Blogging in the Bathtub...

Blogging in the Bathtub…


         Before you judge - let me just say, I am a busy girl.  Five sons, handsome husband, full time job…trying to get a book published – you know the type.  Some ideas, like listening to a good audio book while driving the kids to school or balancing the checkbook while the husband drives us around on Sunday, are good ideas - time saving ideas even. 

         Then there are my more hair brained and dangerous ideas like doing deep knee bends while brushing my teeth or drying my hair, trying to read a book while jogging on the treadmill or blogging in the bathtub with an expensive piece of technology.  It doesn’t help that I am not the most coordinated person on the planet. 

         I was once carrying an armful of carefully organized papers tucked neatly inside manila folders from my home office to my front door and tripped over the snoring bulldog that I love – falling flat on my face scattering papers and folders everywhere.  I just lay there – and then started laughing.  After my husband stopped laughing – he told me that move was called a yardsale and I had effectively completed one of the best ones he had ever seen.

           Which brings me to Kirin -my beautiful, good hearted, yet broken main character with a knack for being supernaturally clumsy.    Read below an excerpt from The Unraveling of Kirin Lane – where her clumsiness catapults her into trouble, yet again.


         (Kirin has just entered her late father’s office building to retrieve a mysterious item from his secretary.)

         I texted Rosa, “How’s it going? Finished w/ funeral, heading to airport in just a few.  Miss you guys.”  Then I locked my phone and dropped it back into my purse, as I strolled over to the directory to find the correct floor.  The board read:

            ‘Michael “Sonny” Terhune & Associates – 13th Floor’

            To be such an important man and to have his own floor of this building, I was a little bewildered that there weren’t more people at his funeral.   There were only a few members of his family that I recognized; everyone else introduced themselves as “an associate” of my father’s.   

            I wandered into the elevator contemplating this, pulling out my phone, checking my texts, and of course not paying attention to my surroundings.  Without warning, my treacherous right shoe caught the threshold of the elevator and launched me head first into the elevator where I landed on a tall hooded guy in the corner. 

         Out of instinct, he caught me around the waist and stood me upright but seemed aggravated and let out a loud “huff.”  Under his navy hood, I could only make out a chiseled jaw and angry dark eyes.  Being fair skinned, my cheeks felt immediately hot and I was sure my face turned eight shades of red.  I mumbled a feeble “I’m sorry” to him and quickly turned around, staring down at the floor.  I felt so self-conscious, as if everyone was staring at the back of my head.  I glared down at my extremely cute but hazardous shoes as if they could understand how angry I was with them, as the shiny elevator door closed. 

            In the hazy reflection of the elevator doors, I could see only five people aboard this elevator, but the tension was so thick it appeared completely full.  There was a heavy-set, red-headed woman who looked to be in her sixties standing next to me, the young hooded guy who I accidentally almost tackled standing directly behind me, and two dark- haired giggling twenty-some-things in the opposite corner.  I could see the gigglers out of the corner of my eye, and they kept smiling and giggling my way. 

            I cut my eyes quickly toward them and back toward the elevator doors.  

           Really, are they laughing at me

           Because of my epic fail entering the elevator or do I have food on my face?

            If I had been with my boys, I could have forgiven the laughter because I always had some sort of foreign item smudged on my shirt or on my face when I had them in tow.  But apart from my hair, which I was sure was windblown and looked like Medusa’s little sister, I thought that I looked decent when I headed out this morning, maybe even nice. 

            Feeling even more self-conscious, I raised my hand to flatten out my hair and quickly glanced back at the giggle twins again.  They were still staring at me and smiling as the elevator door opened on the 4th floor and the older lady sauntered off.  Great.  Now it was just me, the angry guy in the sweatshirt and the two gigglers. 

             One of the smiling nitwits said “Hello” in a very seductive way.  I continued looking forward and rolled my eyes at the elevator door; just as I was about to reluctantly say hello back I heard the guy behind me huff out a curt, “Hello.”

            Aha! I let out a small sigh.  I got it, they were smiling at him

            They were just flirting with this guy. I was so relieved I had nothing on my face. 

            My confidence level came back out of hiding and I stood up a little straighter.  But now, I was acutely aware that this guy was standing very close behind me, almost like he was shielding himself from them.  It felt like he was scared of these two 110 pound girls.

            I cut my eyes and tried to glance back his way, but still couldn’t make out his face at all.  He was staring at the floor with the navy hood pulled way down covering most of his face, and his hands angrily shoved in his pockets.  Just then the elevator dinged for the 7th floor, and the two girls got out and said in sing-song unison, “Bye -eye.

            This time I was smart enough not to answer, knowing that it wasn’t meant for me.  Mr. Grouch behind me let out another angry huff of air and moved quickly away from me over to the other side of the elevator. 

            Maybe this city was bad for his attitude too.  He seemed grouchier than I was this morning.  The doors closed again and I snuck another sideways peek at him, but because he had shifted his whole body toward the wall away from me, I could only see his muscular back.  He was much taller than me, with broad, defined shoulders that the thin hoodie didn’t hide.  His cologne had an old world scent, much like an older man, but from what I could see he looked like a large teenager. His bright white expensive shoes and glimmering diamond watch meant he was probably a rich LA kid.

            Just then, the elevator lurched and threw me, my phone, my bags and the hooded guy to the floor…


            Who was he?  The young girls seemed to know.  And what was the mysterious item that her father left her?  Right after this scene, she came face to face with the angry young man and later found that her heart just might have opened back up a crack… and then came a jolt that would change her life and her views forever.   You will have to wait to find out….

Until next time…




Kelley Griffin1 Comment