Purse Tales And Hippie Magic

I may have spoken before about my deep passion for leather purses. 
At least a hundred times. 
I do not know how I developed this passion but I do remember my first really good leather purse. It must have been around 1983 or so because I was in nursing school and one of my main forms of entertainment was to go to Gayfer's and wander through their immense purse selection, spending more time than was probably healthy stroking, caressing, and lusting after the expensive ones. The ones whose leather felt like butter and smelled like...leather. The ones with good hardware, sturdy, functional, and never gaudy or overly large. 
And then, one day I bought one. 
It was a Stone Mountain bag and after just having checked to see if the company is still in business, I see that it is but it does not appear to be making or selling the semi-luxury bags it was back in the eighties. I mean, we're not talking Chanel bags here. But- you know, they cost enough to scare me off for a very long time. I wonder if they went on sale and that spurred me into buying one? 
I don't know but I do know that I loved that bag with all of my heart. I can't stand fussy bags and would never buy one. I like bags that might not look out of place being carried by a woman a thousand years ago. Or a man. Bags to carry seeds in or messages sent to far-away places or medications or herbs or both of those. Bags that were made to be absolutely utilitarian and were absolutely made of animal hide. 

That Stone Mountain bag is very long gone and I have probably owned a hundred different bags since I bought that one. Some of them a bit pricey, some of them bought at thrift stores and so not pricey, some of them just regular middle-of-the road quality that served my needs well. I can remember many of my favorite bags. Bags that really meant something to me in that they brought me a great deal of pleasure. 

At some point, I became a little obsessed with Coach leather bags. We are not talking about fabric Coach bags with their damn signature design on them. I would not even think about owning one of those. 

So sorry, Coach, but I'm speaking my truth. 

No. I fell in love with the bags made of sturdy leather with simple designs. The ones that you buy as an investment. The ones that will stand up to the test of time. 

And then they put out a design they called the Hippie Flap Bag and that was it, I wanted it, I needed it, I absolutely had to fucking have it. I believe we are in the later 90's by now. I am not certain. 
There were two sizes of the Hippie Flap Bag and it was the smaller one I yearned for. And I wanted it in red. And that is what Mr. Moon got me for Christmas that year and I loved that purse with all of my heart. 
I still do. I still have it and yes, it's in great shape. The leather could use better conditioning than what I can give it but it is absolutely as sturdy as it was the Christmas day I unwrapped it. 
However.
Because there is no such thing as the perfect purse any more than there is such thing as the perfect human being, I discovered that it was, for my uses, small. 
Too small. 
So I used it on Glen's and my Friday date nights when I didn't need to carry everything from baggies of Cheerios to pacifiers to spit-up rags and spare diapers to emergency supplies for unexpected childhood accidents. It was perfect for those dates. 
Eventually though, we quit doing the going out on Friday night thing and the red purse got hung on the rack in the guest room where I keep the purses I cannot bear to get rid of. 

And what in hell does any of this have to do with today, December 4th, 2025? 
Well, I'll tell you.

When it was just my neck that was fucked up, it occurred to me that perhaps my backpack purse which I kept pretty full, might be contributing to the problem. Now, in the many decades I have used a backpack purse, that's never been a problem but hell- it could not hurt to lighten that load, right? 
So I took the red hippie purse off the peg from which it was hanging and I emptied out my backpack bag of all the things I carry in it. I whittled down those things until they would all fit into my beloved red hippie bag, including my emergency Benadry and Ibuprofen and Ativan, bandaids, keys, an emory board, a handkerchief- don't laugh!, and my pocket knife. Also some Chapstick, mints, gum, and a few pens. And that's about it. I can easily fit all those things in there plus my phone and my ear pod charging/storage case. 
I am actually amazed. 
I have a theory that purses are portals into another dimension where things cross over into and then, when you are absolutely certain they are gone forever, cross back over to appear. Trust me. This happens. I lost an entire lid of pot once in a purse I was carrying, only to discover it was back weeks later. Because they are portals, they have abilities which science does not yet have an explanation for, such as abilities to hold more than you'd think they would and inabilities to hold as much as you'd think they would. 
This is the magic of leather bags. Or something. 

Bottom line- I am thrilled to be carrying my very small bag around. I would love to use it until the leather is softened by years of use.

We shall see. 

It has been as gray as the ceiling of a quonset hut today, spitting rain now and then, and also very, very chilly. Again with the wet cold. Now it is actually raining. Not a downpour, but a good steady drizzle. This is supposed to continue through the weekend and on to Monday. We need this so much. The rain, not the cold. But I'll take whatever comes with the rain. 

I ordered and paid for my hearing aids today. So did Mr. Moon. We have back-to-back appointments on Saturday to have them fitted and what all else needs to be done. I've downloaded the app which I can use to control the aids on my phone. You get a remote control too but remotes get lost, phones not quite as much, plus most of us have them with us every moment of the day. 
This is all so crazy. The folks at the Costco hearing clinic that I've come into contact with are so nice, so obviously used to working with older people, and who make the whole experience so much better than it could be. I got to see Andrew again today and he and the woman whose name was JaLisa who helped both me and Glen, have made what could have been an uncomfortable and daunting experience into a very comfortable and down-to-earth situation. Dare I say that I feel almost an affection for these two people? 

The oddest thing happened to me while I was finishing up my transaction at the counter of the hearing clinic with JaLisa, Andrew came from behind that counter to go on break or something. I'm not sure. He stopped for a moment to add a few comments to the running commentary the three of us had been having, mostly about him, and I had the distinct feeling that when he passed behind me, he was going to hug me like one of my children would. 
I knew that would not happen and it didn't. 
But he did grasp my shoulder briefly yet firmly and gave it a squeeze as he strode off and I felt as if I'd had a premonition which is just another thing that science does not yet have the explanation for. It was a feeling I can't really describe except to say that my premonition had been so strong that his actual touch on my shoulder felt preordained and THAT was shocking. 

And who knows? Maybe it's all only the power of the red Hippie Flap Bag which I had strapped over that shoulder. 

Which makes me think about this song, written by the hugely talented  John Sebastian and performed by his band, The Loving Spoonful. 

Sigh and sigh again. 

Love...Ms. Moon