I don't watch music videos much anymore. My two little boys keep me too busy with all sorts of activities. Watching TV is not one of them.

This morning I had a moment to flip through the TV stations while my boys were splashing in puddles in the back yard. And I landed on the perfect station, playing the perfect song and video by Rob Thomas -- the guru behind the band Matchbox 20.

The music was uplifting. The words were inspiring. And as always, I interpreted my own version of reality from what I heard. Of course, it involved cancer.

What a perfect start to a rainy Florida day.

Think about this:

let it go,
let it roll right off your shoulder
don't you know
the hardest part is over
let it in,
let your clarity define you
in the end
we will only just remember how it feels

our lives are made
in these small hours
these little wonders,
these twists & turns of fate
time falls away,
but these small hours,
these small hours still remain

let it slide,
let your troubles fall behind you
let it shine
until you feel it all around you
and i don't mind
if it's me you need to turn to
we'll get by,
it's the heart that really matters in the end

our lives are made
in these small hours
these little wonders,
these twists & turns of fate
time falls away,
but these small hours,
these small hours still remain

all of my regret
will wash away some how
but i can not forget
the way i feel right now

in these small hours
these little wonders
these twists & turns of fate
these twists & turns of fate
time falls away but these small hours
these small hours, still remain,
still remain
these little wonders
these twists & turns of fate
time falls away
but these small hours
these little wonders still remain

Visit iTunes to listen to a 30-second clip of this song -- called Little Wonders, from the Meet The Robinson's movie soundtrack.

What can I do at Careplace?

At Careplace you can connect with others who's lives are like yours. Discuss treatments in online forums, create personal webpages, show support with virtual hugs, send private messages, create your own photo albums, groups and online journals.

• Join or start a group - Groups are places that people can organize to discuss common interests. If you take a certain medication and want to discuss your progress or side effects, you can share with other group members who take this medication. You can also create groups about fishing or baseball, anything goes!
• Join a discussion - Forums are where people come together to support one another, ask questions and share news or experiences.
• Send a private message - Sending private messages is a great way to get to know others better, share a friendly greeting or ask them for more information about something with which they have some experience.
• Send someone a hug - Sending hugs are an easy way to show someone you care and remind them they are not alone.

Careplace is a knowledge portal that isn't bogged down with medical jargon and words you don't understand. The pages have lists of personal experiences people have had with medications,treatments, doctors and hospitals.

I want to share some of the many new and exciting things I came across and learned about at the Young Survival Breast Cancer Conference. One online support group I found to be very helpful and innovative is called Pink-Link. It was started only a year ago and I think this is something that is needed in the breast cancer community.

The Pink-Link Breast Cancer Support Network provides valuable community and support resources for women affected by breast cancer.

Pink-Link is a nonprofit organization and all breast cancer support services are free. Pink-Link's key service, the online database of breast cancer patients and survivors, creates an intimate and personal link between breast cancer patients and survivors. The organization was founded by Victoria Tashman in 2005.

After completing a year of breast cancer treatment, Victoria wanted to give back to the community who supported her. Victoria had a wide support group of friends and family and met many women who were battling breast cancer on their own. Some of these women were afraid of talking to their doctors, asking them questions, and finding out more about their diagnosis and treatment.

Victoria realized that not all women take advantage of their local support groups, either because they didn't know about them, didn't feel comfortable in a group, or weren't able to go to group meetings.

She also realized that in most group meetings, the chances of meeting another breast cancer patient or survivor with the same diagnosis, recommended treatment, family situation, and other such details was very slim.

Victoria created Pink-Link to fill this void. By creating an on-line database of patients and survivors, Victoria envisions women diagnosed with breast cancer getting the particular, targeted support they need from the comfort of their own home. Victoria believes in the power of women helping other women and is positive that through Pink-Link, women with breast cancer can face their illness with increased knowledge and confidence.

Six-year-old Joey told his doctor the other day about my cancer. The topic came up because Joey wore a pink tie-dye t-shirt in anticipation of a gymnastics meet we would attend later that day. The meet was dedicated to breast cancer awareness, and fans were encouraged to pack the place pink. Joey was ready.

Joey told the doctor all about his shirt. And all about me.

"My mom had cancer," he said. "But she survived."

He talked about everything I had to endure, about his surprise that I had to go through so much. He spoke lovingly, his doctor told me. She said he seemed proud.

Joey's doctor told me his eyes were full of emotion when he spoke about me and my cancer. She said he wasn't on the verge of tears, but he was surely passionate about his mom's victory over a disease he just barely comprehends.

And I am proud of Joey. I am proud of his loyalty, his support, his ability to express his emotions, his unwavering enthusiasm for all things pink.

Yes, I survived. Joey did too. And we are both tickled pink.

I told my six-year-old son today that on Friday, we will attend a University of Florida gymnastics meet. Not such a big deal in and of itself but the fact that the entire meet is dedicated to the battle against breast cancer is what makes my announcement to Joey so important. You see, Joey has been my faithful companion ever since I was diagnosed with breast cancer two years ago. He has been my link to all things simple. He has been my rock, my inspiration, my motivation to fight for my life.

I told Joey this sports event is a celebration of people with breast cancer, like me. And I told him everyone must wear pink, a color he knows well when it's twisted in ribbon formation. I eagerly awaited Joey's reaction to the whole pink thing, not because he has an aversion to pink but because his absolute favorite color is orange and he tends to choose this fabric selection whenever possible. But without hesitation, Joey was completely accepting of making a pink fashion statement.

I told Joey we would make shirts so we could be as pink as possible on Friday. So we bought white t-shirts and two shades of pink dye, and we will soon tie-dye our shirts for the festive occasion where both University of Florida and University of Kentucky gymnasts will wear pink leotards -- in different shades -- and where the fans will make donations to the local American Cancer Society.

Joey asked me while we shopped for our t-shirt supplies if lots of people have cancer.

"Yes," I told him, recalling a fact I had just learned -- 8.9 million Americans alive today have a history of cancer. "Lots of people have cancer."

I am not sure what this means to Joey. But I suspect his comprehension of the disease is limited to pink ribbons, bald heads, and periodic celebrations. If only cancer were that simple.

Cancer is not simple. But Joey helps me face each day with simplicity. And I can't wait to simply make a few t-shirts with him and then pack the place pink in honor of all the women who every day face the complexities of a fierce opponent.