The Curse of the Purse

...dedicated to TIFFANY D- my beloved book club sista, deputy "FFF" possee leader, and Quaint Duchess of Stockbridge and loyal LL reader...

I've never thought of myself as a "pocketbook" type of girl.

I like that word "pocketbook" though.

It brings back memories of the seventies, when I was a little Oldgirl. I'd be getting ready to walk out the front screen door, headed for Sunday School and church with my grandmother, and Grandmother would say:

"Don't forget your pocketbook, Lisa!"

I would scurry back in the house and get it.

Couldn't go to church without my pocketbook.

It was usually some patent leather black or white get-up, small with a bright gold clasp, just big enough for some tissue, peppermint candy, and change for the offering plate. And it always had a couple of scuff marks. I imagine that I was clutching it close, much like my book club sista Kim's niece Kyla clutches her blue and black patent leather original.

Kyla is particularly proud of hers. She's not even concerned that her purse does not match her outfit. That grin on her face tells the whole story.

But these days, some thirty years later, I throw my belongings in my laptop carry-on case. I always carry that. It's simply too much to carry a purse and a laptop case.

No need for the all too essential "pocketbook" anymore.

That is why I am a bit confused about my feenin' for a purse, so much so that I blogged about it a couple of weeks ago (see LadyLee Feenin')

My coworker T owns this beloved Coach Signature Carly Large leather purse.


She comes to work in the mornings and sits the Carly on her desk.

It's like the purse be calling me, man! Just calling out to me!

"LadyLee... LadyLee... I am here! Come touch me! Come feel me! LadyLeeeeee! Hurrrrry!"

I casually walk over to her cubicle, just a few feet from my own, and ask the question of the day:

"Can I hold it, T?"

She'd say yes. I'd run my fingers over the butter smooth leather, even prance up and down the cubicle area with it hanging nicely from my shoulder.

"It's soooo soft," I say everyday.

"And you can tell it is," Hen-Dog say. "The cow that was used for it was specifically raised for that purse."

I nod in agreement. My eyes glaze over as I continue to enjoy it's softness. She has had it for only a month, so it still has that "new" smell to it. I give it back to my coworker, because she is giving me that look that says "Gimmee my purse back, Oldgirl!!"

The purse cost 500 bucks. That price- I don't know- It snaps me back to reality real quick.

I feen for this purse for a reason. It is similar to the type of purse I always carry. This is my current purse:

I've carried this style of purse for several years. I paid 30 dollars at Target for that one a couple of months ago, and I am STILL mad about that!

I'd probably stroke out if I plop down 500 bucks for a Coach Carly.

I continued my usual antics of pestering my coworker about that purse. I know I annoy her, but what the hell. Holding that purse for five minutes makes my heart race. It is something out of a dream.

Then I got a call from the Queen of Lurk City.

"Lee, they have your Coach Carly on eBay."

**silence**

Okay, that was waaaay too much to deal with. A impromptu call from Tayari, convo about that special purse... And that was the second time that week that I'd talk to the Queen. That was waaaaay too much.

I'm STILL trying to figure out how her number is saved in my phone, as I am notorious for not saving numbers.

I had to catch myself ("Goodness, no I'm not having a girly conversation.") I don't talk about purses and shoes and such, because I ain't into all that. Lately, I'd been thinking about how to get a hold of a Playstation3 console.

But my goodness, who would have known that Tayari is not only the best writer in the universe, but that she is also a master "pursologist", a purse sommelier of sorts!!?

Let's just say, she hipped me to the whole current world of "pocketbooks" in less than 10 minutes.

Oh my!

I had a writing question, but decided it was, I don't know... inappropriate, considering the context of the girly convo.

LOL!

I got off the phone, and I must admit that I had the shakes. I was REAL excited. I was working on fixing a flaky computer program at the time, and I just stopped that altogether before I tore something up.

I could see myself walking to my cubicle, bidding on that purse, and HAVING it. Then I thought about how my Financial Freedom leader would NEVER let me hear the end of it
("You gotta get out of debt, LadyLee, blah, blah, BLAH!")

I stayed back in the lab and continued what I was doing. I had to do the right thing. I promised myself that I would give myself a good hour to calm down, then go and have a look-see.

I didn't get around to it. (But it's was on my mind real heavy-like, mayne.)

Well, I was at home a couple of evenings after that post on the purse, all snug in my bed, sleeping GOOD, when I get a phone call from my "friend" Mike, who is a bit more interested in me than I care to really talk about. (Let's just say he is a bit too aggressive for my liking.)

"Hello, you sleep?"
I stretched and turned over.
"Yes, I was knocked out."
"I just wanted to call and say goodnight."
"Uh, yeah."

This pisses me off. What is up with that? Why call me to wish me a goodnight? That ish ain't cute. We're not in high school. I'm not calling Mike to wish him goodnight. Reminder to self: next time, don't answer the phone.

"Hey, uh, I read your blog yesterday, the story about the black bag."
"What did I tell you about reading my blog? Chill with that."
"No, 'cuz it's a free country."

And this is why I don't like Mike. He can't follow simple instructions.

He sighs hard, then says...

"I want to buy that purse for you."

*LadyLee sits straight up in bed*

(you know I have to leave you hanging off the cliff by tips of your fingernails... right?)

LOL...

Stay tuned tomorrow for "The Curse of the Purse, Part II"