A few weeks ago, I wrote the most personal post I’ve ever written since I started this blog. I was touched by the outpouring of support, from frequent readers and those I didn’t even know had discovered this space. It’s true what you, my friends, have said; I am not alone. It felt good to read that, and to get together with one friend for coffee and another for lunch, to talk about what’s been going on in my head and be faced with someone nodding and saying, I understand.

I had moments of regret after that post. It was hard for certain people in my life to see me “pouring out my soul” on my blog. But that’s what a personal blog is, and while I do keep in mind the effect of my words on others (I purposely do not tell stories that are my husband’s, or my children’s to tell) some things are about me, and I share them in hopes that they will help another working mom, or another reader of ANY kind with what they may be facing in life. So the good outweighed the bad, and I’ve shelved that regret along with my bikinis; I’ll not consider either again.

What the post did, in addition to freeing my mind, was help me have the conversations I’d been wanting to have, with members of my family who, without benefit of seeing me or talking to me often, had no idea how I was doing. It forced me to make those calls, as hard as they were.

As an update, since you asked, I’m doing well. I’m feeling quite good; great on some days, in fact. I’m having fun, which is still pretty novel, so I’m living in the moment. I’ve also lost about nine pounds, and fitting into my skinny jeans feels good, too. Obviously, I’m blogging again and enjoying that, too. Thanks again to all of you for reading and lifting my spirits. You guys rock.

Blogging it, Sesame Street style:

1. One woman, working in her home office, thinking about reputation management strategies, and typing away on a laptop.

2. Two kids coming home from school and staying inside on a perfectly beautiful spring day.

3. Three Northern Red Bellied Cooters (turtles, to you and me) swimming and playing in an aquarium in my house. Their mama buried her eggs in our yard last summer; they hatched this spring and the boy rescued them from lawn mower death. They are Arthur, Samson and Delilah. Actually, they were just Samson and Arthur until Mark found another one and plopped it into the aquarium. (”What? You can’t just introduce another turtle into the mix!” said the boy.) Delilah has effectively made Arthur a fifth wheel.

4. Four baby birds that did not survive the fall from the nest we removed from our kayak. We did not know they were there! Their tiny embryonic bodies, without feathers and with closed orb-like eyes, perished. I buried them with a small ceremony in the backyard.

5. Five deer that ran past my office window this afternoon. A large brown animal caught my eye and I thought, “My, that’s a large dog.” and then, “A deer!” and, “NO, wait — 1, 2, 3, 4, 5! Five deer!” I can count.

6. Six tiny goslings, taking a walk with Mother and Father goose. Success! The geese have hatched!

I have made many jelly rolls in my life. Usually, it’s a white cake outside with seedless raspberry jam in the middle. I like to make them because they are spring-like and lovely.

This year, for Easter, I decided to be adventurous, and try a chocolate jelly roll.

The pressure was on, because the in-laws were here, so I made my desserts and breakfast rolls from scratch. I lost track of things in the middle of the chocolate roll, and it didn’t turn out the way I would have liked.

In fact, it looked, as you can see, like a giant pile of poo.

And so when my family sat down to eat, they stared in horror admired this creation before them, what one christened, “the Easter turd.” “We think,” another said, “the Easter bunny left a little something behind.”

It seems we have a new tradition. It was, after sliced and on plates, quite delicious as it’s filled with chocolate pudding and coated with a chocolate glaze. I may, on the other hand, never make it again.

By an overwhelming majority, the “downs” have the vote. Thanks to all who helped me make this life-altering decision, including this guy, who provided his vote in person, and Kelsey, who provided her vote via the boy and IM. Sorry Raquita and Justin, you were totally outvoted. Air kisses to Angela for the compliment; you’re lovely, too. We’ll have to compare notes on high school reunions. (I invented the Post-It!)

The profile, which you can see here, also asks for responses to a few interesting questions, for instance:

What has been your most “unique experience” since high school? (Besides marriage, kids, etc.)

I’ve been pondering possible answers. I could write:

A. Earning a Guinness Book World Record for creating the world’s largest bouquet of flowers at the Missouri Botanical Garden. (That was 1998, and 27,801 stems, for those of you playing the Marijean Jaggers trivia at-home game. The record was broken a few years later. For the record, it was fun, and a huge PR hit, but I’ll never do that again. I may break some other record, but I don’t anticipate creating a huge bouquet ever again.); or

B.  Hiking a portion of the Napali Coast on Kauai in Hawaii with my husband, kids and in-laws. (Also fun, and I’d do it again.); or

C. Graduating from college with my husband, entire family and five-year-old son in attendance. (I know this isn’t supposed to be about kids, marriage, etc. but I’m awfully proud of this accomplishment, given what most of my high school friends knew of me last was that after my freshman year of college, I didn’t return to school, got married and had a baby. For all they know, I never made it back on the college track.)

Vote for the best “unique experience” in the comments.

The second question is: If you could do it all over again, what would you change about high school?

What would you say?

What is it?

 No hints.

Story Thursday.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m approaching my 20th high school reunion. I need to supply a “now” photo.

Which do you think, hair up:

or hair down:

Last weekend, I noticed from my sunroom, there were three high school-aged boys fishing in the pond. I also noticed that there was one very near to the mother goose. He was taunting her, stomping a foot in her direction, trying to scare her off her nest. Now, you all know how I feel about this goose. I watched this kid a bit longer, then, much to the consternation of my husband, went marching off down to the pond to have a little chat.

I said, “Hey, don’t mess with the goose. She’s nested here for at least the past three years and when the father goose returns, if he catches you messing with her, he might attack. Geese can be pretty nasty. I’m just sayin’ — I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

The boy in question snarled, “I’m not messin’ with the goose.”

I turned around and walked slowly back up to the house. After I left, one of the other boys came over to stand by the goose and taunt it further. I watched. I waited. I had my cell phone in my hand, ready to dial whomever it is that arrests yahoos for messing with protected species.

The second boy was loudly complaining about my interference and shot a, “F*** y’all” in my direction. I found this both endearing and infurating at the same time. I’d never been addressed with that particular phrase. Ah, the south.

Eventually the boys tired of fighting mosquitos and catching nothing in our sad little pond (lord knows why they were fishing there, anyway when there’s a lake right next to it.)

The whole incident left me ever more watchful, and wishing ill will on a few rude boys. I wish I’d gotten a better look at them, or better yet, taken pictures. I’ll bet I run into them again around town.

My BFFs John and Mel announced recently that they are expecting their fourth daughter. We’re very excited for them! Our mutual friend Barry, childless, confirmed bachelor that he is, offered this nugget, “Well that’s good because girls are easier to raise than boys.”

At which point I FELL OFF MY CHAIR LAUGHING.