My life is weird.

Sometimes, I wonder if strange things happen as often to others as they seem to happen to me. Not strange in a spooky, ominous kind of way. Not in a mysterious, cryptic kind of way. I'm thinking more along the lines of random, bizarre, and, oftentimes, hilarious.

One such episode was at the hospice inpatient unit where I've volunteered this summer. I was on my way out for the last time, saying goodbye to the nurses, telling them that I'm going abroad to study in Israel for a year. One of them said, "You know, there are Orthodox Jews in room 207."

I hadn't recognized any of the names on the chart when I signed in, and in a town as small as mine, you just know all of the other observant Jews. But the nurse seemed sure, so she led me to the room and introduced me to the family of the patient. One of the women came outside the room to talk to me (the patient was sleeping).

"Oh, no, we're not Orthodox Jews. We're Greek Orthodox Christians," she said, crossing herself. "Very devout Christians."

Oops.

Well, we had a nice chat about the origins of Catholicism and the definition of "orthodox" as we rounded the IPU back to the concierge desk where the nurses were. They looked embarrassed at the mix-up, but I thought it was more hilarious than anything.

I told the woman that I was going to study in Israel, and she wished me a "blessed trip."

I hope that our meeting brightened her day, because it certainly made mine. She reminded me of Michelle Duggar, the mom on the TLC show "Nineteen Kids and Counting." Same soft voice, same wide-eyed expression, same warm demeanor.

Honestly, I have enormous respect for people of any religion who are devout, who lead their lives in service of G-d however they see fit. Whenever I see Muslim women in a hijab or an Amish family with their unique way of dressing, I feel connected to them, almost like we share a secret. All of us are willing to stand out and set ourselves apart because of what we believe. All of us know what it's like to be different, and dare nevertheless.

In another, unrelated incident, I discovered that my Zumba teacher leads High Holiday services at a local Reform temple. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I've been taking Zumba all summer through the YMCA, and there's a certain instructor whom everyone adores. He's attracted a loyal following through his outgoing nature and routines that are so much fun that you forget you're working out.

Since I'm leaving for Israel before his next class, I hung back after Beyonce's final glory note to thank him one last time. I tend to get really shy around people I perceive as superior - rabbis, teachers, and yes, even Zumba instructors - but I'm glad I worked up the guts to talk to him because it makes for a great blog post.

I told him how much I'd enjoyed his class over the summer and of my plans to study abroad. He asked where I was going, and I said Israel.

"Are you Jewish?" he asked me.

"Yeah," I said.

"I thought so, 'cuz I saw you once with a guy wearing a...(points at his head)...yarmulke? And I was raised Catholic, but I just find it fascinating. So that's why you wear..."

He gestured to my outfit - a long-sleeved shirt with long pants under a wide stretchy skirt.

"Yup," I replied, "And that guy you saw was probably my brother."

He apologized for asking personal questions, but I assured him I don't mind. I'd rather people just come out and ask me about what I do, actually. It's not like I'm trying to hide it, and I don't proselytize (not a Jewish thing).

It's fascinating to see myself through another person's eyes. I'm so accustomed to my practices that I forget that they're not normal, that some people have never met someone like me. Sometimes, it even makes me take a step back and think about why I do what I do and believe what I believe, and gives me a fresh appreciation for the quirks of being an observant Jew.

Anyway, he told me that he has a "gig" leading High Holiday services at a local reform temple. I maintained an expression of polite interest, but my mental reaction went something like, "NO. WAY. As if my life could not get any WEIRDER..."

I was so busy absorbing this blast of information that I attempted to push the gym doors open. Yeah...the kind you have to pull. Either he didn't notice, or he's just as good at maintaining an expression of polite interest. I'm sticking with the former.

I don't claim to know why these things happen to me, but I'd venture a guess and say that G-d likes to keep my life interesting and full of surprises. Not in a Paranormal Activity kind of way. Not in a Da Vinci Code kind of way. No, I'm thinking more along the lines of Napoleon Dynamite.

P.S. When recounting the conversation with my Zumba instructor to my mother, she informed me of a recent article she'd read featuring the synagogue he'd named...in which a dog celebrated a bar mitzvah. I guess I'm not the only one who's barking mad.