I’ll never have a big ego. All my life the Universe has had a funny way of putting me back in my place before I can get too high on myself.

Last week I was so hyped up about being nominated for an award and being singled out at tennis for doing something right. I wouldn’t say I was getting a big ego from it, but there was a little extra strut and swagger in my walk.

And there was that little voice in my head thinking, ” ‘Bought time I get some recognition around here!”

Uh huh. Riiiiight.

That’s always about the time Life slaps me upside the head and reminds me to simmer down now. That’s what happened last Friday when I lost control on a patch of ice and slammed into a rocky bluff.

Poor Nissy bore the brunt of my vanity

As I sat waiting for another officer (there was one on the scene, but he had to wait for another unit) to come do the accident report and give me an incident report number for my insurance, all I could think was how silly I’d been earlier in the week.

Even that very day. My feathers were pretty perked up at being noticed.

But the accident was a humbling reminder that that sort of stuff just doesn’t really matter in the scheme of things. It’s nice, sure, and it’s appreciated, but I can’t get caught up in it.

Also, a reader’s comment on one of my Haunt Jaunts posts reminded me if I ever feel in need of validation, I need look no further than my family. No one is ever going to be more impressed by me or love me more or think me a big winner than Wayne, Murphy, Mr. Meow and Tabby.

Nominations, awards, or any other kind of recognition? Extra icing. Tastes nice and looks pretty but in the end its unnecessary superficial finery. It doesn’t define me or keep me warm at night.

But my family? Their love is award enough. As long as I have that, I have everything.

Related Items:

Hands-On General Science Activities With Real-Life Applications: Ready-to-Use Labs, Projects, and Activities for Grades 5-12

General, Organic, and Biological Chemistry: Structures of Life Plus MasteringChemistry with eText -- Access Card Package (4th Edition)

Stalin's General: The Life of Georgy Zhukov

Life Code: The New Rules for Winning in the Real World

General, Organic, and Biological Chemistry: Structures of Life (3rd Edition)

I won’t go into all of the gory details of how it came to be Wayne and I found ourselves in the family planning aisle at Target tonight. Suffice it to say we did, and suffice it to say I saw some things that made me go “Hmmm….”

DETERMINE THE GENDER 

Since I have never been pregnant, I have never had to wonder what sex my baby will be. I knew there were tests that would tell you aside from sonograms. I didn’t know you could buy them in Target now, though.

You can. It’s called the IntelliGender Gender Prediction Kit. Interesting.

PERSONAL MASSAGERS

Small and discreet

Now you can even get personal massagers at Target! Just the fingertip versions. Very small. Very discreet. I’m surprised there hasn’t been an uproar about this.

I mean, I can’t help but wonder if Target sold male masturbation aids some group somewhere would be up in arms and calling for a removal of the product from shelves or a boycott of the store. But it’s okay for women.

Or is it?

Maybe someone somewhere will throw a stink about it once they figure it out. I can think of a whole lot of uptight women who would be shocked at the prospect of what amounts to a type of dildo for sale in a store where their kids might see it. They’d want the sale of such things to be confined to adult stores. (As long as those adult stores were nowhere near their side of town.)

I think it’s freaking hilarious. I was half-tempted to buy one myself just to say I did.

PORTABLE CONDOM CARDS

Portable Condom Card?

I had to snap a pic of this next box so I’d remember it right. (Plus, I’m lazy. It was easier to take a picture than break out a pen and scrap of paper.)

What the hell is a portable condom card?

I had to look it up when we got home. “Discreetly carry condoms wherever you go, so you’ll always have one when you need it.”

Huh. So it’s the same thing as a business card holder, just for your condoms. (Which, for some, and depending on their line of work, might be like a calling card.)

The name makes sense now, but really? Did they have to go there and come up with such a thing? Whatever happened to just keeping condoms in your wallet?

At any rate, I certainly got a lot of food for thought at Target tonight!

Related Items:

Change Your Life, Not Your Wife: Marriage-Saving Advice for Success-Driven People

The Secret Lives of Wives: Women Share What It Really Takes to Stay Married

The Paris Wife: A Novel

Good Wives: Image and Reality in the Lives of Women in Northern New England, 1650-1750

Life After Wife (Three Magic Words #3)

Mr. Meow is now the tubeless wonder! Yesterday at his checkup he had continued to maintain his weight by eating on his own with no goo tube feedings from me. Dr. Stumb felt it was time to remove his feeding tube.

Hallelujah!

They were able to remove it right then and there. Later today I can take his bandage off. (He pretty much was ready to have it come off last night. He shredded it pretty good. I think only the tape part is left. I believe he managed to unravel all of the gauze and pull it out on his own.)

I’m a little hesitant to see the hole in the side of his neck for the first time. I’m just SOOOOO immensely thankful we had an option like the feeding tube to try and that Dr. Stumb didn’t automatically write him off as having cancer and being a goner. She at least tried to treat his for the Tri-itisis, and it seems that was a good gamble as it must’ve been what he had. If he had cancer he should’ve kept on deteriorating.

I can’t thank her or the staff at Southside Animal Hospital enough. All the vets are great there. Dr. Singleton saved Tabby’s life back when she got an infection after her spay surgery. She became our go to vet after that. Both Murph and Tab love her, but not Mr. Meow. (Except that’s not unusual. He really doesn’t like anyone.)

But when Dr. Singleton was out over Thanksgiving and Dr. Stumb was on duty, that’s who we rushed Mr. Meow in to see. He didn’t fuss as much with her. I wrote it off that it was just how sick he was.

But during this feeding tube trial (which has called for multiple vet trips), it’s become apparent of all the vets he’s ever seen, he fusses least with Dr. Stumb.

So…since she can manage him she’ll be his vet. Murph and Tab will still see Dr. Singleton.

But I have to wonder…is it a Courtney thing? Dr. Stumb’s first name is also Courtney. Sort of funny.

I’m just glad he’s still allive and kicking. The feeding tube was sure an adventure, but…it worked! I’m very thankful we had both the time and money to pursue that route. Even if Mr. Meow lives to be 25 (WOW! That’d be some kind of miracle wouldn’t it?), it’s going to be way too soon to say goodbye to him.

Others only get to see his cranky, ornery side. But he’s my little kitty soul mate. He’s definitely left his paw prints all over my heart. So glad he’s still around!

Related Items:

Adopting a Pet For Dummies (For Dummies (Pets))

Guinea Dog

Come Back: A Mother and Daughter's Journey Through Hell and Back (P.S.)

How to Steal a Dog

A Dog Named Boo: How One Dog and One Woman Rescued Each Other--and the Lives They Transformed Along the Way

Some weeks nothing seems to go right. Others are just sort of blah. Then there are those weeks that just amaze you. This was one of those. Amazing!

#s 1 and 2: HAUNT JAUNTS RANKS AS AN EXPERT AND GETS AN AWARD

Rather than rewrite it all, I’ll just link to the post I wrote about this on Haunt Jaunts.

But in case you don’t want to click over, here’s the short version: HJ ranks #50 out of 118 experts on Sulia’s paranormal channel and one of HJ’s Twitter friends nominated the blog for a Shorty Award in Travel.

I’m not gonna lie. The recognition feels great!

#3: MASTER OF THE COURT

Then at Thursday’s tennis clinic the most amazing thing happened. We had just started doing a drill when Coach Beth stopped us and pulled us in.

My heart sunk because I was one of the ones in the middle of the drill. Worse, I had last touched the ball. My first thought was, “Aw man! What did I do wrong this time?” Because I’m always sure I’ve made a good example of something not to do. That’s happened more than I care to admit.

Not this time! I about fell over when Beth said, “Whoopsie (that’s my tennis nickname) is the only who’s mastered something. Can anyone tell me what?”

I sort of phased out for a moment as I did a mental rewind. Had she just said “mastered” and “Whoospie” in the same sentence?

Apparently she had. I then listened with keen interest as people started naming things I might’ve mastered. I had no clue. I had just done another of my trademark lobs before she stopped us and called us all in. I figured it had to do with that.

In part it did, but the point she was trying to drive home was I had mastered reading the court and knowing when to pull out certain shots, like lobs.

Huh? I was waiting for the punchline or the hidden camera reveal. I have never been singled out for doing something good before. Again, the recognition felt awesome!

Until I started thinking about the target on my back. The girls will be gunning for me now, itching to take me down and figure out how to take my lob opportunities away from me. I’ll have to come up with some new tricks and quick!

But it made for an exciting week. I’ll let myself bask in the glory for a moment before I buckle down and get back to just being me –a big ol’ Whoopsie at heart!

Related Items:

Ensouling Language: On the Art of Nonfiction and the Writer's Life

Life Is How You Look at It . . .

Tuesdays with Morrie: An Old Man, a Young Man, and Life's Greatest Lesson

Swing Era, 1942-1944: When Sport Was Mighty Sporty;

Creative Nonfiction: Researching and Crafting Stories of Real Life

From first grade to sixth grade I went to a magnificent elementary school. It was a small private school called Cheeseman Academy and it was on the outskirts of Cheeseman Park in Denver, Colorado. In fact, weather permitting, we had recess in the park most days.

Paranormal enthusiasts know Cheeseman Park as a haunted park that was in part Steven Spielberg’s inspiration for Poltergeist.  I think that’s in part where my interest in ghosts and the macabre stemmed from. There was something there. An energy I didn’t understand but always felt. In fact, I used to have wicked crazy dreams about a ghost on Cheeseman’s third floor. Not only while I went to school there, but long after I graduated.

However, sometime in my 20s the dreams stopped. I figured I had outgrown them. Now I think they died when Cheeseman was torn down.

Ah, what a beautiful old brownstone it was. A man named Neil who went there when it was called The Peter Pan School left a comment on one of HJ’s posts about the school and brought back so many wonderful memories.

If there had been witches and wizards it sort of would’ve been like a Hogwarts. Smaller, but with as much character and personality.

When I talk to people who went there (because a couple of people have found my Haunt Jaunts post I guess from Googling Cheeseman), they remember it fondly too. It had a power. It was a remarkable place to go to school. (Have I said that already?)

I’d really love to capture other students memories of Cheeseman. And to collect any remaining photos that may exist of it. It’s such a shame it’s gone now. That is one place I would’ve loved to return to and get lost in the nostalgia.

But maybe I could do that if I made a documentary of it?

The thought keeps nagging me. We’ll see if it persists. If it does, maybe I just might give it a go!

Related Items:

Newborn Photography Made Easy

8 Types Of Natural Light That Will Add Drama To Your Photographs

Tuesdays with Morrie: An Old Man, a Young Man, and Life's Greatest Lesson

Teaching Real-Life Nonfiction Reading Skills in the K-1 Classroom: High-Interest Lessons and Activities That Teach Essential Nonfiction Reading Strategies and Meet the Common Core State Standards

Low Cost High Impact Photography

Today I went for my three month check and to get the results of my yearly CT scan. I am overjoyed to announce I am now officially a two-year cancer survivor!

I don’t know why they count it from when you’re diganosed instead of when you’re told you’re in remission, but that’s how they do it. I was officially diagnosed December 31, 2008, so really I’m a two years and change cancer survivor. Hoo Hoo!

Such a relief to get that news. I’ve been feeling strong and back to normal so I didn’t think anything was wrong, but…I’m leery now. Ever since all I went through with my mom and then myself, I don’t just think doctor visits will go routinely anymore. I’m always braced for the alternative.

But luckily today I got great news.

And even though my weight has now set a new all-time record high, my blood pressure was back down to where I like it: 98/68! (As I was getting sicker and sicker before I was officially diagnosed my BP kept climbing higher and higher, which really freaked me out. Now I know it was because I was sick, but back then I didn’t understand what was going on. Now I watch it like a hawk for any signs of it going higher again. I was so excited today to see it back to around the 100/70 mark. It’s a sign I’m in great shape!)

Oh, and I also graduated to checks every four months now instead of every three. And if I make it to three years all clear, I’ll graduate to checks every six months. I’m shooting for that!

Related Items:

The Cancer-Fighting Kitchen: Nourishing, Big-Flavor Recipes for Cancer Treatment and Recovery

The Whole-Food Guide for Breast Cancer Survivors: A Nutritional Approach to Preventing Recurrence (The New Harbinger Whole-Body Healing Series)

The Breast Cancer Survivor's Fitness Plan: A Doctor-Approved Workout Plan For a Strong Body and Lifesaving Results (Harvard Medical School Guides)

100 Questions & Answers About Life After Cancer: A Survivor's Guide

Facing Forward: Life After Cancer Treatment