Yesterday I got an email from Amazon saying I’d been sent an Amazon.com gift card redemption. I immediately deleted it.

There was no name and I knew no one I knew had mentioned they were sending me an Amazon gift card. It must be some kind of spam or virus or something bad. Hence, the delete button.

But then something nagged at me to go back and check it out.

Could it maybe be legit? Had I perhaps actually earned some money via my Amazon Associates program? That’s the only thing I could think of that would explain the gift card.

Incredibly, after going to check my AA account and learning that, yep, my balance had finally earned enough to merit paying me, I about busted out of my skin.

It’s nothing huge. All of $10.06.

I’ve had an Amazon Associates account for how long now? Since I launched courtneymroch.com back whenever that was. (I can’t even remember what year I did that. 2000? 2001? It seems I’ve had it forever now.)

After seeing where my fees came from, it’s all from my Haunt Jaunts blog. Amazing. It actually works.

No, I can’t buy much with it, but what a neat feeling to know it does actually work. I’ve read about other people making money that way for years, but until now I couldn’t say I ever had.

First time for everything!

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I just have to get this out: I hate telling people what kind of cancer I had.

Don’t get me wrong. I never mind talking about my cancer. I’m not ashamed of it like some people are. I had it, it was a huge part of my life, and it always will be. It’s part of the Courtney package now.

However, everyone always wants to know what kind it was. It’s not their fault. That’s how society has conditioned us. We think of cancer by their labels. (And in some cases associate them by the celebrities that had them.)

• Breast cancer. Very bad. Very sad when a woman gets it. Has the potential to be very deadly. Lots of ways to support the fight. Pink ribbons everywhere.
• Lung cancer. The smoker’s cancer. Very bad. Very deadly. Basically a death sentence when you’re diagnosed. Not much sympathy. Everyone assumes you brought it on yourself with your bad habits.
• Testicular cancer. For men only. a.k.a “nut cancer” or “what Lance Armstrong had.”
• Prostrate cancer. Also for men only. Has the potential to be very deadly. Not discussed as openly as many others.
• Pancreatic cancer. Bad news. Not curable. (a.k.a. the “Patrick Swayze one”.)

These are just some of them. The list goes on and on. (Unfortunately.) As do the way we associate them. (Also unfortunately.)

I understand doctors and researchers need to classify the different cancers because they all respond to treatments differently. But for the rest of us?

Cancer is cancer.

It’s scary. It’s life changing. It’s surreal. And it’s different for everyone. Both the treatments and how they experience it.

It’s driving me nuts that some cancers, like breast, are everywhere. It’s like some Pink Ribbon Club now. There are times I almost feel left out that I got lymphoma, a very common cancer in its own right, instead of freaking breast cancer because there’s no “club” for mine! (You don’t see lime green ribbons on products in every store from grocery to department to sporting goods, do you?)

But thanks to my family’s history, chemo and radiation I have plenty of opportunities to join that club at some point in the future. Great. (In case it’s not clear, I’m being sarcastic. I really don’t have any desire to become a member of the Pink Ribbon Club.)

But see there? Anyone who had breast cancer might now be offended. “What, my club’s not good enough for you?”

See what all this labeling has the potential to do? That’s exactly why I don’t like it and why it drives me nuts!

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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!

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Something I see a lot of people doing when something bad happens to them is asking, “Why me?”

Long before I ever learned I had cancer I had resolved if anything bad ever happened to me, I would not go there –to the “Why me?” pity place.

I always thought, “How presumptuous can a person be to ask that question? What, did you think when you were born you’d get special privileges that would exempt you from suffering life’s tragedies just like everyone else?”

Yes, I always felt it was an extremely arrogant and self-centered question. And, should something horrendous ever happen to me, it wouldn’t even be worth whispering those words.

And I didn’t –not once at any stage in the “Oh shit, I have cancer!” process did I ever go there. I wasn’t even tempted.

However, ever since I’ve survived the Black Cloud’s wrath I find myself asking a “Why me?” question nonetheless. It goes a little something like this: Why did I survive when others don’t?

For example, the other night we watched the Survivor season finale. During the reunion portion of the show they paid tribute to former Survivor Jenn Lyon who died of cancer earlier this year. She was only 37.

Wayne immediately dove for the remote wanting desperately to change the channel. But he was too late. I saw it. Images of the beautiful young woman who once upon a time purposely subjected herself to enduring the elements for 39 days (if she could make it that far) with perfect strangers in a quest for a million dollar prize.

I tried and tried to hold back my tears, to not react the way I always do when I learn of a fellow cancer soldier losing his or her battle with the disease. Mostly I tried to put on a brave face because I knew Wayne would beat himself up for not having changed the channel fast enough to spare me from seeing it.

It’s his way of protecting me. I love him for it.

I could almost feel him holding his breath as he waited for the inevitable: the deluge that always follows. But, as it always does, it finally came.

And with it so did my string of “why” questions: Why her? Why not me? Why am I still here? Why are some cured and others aren’t? Why was I so lucky?

Then we had to staunch the flow of panic that also accompanies these events when I’m reminded of how lucky I am to have had 16 months, two weeks, and a day more with Wayne than I could have had if the alternative had happened.

I know I’ll never have an answer to any of my questions. I’m not sure I’d really want to know the answer anyway. But this is what I do know:

I know I’m here thanks to many factors: the scientists and researchers who invented the treatments that saved my life, those patients who went before me to perfect the treatments, the doctors and nurses who know how to correctly administer them, friends and family who lent their strength, support and comfort when mine was weak, and even my own Life Force willing me not to go out just factored in.

Most of all I know the “Why not me?” feelings I have is survivor’s guilt.

I know all of that, but it’s never enough to keep me from wondering it anyway.

Blessings to you and your life, Jenn Lyon. You accomplished whatever you were put here for faster than those who loved you would’ve preferred. I hope their memories of you provide comfort as they mourn your passing.

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My nerves were all frazzled this morning. I had to drive over to the Hillwood Country Club and play a rescheduled match against one of the Real Housewives of Hillwood teams. (I think that’s just such a clever name, especially for this team. Totally works for them.)

Regular team matches are usually on Thursday, but the team we were playing needed to reschedule. So…we played today instead.

I was kind of mad because the first week ended up being me and my partner’s Bye week, then last week was “spring break” so there were no matches. Then this week we had to do the reschedule thing, and I knew next week I’d be gone down to Destin for a volleyball tournament.

After matches it’s customary for the team to go to lunch. It’s social hour. That’s a big part of why I joined. To have a little bit more of a social outlet here. (And to find new lunch places. I’m all about food!)

However, I’m glad that my first real match worked out the way it did. My nerves would’ve been even more jangled with everyone there, players on the other courts and having to worry about sending balls their way (or being interrupted by any of their strays), etc.

This worked out really nice. It was like having a private match.

And it was on clay. My first time ever playing on that. Kind of a weird surface, but nice. I sort of liked it. (I’d heard bad stuff about clay, but…I didn’t think it was too bad.)

We didn’t win. It was 1-6 the first set, but we rallied second set and walked out with 4-6. For my first time ever doing something like this, I’ll take it. It turned out to be a gorgeous, fun morning to be out getting some great exercise.

Next week…Destin!

Who knew I’d be so sporty at nearly 40? Crazy.

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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!

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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!

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…is that they’re their own worst enemies.

Oh, and in case you’re not clear on what a PIA is, it’s Pain In the Ass.

Sometimes it’s only a temporary condition. I can be a PIA to Wayne when it’s Moody Cooties time. (You know, when Aunt Flow’s due to visit?) He can be a PIA when he’s working too many hours.

But then there are those people who are permanently (and IMO irreversibly) afflicted with PIA Syndrome. I had to deal with one of those yesterday.

I knew she was going to be trouble from the get go. She’s a very uptight, controlling person who believes she’s more important than she is. And everything’s got to be done a certain way (hers) and she must have a say in how things are orchestrated even when she really shouldn’t.

Like when she’s a guest blogger on my blog. It’s my terms, bitch. Deal with it.

Anyway, normally I’m way too laid back to be bothered much by so much intensity. I’m pretty good at smoothing over ruffled feathers (even ones that are determined to always have something to be ruffled about), but when it’s Moody Cooties time my patience flies out the window.

Yesterday she was all about the drama, and the thing of it is…she was creating it all. Instead of stepping back and giving someone the benefit of the doubt that they (me) knew what they (I) was talking about because it is my blog and I know a thing or two about it, she jumped on the accusations.

“It’s wrong. This is the right link.”

I tried to politely explain that, no, that was not the right link. The original one was.

“But it’s not centering or pulling up right. It’s all wrong and all my people from East Coast to West can’t see it. Stop promoting it. There’s no point if it’s not right.”

Excuse me? You better back up the bus, Martha, and get a better ‘tude with me. I ain’t got time to be dealing with that kind of nonsense.

Normally I would’ve, though. I would’ve coddled and placated her until I could get the matter clear. We might even have a good laugh about it.

But yesterday I had an extremely busy day. I was also stressed because it was a three month oncologist check-up day.

“What ifs” plague me when I have to go for check-ups. And to boot while I was there Aunt Flow decided to land. (She didn’t full on arrive until I got home thankfully, but the pains had already flared.)

So my mental state was pretty keyed up for a change. That’s why when I got a snarky email from Miss Intensity freaking out because she can’t understand the link I sent her WAS the right one, I snapped.

The link was not pulling up weird for me as she claimed it was. I would of course happily fixed it if I saw there was a problem. I don’t see it on my end therefor I don’t know what’s wrong or how to fix it for her.

But to have the nerve to tell me to stop promoting a link on my own site or via Twitter and Facebook? Step off!

That’s just poor policy. I won’t be dealing with that person anymore.

And I can bet others aren’t going to put up with that kind of nonsense either because most people aren’t as nice as I am. She’s shooting herself in the foot with her high maintenance PIA ways.

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For the last 20 years I’ve fretted about my weight. I’ve watched it do mostly nothing except go up. A few times I score a victory and see it drop for a bit.

But the trouble is I love food, I find a lot of pleasure in eating, and I detest counting calories. So the only watching of what I eat is watching it go in my mouth.

I’ve come up with a bunch of diet plan ideas the last few years. I’ve never stuck with them long enough to see if they’d work, but I’ve always thought if I could, I might find weight loss fame and fortune in addition to weight loss.

Here’s a few of my diet plans:

1. THE FIVE MINUTE PLAN: Set a timer for five minutes. Eat whatever you want in those five minutes. Repeat three times a day. Have two one-minute snacks throughout the day. (The thinking is, “How much could you really eat in five minutes?” Surely this would limit calorie intake and help you lose weight.)
2. THE SURVIVOR PLAN: I heard someone else talk about doing this once too, so it’s maybe not entirely fresh. (At least about eating like they do on Survivor somewhat. But the workout ideas are all mine.) THE FOOD PORTION: Eat only a cup of rice three times a day (tops) for 39 days. (If you can make out with only once or twice a day that’d probably help you lose weight faster.) You can also have coconut, mangos and bananas a couple times a day. THE WORKOUT PORTION: Like they do on the show, you can also have “Rewards” every once in a while. The Rewards are key to the exercise side of the equation of this diet plan. You want to do a lot of exercise. And having an “opponent” doing this plan would also be good. You can compete to see who wins the most weight lost every few days. Winner gets a predetermined award you’ve agreed on between yourselves. You can also compete in physical challenges: Whoever can walk the farthest in 30 minutes on a treadmill, whoever has the fastest time on a bike (stationary or otherwise), or even use the Wii and do Wii Fit things to see who has the youngest age or who gets higher scores on any of the aerobics or training games. If you don’t have anyone to compete against, you can modify some of the above for an individual and reward yourself if you reach your weight loss goal that week or get a certain score on certain Wii Fit Plus games.
3. THE PANERA’S DIET: First it was Subway, now Taco Bell’s got one, but Panera’s is really the most obvious of all the “fast food” chains to have food that could help with weight loss. Think about it, if you eat Panera’s every day for every meal (because they do offer breakfast, lunch and dinner), and you lose weight, you could be the next fast food chain spokesperson to claim weight loss fame and fortune! The only downside is both Subway and Taco Bell are a little lighter on the pocketbook. Panera’s could cost as much as NutriSystems or Jenny Craig for the food. (Well, maybe not that much.) However, if you’re successful, it’ll probably translate into compensation eventually. Likely from being a paid Panera’s spokeperson.

What kind of diet plans have you ever envisioned? Have you ever tried any of them?

My husband, who for all intents and purposes is the rational and logical one between us, believes in astrology. So do I, but it makes sense for me to. I’m the one with Gypsy Magick, tarot cards, and a dream journal camping out in my nightstand. He’s got sailing instruction manuals and copies of Investor’s Business Daily on his.

TWO VIRGOS

However, we’re both Virgos. As long as I can remember (meaning ever since we started dating back in 1986), he’s read his horoscope.

About 15 years ago, he started noticing something: whatever happens to him, happens to me (or vice versa). It was simply uncanny and unmistakable when the horoscope said we’d be experiencing X, we’d both experience X.

It might be a little bit different, but you could see the similarities. Someone would call me out of the blue, same thing with him. I’d have an issue with a family member or co-worker, so would he.

THE BLACK CLOUD

In 2008, I started noticing what I called a “black cloud” hovering over us. I even wrote about it when I still worked for Families.com. People had all kinds of suggestions for trying to get out from under it, and Wayne even thought I was attracting all the doom because I kept focusing on it.

However, in 2009 he got more into the astrology after I was diagnosed with cancer and again reiterated it had to be a black cloud. No way could someone be through all we’d gone through with my mom and sister in 2008, then five months later get cancer too without some kind of something being involved.

Guess what? I was right. There was a black cloud –well, more like a black planet. Wayne figured out Saturn was to blame.

THE BIG, BAD BLACK PLANET

Saturn had entered Virgo in 2007. That was a challenging year too. I spent half of it away from Wayne because he’d moved back to Florida to take a new job, which left me behind to try and sell the house. It was no fun.

Five months later the house was still not selling (or not for what we were willing to part with it for) and the new job was sucking it. He decided to move back and get his old job back. That was November 2007. Three months later my mom went down and next thing I knew I was moving her in with us to care for her.

We learned a lot of life lessons during those years. It forged us in ways we maybe haven’t even realized yet. When 2009 drew to a close we were celebrating because it also meant kissing Saturn goodbye. Bye, bye Black Planet, hello happy times are here again!

IT’S BAAAAAAAACK

But then we learned Saturn was going to pull a fast one on us. It wasn’t done with us yet and was going to come back into our lives for a brief stint in 2010.

NOOOOOOO!!!!!

Today Wayne sent me a link explaining April was going to throw us a double whammy: Saturn moves back into Virgo for a 14 week stay starting April 7 and Mercury goes Retrograde (which poses problems for all signs) on April 18.

SENSE OF FOREBODING

The last few days I’ve had this bad feeling. A feeling that this nice, happy life we’ve been living lately, the one that so resembled our life pre-Black Cloud, was going to evaporate. Something “else” was going to happen and rain on our parade again.

I knew Saturn was going to affect us again, but I hadn’t paid attention to when. Here’s my head’s up that I need to buckle up and strap in for another bumpy ride.

But the good thing is it won’t last too long. Come July 21 we’ll be done with Saturn for another 36 years.

MORE ABOUT SATURN THE BIG, BAD, BLACK CLOUD PLANET

Even though I’m not too fond of Saturn because I associate it with cancer, trauma, alienation, and betrayal, astrologist Susan Miller sums up Saturn best: the teacher-taskmaster planet. (She also referred to living through Saturn influences as surviving the “cosmic bootcamp.” I thought that was so clever and perfect because that’s what it felt like!)

While it is true that Saturn will make you work hard and teach you many maturing life lessons, the gains you make during these rare Saturn cycles will be yours to keep forever. You’ll also be quite proud of your accomplishments, for those will be hard won, but worth the effort. Saturn brings stability and structure – we all need both on which to build our dreams. ~excerpt from Susan Miller’s Astrology Zone Virgo Horoscope for 2010~

Interestingly enough, the last time Saturn was in Virgo (before the 2007-2009 time, that is) was 1977-1980. Those years sucked balls for me too. It was when my parents broke up and the custody battle began.

ON THE UPSIDE

From April 1-24 is supposed to be a good time for travel at least. Great! Because 4/21-4/25 we’ll be down in Destin for a volleyball tournament. (It’s also supposed to be a good time to be with friends and for sports so that really has the promise of being the fun time we’re all anticipating it to be!)

Also, Susan Miller wrote that the last time (2007-2009) Saturn was in Virgo, all the “learning” (a.k.a. trauma) had to be handled alone. (Oh man have I never felt as alone as I did, especially from 2008-2009. However, it was curious learning that was also cosmically-influenced).

This time around when Saturn enters Virgo there will be an aspect that’s different: Jupiter in Pisces. This change means that there’ll be partners offering “good ideas and methods to inspire and assist you.” I’ll take it! (I hated that feeling of being so, so, so alone. It got better when I got cancer. Wayne’s love shined through and friends made it abundantly clear how they felt, but before that…very lonely time!)

Also, it’s just 14 weeks and the effects are not supposed to be as intense for birthdays in the earlier part of the sign. (Anything after Sept 17-23 though is supposedly in for a little stronger medicine. Apparently they didn’t get the “full effects” of Saturn’s wrath –er, I mean influence– the first time around because it left before it made it to their part of the charts to complete the cycle or something.)

However, my guard is now up because I’ve had this unsettled feeling lately. But unless it kills me, I’ve lived through hell. It did make me stronger. So, bring it, Saturn. I’m ready.

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