didn’t pack the right supplies and failed all over the place. Thankfully, that wasn’t what happened.

I admit I’m a bit of a chicken and the first trip I took was work-related. At least then I was travelling with coworkers, so if I screwed something up, someone might give me a hand. Plus, the first time I would be using ArriveCan for real, at least I could get help if needed.

My experience was mostly smooth. It was weird travelling without a dog because I could actually check in in advance, and when I got to the TSA, there was no dog drama. I went through and didn’t make a sound. Admittedly, I was with colleagues, so I didn’t have to do the assistance shuffle. Also, we went to Billy Bishop airport, the one on the island, so we didn’t deal with Pearson hell.

There were two small bumps on my trip. One was while flying to Boston. I folded my white cane and put it in the seat pocket in front of me, like I had often done. The flight attendant immediately told me I had to stow it in the overhead bin…and took it and put it up! This really bothered me because this is my cane. It’s my navigation aid. It won’t do everything in terms of getting around, but it would sure help if I needed to go somewhere. And in the event of an evacuation, you’re not supposed to open the overhead bins so I couldn’t get my cane back. Thankfully, on the way home, I just put my cane under the seat in front of me and nobody said anything, so I don’t think the canes getting taken is a Porter policy, but I’ve asked anyway.

The other one was at the hotel. We stayed at the Boston Marriott Copley Place. The staff supporting us were wonderful, and the hotel was nice, but the elevators were terrible!

Let me explain. So depending on what floor you’re on, there were two or three banks of elevators near each other, Each bank had 3 elevators in it. They were numbered a, b, c, etc. Each bank also had a panel where you told the elevators what floor you wanted. Inside the elevator car itself, there were no buttons except open, close, and maybe an alarm.

If you could see, on the panel where you requested an elevator, there was a touchscreen, you entered the number of the floor you wanted, and were informed what elevator was coming to get you. At this point you had to figure out where that was, and hustle over there before the elevator left without you.

But if you couldn’t see, you were subjected to a different experience. Below the touchscreen, there was a button with a wheelchair symbol, and three raised dots. If you pushed that button, a voice would come out of the panel saying something like “Press the button again when I reach the floor you want. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7.” and so on. There were at least 38 floors in this hotel. Then, when you pressed the button again asking for a floor, it would say “proceed to elevator f.” and then it would give directions like “behind you to your right.” Sometimes, those directions were accurate, sometimes not. Also, you didn’t get any extra time to find the elevator, and it didn’t always verify that it was the elevator taking you to your desired floor. Needless to say, I didn’t use those elevators alone much.

I have seen the buttonless elevators work better in a different Marriott. In the one in Anaheim, there was a physical keypad. You would hit a long button first which would make it realize you needed accessibility help. Then you would enter your floor on the keypad, at which point it would give you directions, and give you extra time. When the elevator arrived, it would confirm that it was in fact the one you were looking for. That is an accessible experience, even though it’s weird to have an elevator with no buttons.

Designers of this stuff need to realize that they are plunking this in a building where people don’t have a chance to get familiar with idiosyncracies, so they have to make it is simple as possible.

Hotel rooms are getting weirder and weirder. They have more and more elements of surprise. Fridges are stuck in closets. Who looks in a closet for a fridge? In some fridges, they load them with items, but put sensors in there that will charge you if you even so much as jostle the items. I always worry that the interface for heat and air conditioning will be a touchscreen, or worse, there will be touchscreens that will cause me to buy things I didn’t want. The lights turn on automatically when you enter the bathroom. While I guess that’s nice, it scared the hell out of me the first time it happened. The phone in your room isn’t normal at all. If you want to call the front desk, sometimes you have to locate the “guest services” button. For reasons I don’t understand, one day, somebody activated my alarm clock, a thing that just looked like a USB hub. Then, at 6 a.m., something started beeping. So now, I have more things to check before I settle down for the night: check that the curtains are closed and make sure someone didn’t turn on my alarm. Ack. It’s supposed to be fun staying in a hotel. Eventually, it gets better, but that first day is no fun at all.

The trip itself was pretty good. I fed off the energy of everybody else, got to see people I hadn’t seen in a while, and acted totally goofy, but we had fun. I noticed that when I get nervous, I get goofy. Then a little voice in my head would say “I think you should stop now. I don’t think you’re funny anymore.” Sometimes I would listen, sometimes I wouldn’t. Oops.

And I’m so happy, because I was able to do ArriveCan all by myself! I did it on the laptop because I wasn’t sure if I would run into trouble if I tried to do it on the phone. But it worked perfectly. So this is a message to past me. I held up my phone, my qr code went boop, and all went well.

So that was my first trip. Success!

Microbe Brew

I would ask what kind of person would try drinking hand sanitizer to beat a breath test, but I think most of us know the answer. And if a few of us don’t, the circumstances will explain everything.

Also, her last name seems appropriate.

Nutter, from Beverley, admitted drink-driving and using a vehicle likely to cause danger of injury on April 7.
The court heard a cop spotted her “swerving violently all over the road” in her white Suzuki Swift and ordered her to stop.

All the tyres on the car were flat and the windscreen was smashed and had two noticeable impact marks.
There was also dried blood on a rear door and a smear of blood on a front headlight.
Nutter’s eyes were glazed and she twice refused to provide a breath sample.
She eventually blew 52mcg of alcohol in 100ml of breath. The legal limit is 35mcg.
Recorder Alex Menary told the court that Nutter had put hand sanitiser in her mouth in an effort to reduce the alcohol reading but it did not work.

A good hand sanitizer, according to the article and some Googling I just did, contains anywhere from 60 to 90% alcohol.

It sounds like she may as well.

The story also notes that Nutter nearly went to jail a year earlier for possessing crack and heroin with intent to supply. I shudder to think what she ate to get out of that one.

Another Night In The Lab

So remember that post about going to the sleep lab? Well, I finally got some follow-up.

I don’t know what happened right after my sleep study…let’s just blame Omicron for screwing up scheduling, but I didn’t hear from them at all. Finally, in March, I reached out and asked if I had missed a memo and was supposed to do anything. Suddenly, I was sent some crazily inaccessible forms and was asked to fill them out. Once I did, I was told I would talk to the sleep physician in June in person. Because life’s mean, my COVID infection kind of incinerated those plans, but they got me in in Early July. Luckily, I could come to Waterloo and I didn’t have to go to Paris.

The sleep physician was very nice and told me a lot of enlightening things. He told me that I had mild sleep apnea, but it’s probably closer to moderate since the quality of my sleep in the lab was dirt poor. But all those James Bond movie wires really do their job because they got lots of info on me. I can’t remember all my stats, but during REM sleep, I stopped breathing way more, my oxygen levels dropped like crazy and my throat muscles collapsed several times. I got more restorative sleep than I thought, but I didn’t get a lot of REM sleep, which is why it probably felt like I didn’t sleep. He told me I need a CPAP machine, and I should come back in and get wired up again, only this time, I would put on a mask and they would figure out what pressure I needed.

So, I asked him if I could come to Waterloo instead of Paris, and he said “Yeah, why did you go to Paris in the first place?” I told him that’s where the doctor sent me. Then he said “Of course you would come to Waterloo…that’s where you live!” Ok, that was easy. And then I asked the hard questions. I asked him if I could come alone and wouldn’t be obligated to bring someone. He didn’t want to commit to that, because he’s not the clinic administrator, but he said he couldn’t see why I would need someone after talking to me, because I’m perfectly capable of answering questions and following instructions. I nearly jumped for joy, especially when he said he would write a note in my file to that effect.

So I scheduled my sleep study for a few days later, and asked to speak to the clinic administrator about this nanny requirement. They said the administrator was out, and they’d ask tomorrow. They would not let me talk to them directly, and they didn’t seem really clear on this supposed policy. I’m really starting to think this “company policy” didn’t exist, because it couldn’t be explained or shown to me, and when Steve’s mom had called the Paris place to do her COVID screening for our first round of this, they asked her if she wanted a separate room. Wait, what? If you put her in a separate room, I have no way of communicating with her, and she has no way of helping me in the night. Hmmm. In any case, I guess the note was convincing enough, because I got a call in a couple days saying I was good to go.

This experience was far and away better than my Paris experience. I think the tech must have thought I was nuts because I arrived super early since I had been told that to get in the lab, you had to be buzzed in at this strange back door and I wasn’t sure if I could find it. So I gave myself a ton of time. So she brought me in and I just sat and played with my phone until it was time.

Then, she filled out all the forms with me, got me on the scale, and then let me go pee before she wired me up. She also told me some things I might have done wrong at the Paris lab. For one, I shouldn’t have put the blankets over the hand that had the pulse oxygen monitor on it because it might have given false low readings. I also shouldn’t have been on my stomach because that might have screwed up the monitors on those bands around my chest and belly, and I might have broken them…I guess if I was especially obese. Oops.

And then I put the mask on. We first tried a half mask that just goes over my nose, but I know there are other models. I have some sad news for you guys. The sleep talkin’ me bit might be dead, because once I’m wearing this half mask thing, I’m really hard to understand, and as soon as I open my mouth, the air starts feeding back through my mouth. I kind of sound like this cat.

So the only way Steve is going to understand me is if I get good at taking my mask off in my sleep, or he gets really good at translating “Oh Long Johnson” to English.

So after the tech got me to blink my eyes, snore, yawn and do other stuff, it was time to attempt another trip to the land of nod. At first, I thought it would be just as rough, but I know I did sleep some before I had a break in the middle of my sleep. I woke up, and my mask was digging into my face! Stupid me, I know I was supposed to call out if I needed something, but I had heard some beeping and chaos at one point, so I didn’t want to disturb her for a bit of discomfort, and I wasn’t sure if it was kind of like breaking in a new pair of shoes and was totally to be expected. But I found out later, when she rubbed the giant mark on my face, that I should have called out. Oops.

But then! I went back to sleep and I had a wickedly vivid dream about a bunch of us blind folks all having a sleep lab at once and somehow we broke a bunch of stuff, stole other stuff, and would owe $4000. I woke up panicking…and then excited that I had had a dream in the sleep lab! An honest to god very vivid and detailed dream! My readings must have gone nuts or something because she said I was awake and would I like to stop the sleep study now because I only had 15 minutes left. I asked her if she had enough data, and she wouldn’t say, so I tried to sleep for the last 15 minutes, but I think I was so excited about dreaming while all wired up that I didn’t sleep.

She then helped me fill out the post-sleep study forms, and when we got to some questions about her, she asked me if I wanted to fill those ones out too. I did fill them out because I had nothing bad to say about her. But I thought it was nice that she asked.

And in even better news, when I came home, I had life in my bones. I only napped for about an hour, and that was at the end of the day after calling around to different providers of CPAP machines. I must have been more awake, because I was able to wash all the glop out of my hair in one go. Or maybe they use better glop. And somebody commented that my voice sounded different! So yeah, I think I need one of these suckers. Maybe we can tame my blood pressure after all.

So after calling around to a few places, I have chosen a machine provider. It’s so hard to know if you’re making the right decision, but the consultant I spoke to from this place seemed to know a lot more details about insurance requirements and other stuff. Let’s hope I’ve made a good choice.

Also, apparently there’s a CPAP machine shortage, just like everything else, and I’ll have to go on a waiting list. They’re not sure how long.

So here we go into the sleep apnea journey. Wish me luck.

Happy Retirement, Tansy!

I’ve wanted to write this post for a while, but I couldn’t find the words. Now that some time has passed, I figure I’d better find them, and fast!

I have been working on Tansy’s retirement process for a while now. It started at the beginning of the pandemic, so everything was frozen for a time. Then as things were kind of headed back to normal, I started to look seriously at where she was going to go. I would have given her to Brad, but Brad’s work hours had changed dramatically, and he was worried she wouldn’t be happy being alone so much. Her raisers couldn’t take her back because they’re getting older and already have 3 dogs. Several other options that I thought I had weren’t going to work out. I was starting to get a bit nervous. I knew that if I couldn’t find anything, the school would place her, and whatever home they chose would be a wonderful one. But if they placed her, I would probably never see her again, and I might never hear updates again either. Maybe I would, but of course the school couldn’t promise that I would. I already know how it feels to never hear about a dog again. That happened with Babs, and there was no way that that would happen with Tansy if I could help it.

Then, like magic, two really good options popped up. One was a family friend whose wife was a vet tech. But they lived far away, so there would be no chance to try and make sure it worked. The other was a local person, a friend of several friends, who specializes in taking in older dogs. I didn’t know her personally, but she came highly recommended from several people. Now, I went from having no options to having to choose, which was a good problem to have.

Eventually, I went with the local person. Tansy had a little sleepover at her place back in May, and we had met several times at a dog park with her older dog, and it just seemed like we had the same philosophy about a lot of things. A couple of weeks ago, I made the hand-over. Tansy was happy to go to her, but she kept looking at me like “Aren’t you coming too?” As I went to go inside, I got a nose to the leg trying to nudge me along in her direction.

I was a basket case that whole day. I was a basket case before she left, and I was a basket case after. It’s been two weeks, and even now, Steve and I will hear, or trip over, an imaginary dog. We’ll think of something that has to be done for the dog that isn’t here. We’ll just look at each other and say “Phantom dog!” Sometimes I think we’re improving…and then I’ll go on a trip, and I’ll come back and we’ll be worse than ever. She is entrenched in every little thing I do, and so it affects Steve too.

Thankfully I’ve already gotten some updates and Tansy is settling in beautifully. She and the other dog are figuring out how they like to play, and Tansy has started doing Labrador loops around her new home. Also, she has gotten up to mischief. The other dog was given some zucchini and didn’t finish it all, so Tansy just helped herself. What a nut! But all members of the pack seem happy with the arrangement, so I’m happy too.

I still don’t know when I’m getting a new dog. I thought it might happen quickly, which is why I hustled to get her settled in. But I’d rather have her nicely settled than wait too long and have to scramble.

Tansy giving Brad some snuggles in front of our apartment building while I stand nearby.
What a treat! I get Brad playtime!
Here’s a picture of Tansy on her last day of work. I took the harness off and let her snuggle with Brad for a bit. I still have a few more things I want to post and some more songs to mention that she likes…but her career has reached its end.

All Jacked Up And NO Place To Go

If you’re going to steal a set of new tires, you could do worse than targeting a car dealership. Those places are, after all, a rich source of new tires. But it’s worth remembering that they also tend to be a rich source of security systems, which means that should your acquisition mission be successful, you may want to get a good distance away before you set about replacing the old tires on your car with the new ones since it is very possible that the police will be on your trail in short order. You may want to travel further than, say, across the street before jacking up your car, is what I’m getting at here. For if they catch up with you too soon you may not have a chance to get it down, and cars on jacks are not exactly known for their getaway prowess, you see.

The man is accused of stealing tires off a black Dodge Challenger, then driving across the street and attempting to put the tires on his own red Dodge Challenger.

When police arrived, the man dove into his car to flee, but since his car was up on jacks to swap out the tires, the car didn’t go anywhere.

He was quickly arrested for the theft, but also for a stolen gun they found, seven felony warrants, and possibly a partridge in a pear tree.

I’ll Be Right There, Officer. Just Dropping Off The Bail Money


Good idea: Ditching the money as quickly as possible after robbing a bank.
Not so hot: Ditching the money by running outside and depositing it into your own account via the ATM attached to the building.

State police arrested McRoberts Williams Saturday after they say he robbed the Wells Fargo on Old Capitol Trail at the Prices Corner Shopping Center in Wilmington.
The 44-year-old California man handed a teller a note saying he was robbing the bank around 11:20 a.m., police said. The 25-year-old woman then handed over an undisclosed amount of cash and Williams left the bank.
“The suspect fled the bank on foot, and once outside he made a deposit in the atm on the exterior of the building,” state police said.
The man then ran behind the shopping center on foot where state troopers caught up to him and arrested him, police said.

Good Luck In Life, Kid. I’d Say Break A Leg, But…

Reading this, my mind goes back and forth between two thoughts.

  1. As someone who grew up around my share of irresponsible drunks, I kind of hope this motherfucker never drives or sees his kid again. But the way that Canada and the U.S. treat these things, I imagine he’s already doing both regularly.
  2. As someone who broke an arm once and remembers how much it hurt, I can only imagine how painful being carried with a broken leg by a tipsy arsehole in a panic must have been. I bet it’s the kind of pain that makes murdering someone in their sleep when you get better seem like a viable option.

Drunk Joliet motorist Christopher Hernandez crashed into three cars Saturday evening near the Louis Joliet Mall, and then left his seriously injured 10-year-old son at a nearby store, so he could flee the scene of the crash he caused, according to Joliet police.

Hernandez was driving westbound on Plainfield Road at Hennepin Drive when he struck the rear of the vehicle ahead of him, police said.
“This collision caused both vehicles to lose control and skid into two additional vehicles that were waiting in the left turn lane of eastbound Plainfield Road,” police spokesman Dwayne English announced. “Immediately following the collision, Hernandez fled the scene carrying his 10-year-old son, who was seriously injured in the crash.”

The child suffered a broken leg during the crash, and he was taken to St. Joe’s hospital, police said.