Today, in two different instances, I was told that I made rash decisions and I was not patient.......

Made me so mad!

The rest of the morning, I thought of my favorite childhood book, That Makes Me Mad, by Steve Kroll.

(This book was written about Margaret Alice!)

Later in the evening, I found rest in my yard.

The sun warmed my shoulders as the cool breeze played in my hair and down my neck.

I strolled around my yard and solved life's problems as the sun set on my porch.

I regained my Smile, as I photographed Spring.

Then Jeff joined me, in my happy place, and informed me of a baby bird that fell, or was thrown, or was abandoned under one of my large Nandena bushes.

I investigated the site and found the baby bird, without feathers, without eyes, but pushing out it's undeveloped wings and simultaneously kicking out its giant feet. I could see the organs through its baby, featherless body. It was struggling.

Someone I have never met began to take over my body. My heart had a weird feeling, as if it cared for this animal. My eyes moistened and my voice quivered as I told Jeff, "you have to do something!"

We discussed putting it in one of two bird nests in nearby trees, but we knew that would only bring harm or abandonment of the eggs in those nests.

We discussed that nature needed to take its course. The baby had to be so far from the nest and mama bird, and it could not be saved.

But I....well, the sweet stranger that was possessing my body at the moment, thought the baby bird needed to be put out of misery.

After pleading and pushing Jeff (animal lover) to kill the baby, he reluctantly, but obediently, chopped its head off with the shovel and buried the severed (yet still kicking) body.

As soon as he covered the body with the dirt, a bird flew out of the top of the bush, 5 inches from the burial.

"Oh no!" I gasped as Jeff said "no, you have to be kidding me."

Then we heard the tiniest peeps as we looked closer and discovered the siblings......

"pssst, hey. Since I'm stuck on the row with the youth, could you just grab my communion when you get yours?"

Tonight was Maundy Thursday service at our church. This was a special night for Max. The eighth graders (or older teens) complete their new members class and join the church on Maunday Thursday. This is the first time that many of them take communion with the rest of the church. A nice dinner is served to them and their families, then they sit together in the service, and go to the front of the church to receive the communion, while the rest of us have communion passed in the pew.

When I arrived at dinner, the youth leader told me he placed our family in the back, but I would be first in line for dinner. I told him it did not matter where I sat, I would still make sure I was first in line.

Tables were called and I was EXACTLY the first one in line. Not embarrassed yet, I served myself large portions. I was hangry (anger from hunger).

I ate my plate and Jack's......

When they called for seconds, I seemed to be the only one partaking....pushing aside the awareness of needing to be embarrassed.

Stuffed and feeling not so petite, I waddled to the service. We sat behind the youth.

When it was time for communion, the youth leader, sitting in front of me, turned around and whispered:

"pssst, hey. Since I'm stuck on the row with the youth, could you just grab my communion when you get yours?"

Not remembering that we were to stay seated, I assumed I would be going up front, as we always do.

"Seriously?" I whispered back.

"Yea, just grab one for me when you get yours."

Stunned at that thought I whispered, "is this because I was first in line for dinner?"

"Yes. It is your prize. Get me communion!"

"Is that even legal?"

I sat there for the next few minutes trying to figure out how I was going to steal communion for a member of our church staff, the youth leader!

After the elder holding the bread plate, gave me the blessing for my piece, I could say, "and I'll take this one to-go".

That may be seen as irreverent.

I could say "this is for Keasling."

What if the elder didn't hear me, or understand? I could cause a traffic jam in the communion line, creating a scene and making it look like I was arguing, instead of taking my blessing.

The anxiety was growing and then my brain gears started to creak and slowly turn.......wait. A. Minute. Why is he stuck......with the youth....why wouldn't he get up......and get his own communion!

As soon as the gears clicked, I looked to my left and saw they were passing the plate.....he just meant I was to let him turn around and get communion from our plate.

As the relief of not having to sneak seconds on the communion was lifted, I involuntarily leaned up and slapped his arm as I loudly whispered, "oh my gosh! I thought you meant I had to go up front and get it! Whew!"

A couple of weeks ago, I called a man about his resume. He happened to be out of town, working in Bulgaria. We played phone tag for several days trying to catch each other when "the satellite moved into the right position".

I gave up on contacting him and put him at the bottom of my pile of resumes.

On April Fools, I received a text from a number I did not recognize and I couldn't help myself!

I had to respond.

Today, I got a call

"Margaret, this is Blah Blah."

(Changed the name for stranger privacy)

"We talked when I was in Bulgaria."

I was delighted, "it's you! Are you back in the states?"

He laughed, "yes! I am back. Did you pick up the kids?"

I was stumped. "Pick up the kids?"

"Yes. You told me that you sold the kids and that you loathe me."

I suddenly turned into Beaker, from the Muppets.

"Ah. That was you? That was so funny! I posted about it because crazy things happen to me all the time!"

(To be read with high pitch Beaker muppet voice)

He laughed, "your response was so funny. I knew my mistake when I read your response, but I thought I would wait until I returned to tell you it was me."

I love my job!

I HATE shopping for clothes.

I am short, thick and....well, unique.

I can't just grab something cute, buy it and wear it. I have to try on clothes. "Cute and tiny" is out and "coverage and comfort" is the game.

I needed a blouse to replace a well worn, holey favorite. I needed summer dress shoes, and I needed some running shorts.

Running shorts....

What is the scientific reason, that when I walk or run, the right side of my shorts tries to crawl up to my armpits? I thought it was fat thighs, but I'm starting to think it is a personal mutation.

So when I say running shorts, I mean knee pants. If these ride up, it may create a tourniquet, causing a new issue and I'll be known around town as running girl with dead leg, RGWDL, instead of running girl with wadded shorts, RGWWS.

I quickly take my necessary items into the dressing room. To speed up this painful process and decrease the mirror time, I put on all three items at the same time.

I laughed at myself, as I stood there in brown heels, black with lime racing stripe spandex knee pants, and a multicolored spring plaid blouse. I looked up at my face to roll my eyes at myself, but was distracted by the rogue springy curls that had flopped to the opposite side, creating the insect antennae look.

I turned away from the mirror to check a text on my phone. Seconds later I heard a knock on my dressing room door.

"Someone's in here" I sighed.

"Um, like. I think I like left my wallet in there...hee hee hee"

An obviously over giggly girl replied in the annoying voice that raises at the end of every sentence.

I looked on the floor and found a hot pink wallet that had "hotty" embroidered in white swirly letters.

My judgement of this girl made me forget what I was doing. I opened the door wide and handed her the wallet.

I can only imagine that she HAD BEEN smiling, because when she saw me, her face dropped, mouth opened, and her gum dangled on the end of her tongue, in mid chew.

Her eyes started at my way too high-heeled taupe shiny shoes, (that I chunked back on the shelf before running out of the store) and her gaze slowly moved up my white randomly bruised bare legs, over my spandex capri knee pants, up to my plaid shirt, skipped my face and landed on my curls, that waved at her like a social two year old thinking everyone is here to see them.

I remembered my fashion at the moment, thought about denying that I would EVER wear these at the same time, but instead I spread my arms like Vanna White and let my fingers push the door toward her, closing.

"Thank....you..." She said as I imagined her running to blog about the old eclectic lady in the Target dressing room.