My sugar was normal, at least by the current needed standards.  I sighed and put away the diabetic exam kit.  More shopping to do in this endless emporium of groceries.  Start over in produce.  Vegetables.  Carrots, celery, tomatoes, lots of those.  Maybe some asparagus, Brett’s going to want some chicken Oscar Saturday night for his three poker buddies.  Now, on to the fruits.  Lettuce and corn, we’ve already got plenty of those.  Oranges, pears, grapes.  Animal crackers for Stephanie and Kimberly?  Yeah.  Why not.  They like those sugar cookies, too.  Oh, I guess they’re out of those for the time being.  Okay.  Onward!  How about a mountain of toilet paper and paper towels.  Beer?  Brett’ll take care of that at the White Hen.  He always figures out just how much beer those son-of-a-guns are going to need every other week.  A couple of cartons of orange juice, and oh yes—three breakfast cereals, one for Brett, one for Steph, one for Kim.  Avoid getting Cocoa Krispies or Count Chocula, it’s bad enough they munch on pretzels, cookies and candy all through their perfectly innocent day.  Stick with the Wheaties or the Corn Flakes.  On the way over to the baked goods and the butcher shop, someone called out my name.  “Mrs. Beissler!  Mrs. Beissler!  I’m so glad I ran into you…”  It was Gary from the pharmacy.  He wanted me to know, before I left the store, that they now had a free glucose meter in every store, right near the checkout.