The Flower Girl
You know how sometimes you get a gift and it’s exactly what you didn’t know you wanted? Well, that happened to me this past week.
First, I should probably set the stage by telling you that I am a human raffle repellent. In thirty-plus years of being in various positions to possibly win something (anything) by having my name/ticket/whatever drawn, I never ever win, and nor do the people on either side of me. I magically repel whatever electrons are involved in random chance. It’s a scientific fact.
Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, I left a comment on the fabulous Jeannie Moon’s blog (her debut launches this week, so totes click through and check her out!), discussing how much I adore hot pink zebra duct tape. (Incidentally, I received my first roll as part of a zombiepocalypse-survival-kit-style wedding present. I found this hilarious.) Imagine my surprise when Jeannie emailed me to say that I had won a wristlet! I wasn’t really sure what a wristlet might be, but who cared? I won something!
I decided to invest in some Powerball tickets, thinking this had to be a sign that my luck had changed for the better. Then I got busy and forgot to buy those tickets. In fact, I forgot about having won the blog prize, too, until it showed up the other day. With Arizona watching over my shoulder, I dug into the box, with its pretty tissue paper, handwritten note and tasteful promo items (thinking I should really up my own giveaway game from 'signed book in a mailing envelope'), and saying, “That’s right! I won a … something.”
I pulled it out. And I was charmed.
It was a Vera Bradley wallet-clutch-thingie (I guess that’s what ‘wristlet’ means?) made of quilted cloth with pretty flowers on it. And I, who have used the same brown leather Coach wallet since the late 90s, immediately transferred my entire life into this new cuteness.
Now, in a related story, I’ve been sneaking up on the idea of a new purse lately. This is a Big Deal for me, as I’ve had exactly three, all Coach, since my thirteenth birthday when my aunt gave me my first. (She was a Secret Service Agent—one of the first female agents, in fact—and it was too small for her Glock.) These things are heavy duty, look good when they’re beat up, and last forever.
I’ve been stalling on the new bag, though, because … well, I didn’t know why. At first it was because they’re not cheap and the old one really doesn’t look that bad. Then I made a deal with myself: lose ten pounds, and you can have the bag. (Yeah, that didn't happen.) Or finish the new manuscript ahead of deadline. (Ditto.) But as I looked at my new wallet-thingie, I got to thinking that maybe it wasn’t the cost. Maybe I’m just not a black leather girl anymore. Maybe these days, I’m soft cotton and flowers.
Me in my black leather phase, circa 2006.
Me today (well, last summer, but close enough).
One of the many things I love about writing the Mustang Ridge books is the idea of metamorphosis. Whether it's a busy surgeon who spends a week at the ranch and learns that its time for him to make room for love, or the ranch’s head wrangler coming out of his gruff shell to help a little girl get over her fears, the men and women of Mustang Ridge are always growing and changing. I guess I am, too. And you know what? I think I like being a flower girl these days. Maybe I’ll even buy a colorful bag to go with my flowery wallet thingie. And I’ll definitely keep those flowers in mind when I write today.
So tell me, have you ever had one of those moments when you realized that something you’ve always owned or done doesn’t really work for you anymore? Or had that perfect gift show up, one that you didn’t have any clue you needed? I’d love to hear about it!