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Hello, Sugar High

Well slap me silly. Yesterday the doctor dished out some unexpected good news: Tam passed her glucose tolerance test, after all. That means no gestational diabetes.

You could have knocked me over wth a wet noodle - or, rather, a limp hunk of celery. Turns out, while I'm not diabetic, I am "carb intolerant." Which means I'm a fence-sitter. A line straddler. A wishy-washy undecided when it comes to processing sugars. So, long story short? I have to manage my diet a little more closely, get a little Atkins-y, cut most of the carby white stuff (rice, bread, pasta) from my diet.

No big deal, with the exception of the potato issue: An Irish girl with no taters? Are you kiddin' me?! I have to visit the dietician for the exact rules, but from everything I've read, every blue moon, I can pork down a forbidden carb if my greedy little heart desires it.

Ah, sweet sweet reinstatement to potatoes - or even the Land of Pastry! Well, okay. Maybe "reinstatement" is the wrong word... let's just say I've been granted a visitor's visa, not a passport.

But just knowing I can go there if I really really want to makes it so much easier not to, know what I mean? Hmmm. Does that make me lame? Human? Or, even more likely, both?

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I am a writer and lazy artist who loves travel, architecture and design. Right now, I'm into photography. My fabulous husband (a.k.a. The Varmint) and I are also the principals of a San Diego-based creative agency - and new parents to the divine Baby Mak. Read More >