My Archnemesis: Granny’s Cooking

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It’s been a pretty busy week with work, and a pretty normal week with diabetes. This just in: My 14-day blood glucose average is a stellar 110, and I just got some new insulin syringes that have the easy, snap-off needles. My little brother Reeves, who also has diabetes, gave me a box of his when I was at home last week. It is pretty crazy how many diabetes supplies two people with diabetes can go through in a week. I imagine that, this Christmas at the Stuckey house, the stocking stuffers will be test strips, FlexPens, and maybe a few bottles of Lantus (insulin glargine) in a cooler under the tree.

Speaking of the holidays, Thanksgiving is right around the corner, and there’s no better time to have diabetes than at the Stuckeys’ Thanksgiving in south Alabama. Complete with fresh ham, turnips, squash, and many other vegetables, it’s easy for me to surf my way through the buffet line and get a healthy lunch. The problem lies in Granny’s fried cornbread.

This has long been a staple in my family, and to sink your teeth into a fresh, warm slice of Granny’s cornbread, with a lightly salted and peppered, chilled, Slocomb Alabama tomato and a sweet Vidalia circle perched on top like an onion halo, is to know that there is a God and he loves good food.

Sorry, I get a little sidetracked when I talk about Granny’s cooking.

Before being diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes at age 28, I can remember popping pieces of cornbread like they were grapes. Nowadays, I’ve learned that the advice my dad gave me before going off to college is true in all phases of life. I think that, when he said this to me, he was referring to the typical college risks of drinking, drugs, skipping class, etc., but it certainly applies to diabetes, too. So now I pass this advice on to you, and you’re welcome….and I quote: “Moderation is the key.” Read it and believe it.

I certainly use moderation every Thanksgiving—and at pretty much every meal I sit down to eat. If you find yourself in a head-to-head battle with moderation, the least you can do is go for a walk after lunch. I find that if I do splurge, the walk gives me time to rehash my performance. (“I should never have stood and watched Granny fry the cornbread.”) Experience is the name we give our mistakes, and a 40-minute stroll to savor the ridiculous amount of food you’ve consumed always helps justify things.

In other news, our first video is up on, so if you haven’t seen it, please go check it out. Especially if you’re a fan of Mark Foley jokes and want to see a diabetic almost eat a cannoli. Jon Murray and I are in the process of writing and recording two more songs, and then we are going to shoot videos for them. It looks like we’ll be covering the topics of immigration and adopting a foreign baby—two things I’ve always wanted to do.

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