Oh. My. God. I am at hospital about to receive my Herceptin. Whenever I am weighed in the onco's office, I tell the nurse that I don't want to know my weight. He was claiming he didn't think I've gained weight since chemo started; I contended that I have. So he went and looked back to March, when I started. I have gained seven fucking pounds. Seven pounds! It's automatically assumed that you become a skinny minnie when you get chemo, but for us Taxol recipients, the opposite is the case. God damnit. I'm in the gym or doing power yoga or Pilates at least five days a week. I eat well. I've gotten my period twice, so I can't really blame the water weight anymore. So, WTF? Ughhhhhhh. I'll now have to have acupuncturist work on the weight issue.

What a lovely way to start the week. Fucking cancer—not only does it fuck with you in the really big ways, it even permeates your life in the smallest, most superficial aspects as well. Ain't it grand? Time to step up the workouts even more. Twice a day? Why not. I'll look at this as baby weight and pretend I've got some Hollywood trainer kicking my ass.

Alright, enough girly bitching.

The other day I was looking for my manuscript on this here fairly new Mac. When I saved all my files from my dad's laptop, I *knew* that I'd saved the manuscript and I knew the file name. When I went to look for the document on this computer the other day, it had vanished. Completely. From my emails too. Natch, I was absolutely panicked. The only version I found was about 30 pages and I knew the most recent one was up to about 100. This is pretty much every writer's worst nightmare. I located the CD, thank God, uploaded the files again and the manuscript was there—all 90-odd pages.

I was having lunch with Ben and Laura Saturday, after a failed attempt to attend an Obama strategy meeting, and Ben mentioned something about Mercury Retrograde. I had no idea what it was, but he started telling me how typically, during this time computers go awry, technological stuff is wackadoodle and there are communication breakdowns. B & L's computers had crashed like the day before. Suddenly, it made sense. Why have I never heard of this before?

Well, according to my rock-solid research efforts—Googling and then choosing one of the first three links—this is a widely known phenomenon.

According to Writer in the Window:

"All the planets, except Sun and Moon, have these retrograde periods, but Mercury is most famous for them, probably because Mercury represents our very essential communication abilities.

While people speak of Mercury Retrograde periods that screw up computers and television sets, today's astrologers believe the mishaps happen in more personal realms (Uranus is the planet that rules television and computers). Mercury rules communication, but more informal communications, like writing, speaking, short shopping sprees and other erranding endeavors. So, while Mercury is Retrograde, don't give that party, be extra aware of what you say and what you interpret when chatting with or writing to friends, cut back on errands, expect that the check will be in the mail longer than usual. Since the car is usually used for shopping and errands, don't be surprised if the battery wire loosens or the fan belt snaps just when you have rush out for that one ingredient you forgot to buy.

The good things to do when Mercury is Retrograde: meditate, contemplate, edit the book/poem/song/essay you've been writing, clean house, talk to your pet, listen to music, paint, catch up on sleep!"

Ah, well. Another reason to procrastinate on the writing.

And as an FYI for my loyal fans and readers out there. Ellen has a thing this month where survivors submit their stories to her. Natch, you know how much I love, love, love Ellen and the show, so I had to submit. And you also know that I bypass the normal channels—a page within the show's web site—and go straight to The Man, no matter what I do in life. In this case, the executive producer who Dana dated years ago when we lived in L.A. So I emailed him the Aventura story and he assured me he'd pass it along to their human interest dept.

It's a total long shot, but I had to do it. Ellen. I'm sending out those "if you visualize it it will happen" thoughts, so make it happen.

And happy birthday to Wally, who turned 13 yesterday! My little nugget—I can't wait for his return to mama.

Seven fucking pounds?! Fuck me.

P.S. Ben and Laura have a funny blog you should check out. Also, Lifetime is running a movie, Living Proof starring Harry Connick Jr. about the doctor who invented Herceptin, which is currently coarsing through my cathater as I write this. This drug has saved so many lives; check out the message board at the bottom of the page.