Wrangler Dani

Writer, editor, wife, adoptive mama and cowgirl living in beautiful Central Oregon.

OMG, y’all. Today has been like a very mean female dog. With spittle flying.

So this morning I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, I guess, although I don’t see how that’s possible now that I share one and we definitely have sides and we snuggle and everything. Now everybody’s puking.  Anyways.

This morning I was having a hard time getting anything done, feeling kindof frantic, wondering if I was making the right choices, blankly staring at blog stats and all the other productive things that other brilliant young self-employed writers do, and I decided, “get it together, girl. Go to Important Marketing Job and get some wind in your sails”. Brilliant idea, Self.

Except that when I got to Important Marketing Job, IMJBoss was yelling at IMJSon, which would have been kinda OK if I wasn’t there, you know, trying to act normal and work and stuff.

So I decided to go to Yoga. Chakra-centering! Calming! Exercise! Sweat! All things I desperately need in my life. TO YOGA I GO. I got there early and proceeded to lay out my mat and stretch and pray and start feeling all centered and Elizabeth Gilbert-y. Enter Stage Left: Barbie and NotQuiteBoyfriend (I could tell because of all the flexing going on). Barbie is nervous and has never done this before. It took me several minutes to catch on to this concept because she only squeaked it out every 20 seconds. They lay out their mats RIGHT NEXT TO ME, and proceed to dumbly flirt with each other for the next ten minutes. Now I’m not only less happy, I’m a lot stupider. Thanks, Universe.

Anyhoodle, we do yoga. Since nobopdy is allowed to talk during class, some of my brain power slowly returns. ” I know!” I think brilliantly, “I’ll treat myself to a smoothie. And I’ll take one to the Hubs. What a good wifey! AND I HAVE A COUPON! Hello, genius.”

Thoroughly thrilled with my genius plan, I head over to El Place of Highly Caloric but Supposedly Healthy Fruity Drinks. The place is packed with teenagers. I am old, and therefore Not Cool, therefore nonexistent. I try to make friends. I get sortof upset within myself. Nothing works. I leave hours later with two hard-won smoothies. Also, my eyes are permanently locked in “roll” position.

From there it got better. I parked under a tree and talked to the Hubs and he made me laugh about my absurdly bad day. Than I went home and showered and wrote this and am off to see Eat Pray Love with my gals. Could be worse, right? Wait. Don’t answer that.

Quit spitting on me, Today, you jerk.

2 comments found

  1. YOU are an excellent blogger. And a wonderful human being. And OH SO PRETTY.

    I promise never to steal mail from you and withhold it for four years ever again.

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