I kinda feel like I should apologize for writing, yet another, unicorn post. But, as I recall, I totally warned you way back in one of my first posts that they’re kind of my thing. So I’m not apologizing. In fact, saying “I’m sorry” for stupid things is something I’m really trying to break. So instead I’m going to say, “Ta-da! Second unicorn post in two days! You are so freaking welcome!” because you are getting to share in the magic that is my newest unicorn, Fluffy. You might recognize her from her movie stardom, but let me assure you she is very down to earth and loves her fans. I’m getting ahead of myself a bit. Let me rewind and tell you how Fluffy came to be mine.
My best friend, Amy, (and yes, you’re hearing about her awesomeness again…you’re welcome) and I had a girls’ day in Estes Park today. We seriously waited for what seemed like FOR.EV.ER for this group of children to move away from the stuffed animal shelves in Granny Gingham’s (yes that’s a real name of a store). I seriously think they knew I was nearly salivating over this shelf chock full of unicorns and they just refused to move over! Manners, children! Please move away from the toys so the middle-aged women can see them! Gah! When they finally moved, I raced over to the shelf only to be totally disappointed. The super fluffy one I was eyeballing was stiff and had creepy eyes and a long torso like a wiener dog. I wanted to love her, but she just had too much going on for me to look past. The other ones looked smug and upright and like they really just didn’t want to be there, which is rude, and not very unicornesque! So I had resigned myself to fact that I was leaving unicornless. But as we were leaving the store, I spied Fluffy, with her crazy eyes and tongue sticking out! Amy asked if she could look at her for a second, so I handed my new friend to her. At this point, Amy sprinted (in her very ladylike Amy way) in the opposite direction with her! “Stop! Unicornapper!” I heard myself scream in my mind. But I soon realized that Amy was whisking my dear Fluffy away to the cash register to buy her for me. Amy is pretty great like that. She doesn’t even question why, at 48, I need to believe in unicorns and rainbows. She knows my whole story and this woman celebrates the fact that the clouds of depression have lifted for me like it’s my birthday, and Christmas, and the Fourth of July. She was even okay with me letting Fluffy ride in my purse peeking out over the edge (so she could breathe, of course) and taking in all the sights that Estes had to offer. Fluffy got a lot of attention, especially from children, but she didn’t let it go to her head at all. A few adults gave her some weird glances, but I think they were just jealous that either they didn’t have a unicorn in their purse or they didn’t have an Amy in their life. Either way, we didn’t let it bring us down.
I adore Fluffy to bits already but realized that now that she’s mine, she actually might be taking on some of my traits…like sugar addiction. Amy and I stopped to get ice cream and we each bought ginormous tubs of toffee for our husbands. We were not given bags for our purchase, presumably because we maybe looked like these tubs of toffee were going to be our main course after our ice cream appetizers? Anyway, I placed the tub in my giant dark cave of a purse and soon realized Fluffy had gone spelunking into the depths. The tub had been slightly opened, probably by her crafty little hooves, and she had a bit of chocolate on her cheek (and on her butt, which makes no sense). I could hardly scold her. I would’ve done the very same thing if you placed me in a cave with toffee on the bottom. When I got her home, I went to get the Shout to clean her up and something made me stop. I left the little dab of chocolate on her cute, fuzzy little cheek because it will always remind me of this day that I got to spend celebrating that my life is filled with so many happy things these days including an amazing best friend and a unicorn who loves toffee.