I laughed and cheered Dina from the Real Housewives of New Jersey on a few weeks back when she made a comment about how her nemesis, crazy Danielle, should not mistake nice for weak. (Trouble is, Danielle’s so freaking batty that it doesn’t matter how nice Dina is, or how mean. Danielle’s going to look for a way to either take advantage or be offended by whatever Dina does.)

Dina’s comment really resonated with me because anyone who has ever met me always has the same comment eventually, “Are you always so happy?”

No. But I don’t let my sad or mad show very often. Not in public. Not if I can help it. I keep that behind closed doors if at all possible.

People often tell me I should let it out more. Time and time again I’ve heard, “You know, it’s because you smile so much and are always giggling and bubbling that people don’t take you seriously. You’re too nice.”

Too nice…

Yes, sometimes I am. I’m also too respectful and too compassionate most times. Here’s why: I know what it’s like to have my feelings hurt. If I can at all avoid doing that to someone else, I will.

However, sometimes I get extremely miffed at not being taken seriously. Most times I figure it’s their problem if they can’t take me seriously, but on some occasions it gets the best of me.

In the past few months, I’ve had several repeated run ins with people at volleyball because they mistake my nice for weak. This time, because it kept happening and I couldn’t avoid it, it got the best of me.

But now that I’m getting away from all that (YAY! What a relief!) and I’ve had a chance to have some distance, I’ve realized something else: I happen to view bitchy, grouchy, and sullen people as weak.

Or maybe lazy is a better word. After all, waking up every morning and putting on a happy face and trying to maintain it throughout the day is a hell of a lot harder than giving in to the dark side and just being grumpy. That’s a cop out. And no one can ever accuse me of that!

(At least not when it comes to my attitude. Now about housework? Um, I’m not the best about keeping up on that…)

Is it just me or are people letting their crazy hang out more these days without any attempt to mask, hide, or deny it than ever before? In fact, I’d venture to say they’re prouder now of their crazy than in the past too.

Don’t get me wrong. Being crazy’s not all bad. But it depends which kind you are:

1. Institutional
2. Everyday
3. Extraordinary

There’s meds and facilities to control the first kind.

The everyday we all have and is relatively harmless. Usually when this shows (and we all have it and have shown this kind before), it’s like farting in public. We get red in the face, laugh it off, and apologize. Sometimes our friends might even tease us about it. (i.e. “Girl, you so crazy!”)

Then there’s number three. Again, we all have this. That dark part of us bred mostly by our insecurities and hurts from past injustices. This is the kind of crazy we used to not want people to know about.

I’m talking vanity, jealousy, narcissism, overly judgmental and opinionated, or chronic bitchy (some bitchy is okay, but chronic bitchy is a nasty case).

Maybe it’s just because I’m getting older and so are those around me. We’re of that certain age where we don’t worry about the crazy coming out more.

For example, I’m noticing those who were once beautiful (still are, but they are starting to show their years or have gained weight, etc.) are realizing “beauty doesn’t last forever.” People (mainly men) don’t treat or notice them like they used to. Good God the crazy that breeds! Interesting wardrobe choices, affairs, divorces, and other midlife crisis mayhem.

Then there are those who have to have their every flipping opinion validated and approved, which they then want to stuff down the throats of anyone with a different opinion. Why isn’t it enough to agree to disagree? No one cares to see anyone’s else point these days. And that doesn’t mean agreeing with it. It just means saying, “I hear what you’re saying, but I believe X.” They’re not asking anyone to accept their differing opinion as gospel. They’re just asking them to respect that’s how they think or feel.

And don’t even get me started on what the “keeping up with the Jones’” has warped into. There’s no more keeping up. It’s all about out doing. I’m astonished at how many people want to be “better” than someone else. The looking down the noses and passing judgment on what others don’t have…wtf?

I blame all the reality TV shows. People see regular Joes and Janes having hit TV shows about their lives and think “They’re no more unique than me. They should make a TV show of my life. Now that’s entertainment!”

Not likely. I vote less reality TV. (And this coming from someone who’s a reality TV junkie!)

I can try and break my addiction to reality TV, but I can’t change my age. Does that mean I’m doomed to let my crazy show more too? Am I already doing it without even knowing? And do all these other people even realize they’re letting their crazy out?

They can say they don’t care, but they should. Crazy’s not always something to be proud of.

I know it’s a common reaction for nipples to get hard when they’re aroused or cold (which I guess is a form of arousal), but is it possible to suffer from a disease where they’re perpetually hard? If so, I have it.

I don’t know what to call it. How about headlightitis? My husband’s always turning his head as one hand  flies up to shield his eyes as he says, “Whoa! Can’t you turn those suckers down some?”

Would if I could, honey, but they haven’t invented the woman’s version of anti-Viagra for my sista girls.

However, bra manufacturers have come up with something: petals.

Some are peel-off stick-ons you can place right on your Ta Tas and wear under your bra. Some are built into bras.

I’m too cheap to buy the disposable stick-on kind. Made more sense to have them built-in. So I found some bras with the technology. Finally, something where my lady lumps would be nice and uniformly round underneath my shirts.

WRONG!

No sooner did I put on my new bra and cover it up with one of my tighter fitting Tee’s than I trotted down the stairs to show off to Wayne.

To my horror, there went the hand, the head turning sideways, the “Whoa!”

It can’t be. The petals were supposed to turn them off. Or at least dim them some.

I looked down. Nope. There were my two little familiar pointy Twin Peaks.

Impossible! I must have done something wrong. I checked to make sure the petals were positioned properly over my nipples. Check.

I threw up my white flag. Or, rather, my petals did. They knew when they were licked. They were no match for my nipples!

One of my old college roommates left a comment on my Facebook page the other day using his nickname for me: Boom Boom Morrocco. Oh my gosh how that name used to make me laugh! And OH! the memories it brought back.

James, Wayne, me and first Eileen, then a girl named Julie, all shared a house in Tucson. No, calling it a house is being too generous. It was a shack.

But rent was cheap (especially when we split it four ways) and it was near enough to campus to be convenient but far enough away to not feel confined.

Ah, those were the days….Back when Boom Boom Morrocco was a force to be reckoned with. She knew what she wanted and she went after it with single-minded determination. And if you got in her way? She’d figure out a way to move you.

What ever happened to her?

People who know me now would not understand how selfish, self-serving, and ruthless I could be back then. It just wouldn’t jive with the girl they’ve come to know.

Sometimes I’m embarrassed of some of the things ol’ Boom Boom did back then. Then other times I giggle with delight and my inner Courtie pumps her fists in glee that she was ever that daring and sassy.

But then I sober up remembering how many people I hurt and how many friendships I ruined. All because  I was determined to have whatever I wanted at whatever cost.

And if I really think about, part of Boom Boom’s still with me. The fun, wild, non-hurtful part. She doesn’t come out of hibernation very much, but when she does…Boom Boom brings the party with her!

I also had some other nicknames back then, including Courts (which still carries through today and which I even sometimes use as a pen name now) and Plunky (a variation of Punky from Punky Brewster, and is the name most people knew me by freshmen year of college, especially in the dorm.)

Nowadays Wayne calls me Ed or Eddie. If I’m wearing something weird he calls it an Ernie outfit (as in Ernie from Sesame Street). I think of myself as Ernie most times because that fits who I am now.

A few months back when we were on vacation I also picked up Fun Size, not so much as a nickname but as a way to think of myself. (As in, “I’m not short, I’m Fun Size!” One of the photographers on our boat told me that one.)

But Boom Boom Morrocco…that’s a classic. And almost too perfect. I can incorporate it into a tagline with another nickname I’ve acquired at volleyball:

Killer Court Boom Boom Morrocco takes care of business with Fun Size flair!

Oh yeah, that works!

Or maybe it’s a bra, a chemise, or a pair of stockings. For me, when I need a boost of confidence on a special day, I have a pair of Power Panties.

They’re not fancy. They’re just a regular old pair of Hanes cotton bikini panties.

But they’re black. And when I wear them I strut with a certain extra swagger.

No one but me knows I’m wearing them. I think that’s part of the power. Not that anyone much gives any thought to my underwear, but I’m pretty sure most would peg me for a plain white panties kind of girl. If they only knew about my black racers…

Well, I guess if they ever read this post they will.

This week the Power Panties will be called into action. I have my first doubles tennis match ever. I need a little extra confidence and sass. My black Power Panties can deliver!

But I’m also going to pair them with my black sport’s bra. I rarely wear the two together because, while my Power Bra is powerful, it doesn’t give me as much vim as the Power Panties do.

However, when they’re combined….watch out! Talk about a power boost!

Now if we end up not playing a bunch of crafty old “Blue Hairs,” as the part of my team that played last week dubbed the old ladies they played against and got absolutely schooled (and smoked) by, I’ll be in good shape.

(That was a really funny story last week. My team is all 30 and 40 something women. The team last week was all retirees of 60 and 70 somethings. No one on my team even won a set. Didn’t even come close.)

This week we play Hillwood. (Each week we play different teams representing different parts of the city.) From what I’ve heard Hillwood represents the upper crust of Nashville’s society. I should expect full makeup and 10-carat diamond ring bling because that’s how those Hillwood ladies customarily roll. Oh, and I should expect a whoppin’. Like the Blue Hairs, they were also the clear winners of all their matches last week.

All I can say is, my Power Panties are clean and ready to be called into action. Win, lose or draw, my Power Panties will have me up for the challenge!

People don’t always take me serious. In fact, usually they underestimate me. This used to make me absolutely fume! But now?

Bring it!

I love when people underestimate me. They don’t realize they’ve just given me a HUGE advantage and weakened themselves.

Why would I say that?

Because they’ve let their guard down. They’re not expecting anything from me. Big mistake. (a) Because I’m one of those who almost always does the opposite of what you’ll expect me to do, and (b) Hello? Are you that confident really? You probably shouldn’t be.You just gave me incentive to prove you wrong.

Anyway…it only took me almost 40 years to see how beneficial being underestimated is. But now that I know the secret? I actually am kind of disappointed when I’m taken seriously!

NEW MANTRA?

I saw this Tweet and loved it. In 20 words or less pretty much sums up what I said above.

RT @writomaniac: The one who underestimates me, will be underestimated one day, not by my words but by my deeds. #quotes #quoteswritomaniac

Lately my cat Tabby has been acting nuts. She’s always been a bit more energetic than her brother Mr. Meow, but only because she was basically a kitten when I found her. Mr. Meow’s up there in age. (Going on 12 or 14, depending on how old he was when we took him in. We’ve had him over 10 years now. Tab just turned three.)

However, Tab’s really had no desire to escape outside whenever the door’s opened. That’s usually Mr. Meow’s trick. Lately, though, she’s all about getting out of the house.

I’ve learned over the years to pay attention when my pets act weird. It’s taken me years to do it, but since they’re behavior has indicated all sorts of things from snakes in the house to my mom’s impending stroke to detecting my cancer, yeah, I’m more inclined to try and figure out why they’re acting a certain way.

As I swept the floor this morning listening to the Today show and heard about yet another big earthquake, this time in Turkey, the light dawned over my head: maybe Tab’s behavior is an indicator of something much bigger than I realize.

Because she’s fine otherwise. She’s eating, playing, still loving on us. But she talks a lot more than ever, and her cries are almost desperate. And when we open the door, she just wants OUT! She only heads to the bushes and seems content to hang there.

Now I’m thinking it might not be physical or behavioral why she’s acting like she is. She’s got me thinking about how there’s a fault over near Memphis that runs up to St. Louis. It rocked the land a couple of hundred years back. Trouble was, things weren’t as populated back then. According to the show “It Could Happen Tomorrow” it would cause tremendous damage nowadays if it hit with the same force. We’re talking buildings as far as Chicago and Atlanta being affected.

I’m wondering if she’s sensing that? And that maybe she understands instinctively that being inside could be deadly.

Man, I sure hope I’m wrong and it’s just a matter of she’s got Spring Fever like never before!

I had a hard time coming up with a title for this one. The one I picked had me thinking, “Are friends who sometimes put me down even really friends?”

Because sometimes they’re not even technically friends so much so as they are close acquaintances. Also, they don’t always do it. (Then they really wouldn’t be friends.) Sometimes they do it in very subtle, sneaky ways. And sometimes I wonder if they’re even aware they’re doing it at all. (Usually it’s pretty obvious they are.)

And what is it they’re doing exactly? Being judgmental mostly. Jealous sometimes. Copping a superiority complex others. Mostly they’re letting their insecurities show, though.

Not all my friends do it. Actually, the majority don’t. For the most part I’m surrounded by many warm, supportive and encouraging friends. Yet, for all of their positivity, I of course have to dwell on the offenses of a couple bad apples. (Which makes me mad at myself. I shouldn’t do that!)

The thing is, I don’t know how much it happens to other people. It doesn’t seem like it happens to Wayne all that much. But for some reason it feels like I inspire it in people.

Like at volleyball. I’m not that good of a player. But I’m not that bad either. I’m decent. I know what to do. The trouble is I don’t always move my body to get it done.

But some people feel the need to point out how they’re better. (When in fact they’re either only a smidge higher than my skill level or about that same.) If they can get on another team, they’ll do it. Especially if they perceive that team to have better players. Man, if I’m on an opposing team and something like that has happened? Funny how much better I play all of a sudden. (And oh what a feeling if my team pulls out the win!)

Anyway, that’s just annoying. And kind of “survival of the fittest” in action. I usually don’t let my feathers get too ruffled about that sort of thing. (Usually. If it happens at the wrong time of the month…not fun.)

However, I do get miffed when other writer pals put me down. I have this one friend who’s a new writer. (In the scheme of things. She really doesn’t know that much about publishing, publishing houses, or even really about the craft in general. Not that I’m an expert. Far from it. But I admit I’m still learning. Also, I’m a bit beyond the novice range. I know more than I realize, especially when I’m talking to her and hooking her up with links that can answer some of her questions.)

Anyway…she feels because she’s had a couple of things published online (short stories) she’s a pro…and is full of advice and criticism. She refuses to acknowledge I have a personal website with lists of all the awards and credits I’ve racked up over the years. She has it in her head I’m a newbie and she’s the veteran.

The other day she said something about being curious about my style. I told her to buy my book. (It’s not a good representation of it now, though. That was a freshman effort. My next projects show I’m maturing. Trouble is, they’re not anywhere I can tell her to go buy them.)

The other night I got really torqued when she said someone else was better than me. Someone who has NOTHING published and when I read what she was comparing against mine (that was forwarded to me), I KNEW she was jealous and doing the whole “blowing out my candle to try and make hers burn brighter” kind of thing.

In the real world, in a real situation, my writing would have annihilated the other persons. That’s not being conceited either. That’s just me knowing favorites were being played and an attempted put down had been leveled.

I got my justice when it came out that my manuscript had made it to the second round of the Amazon Breakthrough Novel contest. She didn’t like learning that too much.

Also, I remembered back to when I was first starting out. I used to get jealous of people for whatever reason and try to find things to pick apart about their writing.

Except, I never felt good afterwards. Tearing people down is not for me. It sure doesn’t build me up. I’m wondering if she’s just in a phase and will eventually, as she gets more credits to her own name, realize she doesn’t have to act like that.

And then there’s friends who want to drop comments about how we don’t have this or that, or they’d do something different from how we do it. Wayne and I will never have the newest, flashiest, hippest anything. It’s not how we roll.

Plus, as I was complaining to Wayne about a recent slight, he said, “Have them come talk to us in 20 years when we’re retired and they’re still banging their heads against the walls trying to pay for all their stuff.”

That comforted me at first. Until I realized, “Hey, isn’t me judging them and thinking I’m better because of how we save money the same as what they’re trying to do to me by giving me a hard time about not spending more?”

So…in the end I just have to remember something Joel Osteen preaches: about how you just keep the faith and do what you do and in the end you’ll be vindicated. (He has some clever way of putting it. I can’t remember it. I only remember the gist of it.)

Which is basically to let go and trust that the Universe has a funny way of making things right.

And you know what? Every time I’ve relaxed and had faith that no one could tarnish my star, that they could try but in the end others will see it shining as bright as it’s supposed to and will respond accordingly, I’ve come out better than okay.

I’m trying to develop a mantra to help remind me of that when it happens. And also that it’s not my problem, it’s the other persons. And really it’s a compliment, because little old me had them feeling threatened and less than somehow. To use a Mr. T expression, “I pity the fool!”

I was trying desperately to catch up on all of my overdue blog RSS reading today, but of course reading only sparks my muse’s fire.

The blog responsible for this post is The Random Mind of Miss Julie. Specifically it was her Biking in the Snow and White Out posts that got me thinking.

In those posts she included pics of snow-covered areas, such as DC, that had gotten whomped harder than usual this winter to show just what a weird winter it’s been. Even Arizona had gotten snow. (Well, it’s not uncommon for higher elevations to get snow during winter, but it is unusual for snow to fall in other parts of the state.)

Here is Nashville we’ve been cold, cold, cold, and had more snow than normal. Yet, I was talking to my friend Jade Walker who’s up in New Hampshire and they’ve gotten ripped off on the white stuff this winter. So, yes, the official consensus is it’s a weird winter!

But I’ve also heard people joke about global warming being a farce. How this winter is proof of that.

Yet I’ve seen others like my friends James share news story links on Facebook about how a harsher winter only proves global warming is getting worse.

I don’t know about global warming. I’m no scientist. Although, I don’t really buy it. Not in the way it’s currently being sold.

I do believe in the concept of global warming. Only because the Earth once experienced an Ice Age. It’s been heating up ever since that’s ended!

I think what we’re seeing now is natural. Man may have affected it somewhat, but I think the glaciers are destined to melt no matter what. Especially after I watched a NatGeo show about how the Great Lakes all once used to be glaciers themselves –and melted long before man had much influence on the environment!

Personally, I think we humans forget we live on a dynamic, ever-changing, ever-evolving planet. It scares us when we’re reminded of that because we can’t control it. Then we come up with ways to point the blame so we can feel like we have some sort of control…

But I’m digressing. Global warming or not, it’s a weird winter and most can agree on that.

But what if this was the last one? If global warming lives up to its name and the Earth’s temp only continues to rise, eventually there will come a time when snow never falls again. Just like how there’s a last snow every season. You’re not quit sure it will be the last (sometimes you’re hoping it will!), but you know it’ll be back, even if that means next winter.

But eventually, if what “they” say is true, there’ll come a season without snow. Followed by another, then another…

I don’t know about you, but that makes me sad. And more appreciative of whatever weather.

Because it reminds me that global warming aside, there’s going to be a last snow, a last rain, a last sunny day, a last fog in my own lifetime. And I’ll likely never even realize it was the last one. So, better to enjoy whatever the weather on this day because I just don’t know if I’ll be around to enjoy it tomorrow!

I got to thinking on my walk this morning, “Holy crumb. Twice now modern medicine’s saved my life.”

The first time was when I was born. I was breech. They had to perform a C-section to get me out. If I’d been born in a time when they didn’t know how to do it, or hadn’t perfected it…I wouldn’t be here.

Then, most recently, with my hitchhiker.

It really rocked me when I realized that twice now, just by benefit of the time period when I was born, there was medicine to save me.

That’s a really humbling thought. And kind of empowering.

I’m here for some reason. I don’t know what it is, but I’m meant to be here.

Either that or I’m part cat and I’ve now used at least two of my nine lives. (I can think of a couple other close calls, just not as dramatic as the breech or the hitchhiker, though.)

Wild.