Did I Happen to Mention...?

Dear Diary,
These days I seem to be just flyin' by the seat of my pants, and that includes the topic for today.  I don't know what thoughts will be flying off these typing fingers.....

I could mention the leaky windows we have yet to replace, one of which I am sitting near on this breezy, 50 degree day. 

I could mention that I took the bird to the vet today, for which he received a steroid shot to somehow possibly heal his lame foot, and I received a nice little bill.

I could mention how intensely heated the political realm is and what an idiot a certain presidential candidate is, but I think I vowed not to talk politics here (reference the definition of "pleasant" in my last post).  Plus the language gets too racy for decent folk.

I could mention that I got contacted for a job interview tomorrow, and yes, I have done a few Happy Dances as a result.

I could mention how great my kids and husband are, and that behind all great kids and husbands is a great mom and wife.

I could mention that I still think about a moment after my third daughter was born almost 12 weeks premature, with two preschoolers at home, and me still recovering from a physically and mentally traumatic birth experience.  I was at Walmart at 10:00 at night and just wanted to get home to crash (a ten 'oclock trip to Walmart is no leisure shopping trip).  I finished unloading my cart and put it aside the car, rather than heft it to the cart corral.  Suddenly, out of the cold darkness comes the holler of some lady (some random lady, my kids would say) in the parking lot, reaming me out for being lazy with the cart.  Really?  Is your life so bad that you need to get your cheap power kicks off some poor, unsuspecting, random stranger who is living close to a nightmare?

Did I mention that that was over 9 years ago?  That tells you what kind of person I am. 
I need to let it go.   As much as I was hurt and offended by this person, and as much as I needed to attend to my own needs, I do believe I went home and prayed for her.  It was my only defense.

Note to self:  A helping hand is much better than a sharp word.

Helping hand?  Sharp word?  I know which act I would want a stranger or friend to remember me for, especially if it's remembered more than 9 years later!

Letting go,
LJ