I have been a complete waste of the planet's resources today. I just have not been motivated to do a damn thing. I really thought I'd get out and work in the garden at least a bit but every time I went outside to do anything the heat and humidity were just so horribly oppressive that it felt as if the very air were pushing down on me and I couldn't begin to entertain the thought of putting on overalls and socks and shoes and going out there to pull weeds. Neither did I feel like taking on any projects inside although I sort of slid sideways into dealing with my purses.
I have spoken about my purse addiction before. No need to go into my theory of why I love bags and baskets and bowls so much (womb association) but take my word for it when I tell you that I have way, way too many purses. I'm not talking about hundreds or anything like that. I'm not the Imelda Marcos of purses. But I have too many and I am emotionally attached to some of them and the idea of getting rid of those is a bit wrenching but I find myself at a place where getting rid of the ones I do not feel such an attachment to seems not only doable but necessary. My children and some of my friends know that they can purse shop here anytime and I have given away some nice bags. I've also lent some, especially to Lis, but she always brings them back! What's up with THAT? Today in a purse that I'd lent her I found her driver's license snapped safely into a pocket and a guitar pick. I felt as if I had her essence in that little bag.
Anyway, I started cleaning up some of the purses, which they were all sorely in need of. Dusty and mildewed they were practically crying out for attention. And some of them are quite old. When eBay really got started, I soon realized that I could find some very, very fine bags there for a fraction of the cost of buying new. And so I did. I loved one Coach backpack so much that I ended up buying it in three different colors- black, brown, and red. I guess I've lent or given away the red one because I didn't see it today but I have the black and brown one and I cleaned them up, rubbing leather cleaner into them with a soft cloth. And then I moved on to the others, making decisions as I went as to which ones I was ready to donate, which ones I really wanted to give to people I love, which ones I can't bear to part with.
I always have had the idea that if I could just find the one perfect bag, I would not ever have to buy another. It would have to be the right shape, size, be comfortable to wear, and have a few pockets to keep things readily at hand. I do love a good backpack purse because it frees up my hands and I can wear it while I'm doing my shopping and not have to worry about it being purloined if I turn my back on it in the shopping cart.
Which has never happened to me but which is a sort of small neurotic fear of mine.
I guess the bag that has come closest to being perfect for me is the one up top there. I got that purse at Goodwill and I remember buying it. Vividly. It called to me and I joyfully answered the call. I've always called it the cargo shorts of purses because it is sturdy, utilitarian, and comfortable. It has no brand name in it, only a very small tag saying, "Made in Mexico".
Obviously a match made in heaven.
I have taken the bag with me to Mexico more than once. It has gone many, many places with me and despite all the use and milage on it, it is still absolutely perfect in that not one bit of the lining has torn or ripped or come unsewn, all of the hardware works like the day it was made, and despite the scratches and wear, the leather is still whole and intact. I retired it some years ago and I'm not even sure why. I probably bought another bag and in my new love blindness, I left that one to hang on a closet door where it's been for a very long time.
I picked it up today and cleaned out the inside, wiping down the nylon lining with Dr. Bronners (dilute! dilute!) and then I carefully and lovingly rubbed it with leather cleaner and behold! It lost its stiffness, it's mildew-green tint, and looks like it's supposed to look.
I am thinking I'm going to start using it again.
So that was a part of my day. I felt like a treasure hunter, going through the old bags, finding hair pins and lipsticks, mints, handkerchiefs, some solid perfume that I used to love to wear. Casswell-Massey's Elixer of Love, No. 1.
Unless one has been in a hurricane of powerful strength, say a category three or four, the experience is unimaginable. And until it passes, there is no way out. All of the things we think of as modern life are suddenly taken away and we huddle in the darkness and hope with all we have in us that our roofs and windows and walls will not be taken away too, with the winds, the fury, the scream of the storm as it dumps unbelievable amounts of rain on top of us, so much that we cannot see what might be going on in our own back yards if we have the foolish bravery to go to a window and look out. Everything that has seemed so important to us is suddenly shown to be nothing compared to the ability to continue breathing, to continue to live, to protect ourselves and our loved ones.
...IDA RAPIDLY STRENGTHENING OVER THE GULF OF MEXICO... ...LIFE-THREATENING STORM SURGE, POTENTIALLY CATASTROPHIC WIND DAMAGE, AND FLOODING RAINFALL EXPECTED TO IMPACT THE NORTHERN GULF COAST BEGINNING SUNDAY...