Walkin' on broken birds.

“I’m in love I’m in love and I don’t care who knows it! Babe, I’m gonna scan some Clorox Wipes. I stinken love me some Clorox Wipes.”

 

Registering for a wedding. Does it get any better than this?

 

After hours of hearing how “we need to register for fine china, don’t register for a camera because they’re all discontinued,” deciding that we are in DIRE NEED of a Soda Stream, and hearing the ever-so-clever argument from your man-child-fiance of why in the world he scanned 47 Tide-To-Go pens…..I was ready to start focusing on decorating our future home.

 

Precious.

 

The movie. I scanned the movie Precious. I like that movie.

 

I’ve never seen that movie. I should probably add that to my registry then….

 

Decorating, oh yes! Decorating. I’ve found that I like browns.

 

Maybe because I’m going to be a nurse, and we’re the only people who get excited about poop.

 

 

 

Also, I love birds.

 

Don’t get me wrong, I hate REAL LIVE birds. They are utterly terrifying. Every time I see one of those big crows picking at road kill along the highway I can see him look up at me and say, “YOU’RE NEXT.”

 

 

 

Fake birds. Décor birds. Those adorable love birds that are on canvas paintings, place mats, shelves.

 

Target has so many birds.

 

I just love those stinken birds.

 

I found the birds.

 

“I’m scanning this.” I picked up a beautiful white ceramic bird, already planning where I would put it on those wall shelves we just scanned in aisle 13. This will make a great shelf bird.

 

“Scan the other one too so we can have both,” my love crooned to my right.

 

Now, I was going to scan the other bird.

 

But everyone keeps telling me that I need to practice submission. The more that they mention it, the less submissive I become and the more I hear Destiny’s Child singing “All the women, who independent!” singing somewhere across Target’s majestic rows and SUDDENLY….I lose my desire to scan the other bird.

 

“I will scan the other bird if I want to scan the other bird,” I reply with a smile. He rolls his eyes. He knows me well. “And you’re lucky because I want to scan the other bird.” Not breaking eye contact, I single-handedly scan that precious fowl and sit it back down submissively/defiantly back on its Target-made perch…not carefully enough to where it was steady and lo and behold, the bird lost its desire to live and went crashing to the ground, exploding into fifty pieces.

 

:cue laughter of fiancé:

 

:also cue maniacal face of the manager who just happened to be standing a few yards away:

 

 

 

I don’t blush often, but I definitely did here. I gave up my will to scan and gave control back over to my loving man-friend who inevitably let it go and didn’t mention it again. NOT! Any bird he found after that he would hold it in my face and say, “Miss Kendra, why isn’t my daddy coming home tonight?”

 

I don’t like being humbled.

 

That’s exactly how it is, isn’t it?

 

The moment we get defiant, the moment we get humbled.

 

An attitude ain’t pretty. Getting humbled is even uglier. The JerBear was just trying to be nice, helpful even, but I wanted to be in control, because by golly I’m always right. Or maybe just not teachable?

 

Let the words of my mouth, and the meditations of my heart, be acceptable in Thy sight.

 

Brings on a whole new meaning after humility sets in.