After 62 years of food abuse I’m trapped in a diabetes-centered world for the rest of my life.

In this post: Food groups, Sam, lobster deprivation.

For as long as I can remember, food has always been in charge of my life. Cravings. Losing. Gaining. Gaining more. And now that I have diabetes, it’s even WORSE because entire food groups have disappeared from the realm of possibility, such as pasta, rice, French fries, bread, bagels, chips, Cheetos, Mike & Ikes and doughnuts. (I really miss Mike & Ikes.)

Am I sad? Not really. Depressed? Once in a while. Frustrated? Constantly. After 62 years of food abuse I’m trapped in a diabetes-centered world for the rest of my life … counting carbs, measuring insulin, injecting insulin, timing my next meal, testing my blood glucose and keeping charts. Four times a day. Every single day. The only plus? At least they’re making syringes with really teeny needles now. But the rest of this totally SUCKS.

And now for a quick review of a strange and crappy movie that Sam and I watched a couple of days ago. It’s The Valley of Gwangi (1969) starring James Franciscus and Richard Carlson, a science fiction thing set in turn-of-the-century Mexico with purple man-eating dinosaurs designed by Ray Harryhausen. The plot? A few cowboys who hate each other’s miserable guts are working in a Mexican circus when they discover a hidden valley with dinosaurs in it. They’re especially attracted to the purple beast pictured below — sort of a gay Godzilla knockoff — so they lasso his neck with teeny little ropes, knock him unconscious with rocks, tie him up in a wagon (nobody ever explains where the wagon came from; they didn’t have one when they discovered the valley) and shlep him back into town as a circus attraction so they can make a ton of money. If you’re wondering what could go wrong with such a terrific plan, the answer is BASICALLY EVERYTHING.

The dinosaur snaps the ropes, terrorizes the circus, chases a bunch of screaming Mexican peasants into an old church and then kicks the doors down to fight James Franciscus, who tries to hit him with a flag and half a pew. Eventually Godzillacita knocks over a row of candles, sets the church on fire and has a barbecue.

Pictured below are James Franciscus, Richard Carlson (in one of his last film roles) and Gila Golan, who played James Franciscus’s sexpot girlfriend. She runs around in a lot of tight jeans and ripped shirts. In case you care, Golan was Miss Israel of 1960.

I don’t expect Sam to be home from work tonight until sometime after 1 a.m., and he has to work 12 hours tomorrow and probably 12 hours on Sunday, too. This totally murders the chance for dinner at Lefty’s Lobster and Chowder House on Saturday. We had our fingers crossed.

If you care, we always order 18-oz. broiled lobster tails with big house salads and Sam eats key lime pie for dessert while I watch. Holy crap, right?