placebo

my alleged magic scarf

My husband got me this scarf over a year ago in the gift shop at Cracker Barrel. I’m not an accessory kinda girl. As a matter of fact, even just wearing a ring or lip-gloss makes me feel like I’m painting the peacock, not because I’m just too pretty on my own, but because I prefer to be uninhibited by arbitrary add-ons.

For real. When I was little, my aunt was putting press-on nails on and I asked her to let me wear some. After some mass amount of begging and pleading, she agreed to put some cheap dollar store nails on me. Not even an hour later, I realized I couldn’t get my Barbie’s dress fastened as easily with my new sparkly claws on. So I popped them suckers off and never looked back.

Back to the scarf. If you know anything about me, you know I love anything remotely nautical. When my husband brought me this scarf home, I felt a little torn, but hung it on a hook in my writing room and decided I’d probably never wear it, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t still admire it just the same. My pretty, patriotic-colored gift stayed on the hook ever since, well, up until a few weeks ago.

For the record, when I pulled the scarf down and took it off the hook declaring to one and all, this magic scarf will help me write the most amazing story, I was just being my usual, make something out of nothing, find something to smile about, throw a parade in the middle of a rain shower, wanna play license plate bingo? self. The funniest thing happened this morning, though, when I wrapped my magic mermaid scarf around my neck and sat down at my laptop to write.

(Drumroll please?!)

I wrote.

Given, this blog post isn’t exactly the great American novel, but it’s sure to warm me up for some pretty incredible creating later on this morning. Guess we’ll see. Either way, at least my neck isn’t cold.

Happy Thursday.

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