So, this is kind of weird. Or maybe it’s not. You be the judge.

About four or so years ago, having just gone through some major emotional housecleaning and personal inventory, I went with a friend to a small local street fair in the Inglewood neighborhood on Nashville’s east side. There, on a whim, I picked up a random piece of folk art from an artist in one of the booths. It was painted on a somewhat large piece of plywood, which I later had cut to outline the subject.

I can’t tell you what drew me to the piece, which was a bit rough and crude. But I noticed it when we first walked in and my mind kept going back to it. I started to leave without it, after we had made our way through all of the booths at the fair, but ultimately went back and bought it. It didn’t have a name, but in my mind I called the piece “Golden Girl”.

I never really found a home for it, and once I moved in with my now husband, Golden Girl ended up relegated to a partially finished basement and basically forgotten … one of those impulse buys likely destined for a future garage sale.

Recently, in connection with some home improvements we are doing, the piece was unearthed. But I hadn’t taken a good look at it for a few years, until today.

It’s kind of amazing really.

It features a woman in a yellow dress, who is inexplicably and totally bald.

And she is holding in her hands a clock on which a number is painted at each quarter hour mark.

The number at each quarter hour is 3.

The number that is, if you’ve followed our story, a recurring theme for us … a magic number.

I don’t know what it means, if anything. But there you have it. A wee reminder of universal magic on a Sunday morning.

I’ll take it anywhere I can get it.

And Golden Girl? I think I’ll keep her.

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