For Mother's Day, my family gave me a beautiful brand new handbag with a matching wallet.
It's big, roomy and sturdy because I never leave the house without at least 2 books I'm trying to read, ibuprofen, hand lotion, Febreze, Cortaid spray, hand sanitizer, a deck of playing cards (who knows when you may end up out somewhere and bored to tears?) and other miscellaneous odds and ends. It smells like brand spanking new leather. Take a look for yourself, what's not to like?
Now for my confession, I'm kind of missing my $10 Tinkerbell bag that I've been carrying around for the past two years, every since we went to Disney World.
It is raggedy and the seams are busted; one of the straps is held on with a safety pin; all of Tinkerbell's fairy dust is dull and cracked and her sequins have been gone so long I don't remember what they used to look like. This bag has seen better days, but I just can't trash it.
I think I'm going to gently lay her in a box, wrap her in tissue paper and save her in the back of my closet. Every now and then, when I'm feeling a little nostalgic, I can pull her out and give her a brief hug when no one else is looking, because they've already labeled me certifiably insane and I can't afford to give them any more ammunition.
Rest in Peace, Tinkerbell purse. I'll miss you.
Until next time . . .