The Things I Carry

First, yet another word about Twitter. Today, two people whose diaries I read for a long time and lost track of somehow found me and we are "following" each other. Twitter is cool. (And addictive. And easy to do from work, since it takes a minute.) Enough of Twitter.

Bluesleepy challenged us today to show what's in our purses, and wrote about about the sanctity (or not) of one's purse. I'm not carrying a purse these days, since I usually prefer to stuff my jeans pockets (although I do love the Vera Bradley bags.) Here's what I had in my pockets today:



Lest you think that I wear some kind of magic jeans, let me explain that the IceBreakers were in my jacket pocket, the left, and my keyring (which I forgot to put in the picture) lives in my right jacket pocket. The other items are:

-- my phone, which resides in my left front pocket
-- Burt's Bees lip balm and eye drops, in my right front pocket. I also forgot to put in the picture my little four-compartment pill box, which holds my Crohn's pills, and goes into my right front pocket after lunch. (It was in my lunch bag until then.)
-- the silver rectangular thing is the Palm case, with the Palm inside. Because the case is smooth, I put a rubber band around it lengthwise before I put it in my left rear pocket, to keep it from sliding out.
-- my wallet, which always goes in my right rear pocket. This looks like a Vera Bradley-type wallet, but there are actually hidden Mickeys in the design; I got the wallet in DisneyWorld. I would never buy a pink wallet -- or almost anything in pink -- except the hidden Mickey wallet was so cute, and didn't come in any other color.

That's it. A tour of the inside of my wallet would take twice as long, but maybe I'll share that with you another time.

As to the sanctity of one's purse, well. If there was any rule in the house I grew up in, a rule that was never violated by anyone, it was No one touches Shirl's purse but Shirl. No one was ever given permission to do so, either; she would ask us to bring her the purse, but never allowed anyone else to open it or get anything from it. And it would feel just as strange to me to tell one of my kids Open my bag (if I were using one that day) and get me ... And I would never go in theirs. (Although I admit I have dropped things into their open bags, like mail R kept forgetting to take home, or sometimes money.) I don't know why Shirl was so crazed on the subject, but to me it's a respect thing, never open someone else's purse. (Or their mail. I was also raised never to open anything, even junk mail, with someone else's name on it.)

WATCHING THE SIMPSONS :: ENTRY #1712