Business is business. Maybe it's about making a difference in the world of consumers but mostly, it's about making money. I get that -- and if I owned my own company and offered some sort of product, surely my goal would be to reap a financial reward. And if I wanted to increase my reward, I guess I would consider new markets, new advertising, and new techniques for hauling in loads of cash.

So I see what's going on with the new Camel No. 9 cigarettes, in their hot-pink fuscia and minty-teal green packages with the slogan Light and Luscious. I understand this brand is targeting female smokers with enticing wording that Camel maker R.J. Reynolds executives say is meant to suggest dressed to the nines, putting on your best. I even get that it's a pretty savvy strategy. But somehow, it all seems so wrong.

In a world where more women die of lung cancer than breast cancer -- by a large margin -- how can anyone, even business people whose sights are set on profits, feel OK with the decision to encourage women to smoke?

Think about these passages that just recently published in a New York Times article:

Wall Street analysts praise the introduction of Camel No. 9, in regular and menthol flavors, as a further step by the R. J. Reynolds, a unit of Reynolds American, toward a new marketing strategy. The goal is to refocus on the biggest, most popular -- and most profitable -- brands, which include Kool as well as Camel.

"What we're about is giving adult smokers a choice," says one executive, "with products we believe are more appealing than existing products." The introduction of Camel No. 9 is part of plans to "focus on products that are 'wow,' " she added, "that add fun and excitement to the category."

Fun and excitement? Believe me, there's nothing fun and exciting about cancer. Now if I could only package that truth and market it to the world. I suspect I'd be a rich woman -- and I don't mean financially.

Lori is driving across the country trying to raise money -- $9,490 to be exact -- for breast cancer research. One dollar for every day that her mother battled breast cancer. And she is close. She has already raised $8,629.40 through sponsors and donations and has traveled a whopping 6,874 miles since she first hit the road in May. She's been through California and Nevada and North Dakota and Utah and Wyoming -- among other places. She camps and hikes and canoes and stops to see friends along the way. Like the friend she will visit today in Minnesota -- a friend who is surviving breast cancer. She stops at roadside attractions and restaurants and charming little overnight resorts. She stops for photos and to write on her blog -- and through it all, she reflects on the mother she lost almost one year ago. And she raises hope for others fighting breast cancer by giving 100 percent of her donations to The Breast Cancer Research Foundation. I am impressed. I am honored. I am in awe of what Lori is doing. Because I know I could never do it.

I don't like to travel -- and anything more than a three-hour trek in any direction, by any mode of transportation, is too much for me. And while I have traveled in my life to faraway places -- England, France, Germany, Italy, and more -- I do not enjoy any part of the process that gets me to and from my destinations. I'm not sure why. I just don't like it. But I admire those who venture to distant lands. And those who find excitement in a spontaneous trip. And those who tackle the long road across state lines for the pure thrill of it. And those -- like Lori -- who do it so others can benefit. So others can survive the disease that takes so many lives. The disease that took Lori's mom.