It's a purse. A handbag. A pocketbook. When you have young children, it is more likely a tote or a diaper bag with your wallet and keys among the diapers and toys and seven changes of clothes (including a fresh shirt for you). I once had a vet ask me how old my baby was. How did you know I had kids? I asked, and he pointed to the Nuk I was wearing as a ring.
It is chaos. Oh, there are a few amongst us who do not use a purse as a survival kit. Look in the purse of most women and you will find her life story, at least one piece of candy, meds, tissues, pens, make-up and a sewing kit. On a bad day I will also have double-sided tape, a paperback, Tums, a screwdriver, three washers and a bottle of Kahlua, a Magic Marker, six Do-Its and slightly stale gum.
Her income (the checkbook), where she had lunch or bought that white filigree necklace (the receipts--and please don't tell me you were just admiring the necklace, mister!), her age (driver license), how much is real and how much is Maybelline and a whole host of other information resides in that purse.
She will try to stuff in the camera, hairbrush, tissues and a cell phone in a tiny evening bag. When it doesn't fit, she will turn her beau's pockets into an extension. If she carries a big bag, her mate makes it an extension of his pockets--honey, put my cigarettes in your purse, OK? and an extra hanky, my lighter and the table saw I bought at Sears.....
My purse is black inside, as is my wallet, my cell and my camera case. The floor mats in my Chevy are also black. So when the purse that I have been rummaging in to find the black phone in the black purse lands on the black floor on the way from the Y....well, my car becomes a giant black hole of a purse on wheels. Can't find a thing.
Between my purse and my car I can survive a blizzard in Colorado for a week. I carry water and a snack or two or three, plus I usually carry my lunch. I have a blanket, jumper cables and dry socks. I am not without a flashlight and a rain poncho. In winter I carry those shake-up hand warmers. There is enough junk for a bonfire, tissues for my nose and my meds in my purse. There is at least one book, a legal pad, phone charger and a take-out directory. I should get a shovel, I suppose. Of course, I can't have passengers.....
I can't fathom spending a thousand dollars on a purse, maybe twelve-fifty--on sale. I want something practical and basic, not like the little silver number I thought was chic until I put two dollars inside and it was full. I want one so big it aggravates the bursitis, so heavy that my Hubby asks, "What the #$%^ do you have in there?" and such a long strap that I can use it as a weapon if need-be.
NEVER, EVER violate a woman by getting into her purse without--or even with--permission. Her purse is sacred, a private place like a secret garden. Trust me, nothing bugs her as much as having you hunt through it for a quarter to use at the car wash.
There are days I do without a purse, like I never carry one anymore when I shop, just stuff the phone, money, debit card and ID in my pockets. I don't carry one when I work, I shove it all in my briefcase. I had one for my trip to Vegas. I guess I could have used a fanny-pack, but they're so darn ugly.
I swear my next purse will not hold a single zipper bag full of cosmetics. It will have no more than two pens, one small packet of tissue, a few ibuprofen in a classy little pill box and maybe a lipstick. The wallet, of course, and my cell phone...a bottle of water...Tums...a first-aid kit...a paperback..one notepad and my checkbook...a calendar, change for the parking meter and a couple of ones for tips...safety pins...and a bottle of Kahlua.
Ready to go, Honey.
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