- Kymberlie ~ WriterOfTheStorm.com
- Kymberlie Ingalls is native to the Bay Area in California. She is a pioneer in blogging, having self-published online since 1997. Her style is loose, experimental, and a journey in stream of consciousness. Works include personal essay, prose, short fictional stories, and a memoir in progress. Thank you for taking a moment of your time to visit. Beware of the occasional falling opinions. For editing services: http://www.rainfallpress.com/
Thursday, January 27, 2011
'Round The World And Back Again...
Wow, what a day..
Started off just fine. My mojo was chugging right along – woke up, showered, the hubby even remembered to turn the shower head so it wouldn’t blast me in the face. In any marriage, isn’t it the little things that make a big difference? So, there I was, all sparkly clean and feeling groovy. Knocked out a post on this blog you’re reading. Headed out the door to a beautiful, breezy day for lunch with one of my favorite people.
Now I’m on the freeway, traffic is good, tunes are blaring, the wind is rushing in to cool my face and ruffle my hair, giving the windblown, sun-kissed model look to an already decent hair day. Lunch was ordinary but yummy all the same. We headed over to a nearby shop and made good use of our female shopping genes.
Then I’m back in the car and ready to head for home. Hip is hurting but I’m dealing with it. Before I pull away, I check for emails on my handy dandy mobile device.
How is it that just one jackwad can ruin an entire day? I know, I know. “Only if you let them!” you’re saying in your head, thinking I’ll hear you over the internet if you think it loud enough. Bullshit. I didn’t let him. He did it all on his own, sent out his email full of crap, and wrecked my day. I mean, I could try and ignore it, but it’s just not me. The whole way home it rattled around in my head, chasing my mojo in a silly little circle until it jumped out with a BOO.
But, the good news is, I’m not going to sit around feeling like a punching bag. I’ll take my fall, dust myself off and crank the stereo back up. Sooner or later, someone will ease my bruises. Someone will sing to my soul. Much like a Vegas high roller, the odds are in my favor.
“Oh, she may be weary. Young girls they do get weary… all you gotta do is try .. try.. a little tenderness…”