Pursuit of the Perfect Purse

It seems in life that men are forever chasing golf balls, a plaid shirt that is almost identical to the others they already have, or the next new car smell. Women, on the other hand, are in constant pursuit of the perfect purse.

I sit here in a chair looking at a collection of used purses laid out on a table at our garage sale. I recall how each served a purpose at one time in my life. They provided not only a practical means of portable storage with their impressive amounts of pockets and compartments, but also an attempt to make some sort of personal fashion statement.  If asked, I could not specify why any one of those purses inevitably was emptied and put high on the shelf in the closet.  And I can't explain why I continue to tolerate my current purse that has only one pocket, but otherwise is just a bottomless pit.  They should make an "app" for locating items in your purse. But, that would only work if I could actually find my phone that is lost somewhere in the black hole that is my purse. Come to think of it, I do know why I still put up with this particular purse. Yes, it is stylish and when I first saw it, it some how spoke to me that it was the purse for me. The only plausible reason would be that of pure destiny. But, the real reason that I continue to use this purse is because it brings back the memories that go with it when I bought it.

It was a couple of years ago now that we were in New York City with my sister and her family. We were daring the New York adventure of shopping for underground black market designer purses. Having navigated Canal Street before, my sister knew just the right winks and nods it took to connect with the sales people that would guide us past the store fronts and down into the secret chambers of wholesale brand name purses. The game was to play the shopper that is unwilling to accept the ticket price and even make the move of walking away. This of course, prompted the last ditch effort of bargaining for a price that would not only seal the deal, but make for the best stories of the trip. My sister, and her soon to be daughter-in-law, bought a couple of purses for a fraction of the cost of retail. They nonchalantly surfaced back onto the street carrying their contraband in the tell-tale black plastic bags that indicated to all of the other black market dealers that they were "players".

That experience in itself was a blast, but I really didn't need a purse and up to that point had no reason to buy one.  While we continued our journey through the purse stores of Canal Street, we walked into a small unobtrusive store displaying more purses that pretty much looked like all of the other purses that we had seen so far;  except for that "one" purse.  For some reason I was drawn to it. Nobody else in the group paid any attention to it. I picked it up and threw it over my shoulder; it just felt right. I put it back on the shelf and tried to convince myself that even at that ridiculously low price, I didn't need a purse. I started to walk away but somehow felt compelled to turn around and look at it just one more time. I figured by doing that and not turning into a pillar of salt, it was God's will that I buy that purse after all.

As of today I still use this purse. Oh, some day another purse will come along and invariably take its place, or out of necessity due to wear and tear I will need to buy another purse. But, until such time, I will continue to dive for keys, pens, floss, and the like, that are buried deep in the bottom of this purse. You see, every time I pick up that purse it takes me back to Canal Street in New York City, and all the precious times shared there with my sister and family.  Some day in the future there will come another garage sale where I will lay this purse onto the table and attach to it a piece of masking tape with a price on it. Maybe when that day comes, some one else will see that purse and, for whatever reason, it will speak to them too.

You know that old saying that "garage sales are one man's junk but another man's treasure"?  I don't think of it as "junk", but rather just closure to treasured memories that are about to take on a new story when someone else takes home their own new found "treasure".  

Doughnut - song lyrics from the movie The Sound of Pastry

Doughnut

 

(Song lyrics by Barb Miller from the movie The Sound of Pastry)

Dough, a smear, a glazed top tier

Cake, a hole in center fun

Me, I can't control myself

I choose the lemon centered one

Goo, in middle of the bread

Nuts, on top the frosting head

With these, the pounds I will not shed

Which will bring us back to Dough (oh-oh-oh)

All The World Is A Stage

(This week my Faithwriters.com writing challenge entry of under 750 words with topic being "outstanding")

"Come on in Nell, and thanks for picking those up for me." Gloria said as she stepped aside to let in her best friend. "How many did you get? I'm so nervous. I've been up since three. Do you want some coffee? I've already drank a whole pot, but I can make another one if you want. Oh forget the coffee. I'll make it after I read them. No, I can't. Please, could you read them to me? "

Nell gently took Gloria by the hand and led her to the couch and, as requested, began to read the first review. "This one is from Variety":  "I saw no prodigy in last nights Broadway play Prodigy of Baker Street.  Along with this play's lack of depth or continuity, lead actor Jason Arlen, and supporting actress Gloria Holden's performances were as unremarkable as the play itself." "Forget this one." Nell said as she non-chalantly placed the paper on the floor behind her. "Don't let that bother you Glo, I heard a lot of these critics don't even go to the plays they write about anyway. They just thrive on being nasty."

Nell pulled up from the stack the next paper. "Here, The New York Daily News has a much better reputation; let's see what they have to say." "Prodigy of Baker Street opened last night with expectations of another hit from writer, director Matthew Holloway. But unfortunately the plot line and drab script of this play left me only to realize that, unlike Holloway's last play, Hit and a Miss, this was one is definitely a miss." "Yada, yada, yada, okay, here…" "Gloria Holden who played supporting actress to  lead actor Jason Arlen, tried her best to deliver her lines, but between the two of them this three act play dragged on rendering it mildly entertaining at best." "Now see, he saw that you tried. It's not your fault the writing sucked."

"How many more are there?" Gloria questioned Nell as she closed her eyes, tipped her head back, and squinted with reserved anticipation.

"There are just two more. Hang in there Gloria. I was there and thought you did great. This one is from the Chicago Times": "Broadway saw the opening of a new play by Matthew Holloway last night called Prodigy of Baker Street. Quite frankly, this play should be running in some little theatre/bowling alley on Baker Street in Small Town USA, not on Broadway in New York City.  The weak and flimsy story line was matched only by mediocre acting."  Nell quickly tried to salvage any dignity left from that last statement by saying:  "I'm sure that he didn't mention your name because he thought that even the best of actors couldn't have saved this play." But Gloria still couldn't help but hang her head and sigh.

  

"Gloria, this is the last one. Do you want me to read it?"

"Go ahead. If it isn't any better than the others, I have an emergency bag of M&M's in the cupboard if we need them." Gloria said as she held back her tears.

Nell began to read from the last paper. "This review is on the front cover!" "The play Prodigy of Baker Street opened last night on Broadway. From the moment the curtains opened my breath was taken away by the outstanding performance of this plays supporting actress Gloria Holden.  I could not take my eyes off of her as she delivered every line with dramatic passion and sincerity." "Gloria, this guy really loves you! Wait, there's more." "This beautiful young woman possesses great creativity and truly has a God given talent. The writing and story of this play had much to be desired. But Gloria gave such life to her character; I left with a longing to see this play over and over again."

Gloria looked up and paused for a moment before speaking. "Wow! What paper is that from?"

Looking straight at Gloria Nell answered,  "I didn't pick it out; some guy at the stand just handed it to me as I was leaving."

"You're kidding?" Gloria took a deep breath in, and even though she had a grin on her face; tears were falling down her cheeks. "What's the name of the paper?" She asked." And what's the writer's name?"

"The paper is called Abba's Bragging Rights Review, and the writer just goes by the initials J.C."

writing challenge "outbreak"

I joined a web site for Christian writers called Faithwriters.com    Every week they throw out a theme and ask their members to take a shot at writing about it with a 150 to 750 word story or peom.  Here is my writing for this weeks challenge of the word "outbreak" :

Grace new she was loved. From the day Tykera brought her home from the hospital she was the essence of life in their third floor one bedroom apartment. The sound of cars, busses, and the roar of the transit train were a constant during the daylight hours, and at night add to that the occasional cursing from her neighbour behind paper thin walls. But this existence was a haven compared to life on the streets that included brutal beatings by the hand of a pimp if the money brought in was less than expected. What was even more unexpected was the day Tykera was told that she was pregnant.

The doctor's were able to stop the internal bleeding from the brutal blows that left her with bruised kidneys and a ruptured spleen. Against all odds the faint beat of a heart echoed from Tykera's womb that gave her hope for escape from a life of illicit sex, drugs, and pain. It didn't matter that this conceptions was by a nameless man of moral disgrace. This was Tykera's fork in life's road. It was now or never. The words of the nurse in the hospital that night kept coming back to her. She was special and her life was valuable. So valuable and so loved that God himself sacrificed His son to make sure that she had hope for the future, loved unconditionally, and she need never face life alone again.

An outbreak of desperate and extreme frenzy overtook Tykera as she trembled past each convulsion of withdrawals. "Just let me die!" was her agonizing cry as the hours of sweat and pain led into days of restraint from her hospital bed. "Oh God, I can't do this." She had no conscious awareness that prayers were coming from the now off duty nurse in the chair right beside her; prayers that were pleading for relief and life.

The unmistakable aroma of bacon came wafting into the room. Tykera breathed in with a sense of smell that for so long had eluded her. She focussed her eyes on the surroundings in her room. Turning to the chair next to her bed she saw a box of Kleenex and an open Bible. "Well good morning Sunshine" the nurse said as she wheeled in the cart containing a plate of breakfast under a plastic dome. "If you eat at least some of this we can unhook your I.V. today." By hospital standards this was a basic entrée for breakfast, but for Tykera, this was a breakfast of champions.

"Well praise the Lord, look who lives" were the words that came from the smiling face of a stout but attractive middle aged woman as she entered Tykera's room. "Do I know you?" said Tykera. "Yes and no" said the woman. She sat herself in the chair next to the bed with that Bible now in her lap. "My name is Althea." Then she gently gripped Tykera's hand and said "Now, do you know who you are?" Silence filled the room as Tykera held back the tears of facing her own reality.

She bit her bottom lip for a brief second and faintly replied: "I think I am going to be a mom. But I don't know how to do that. I don't have a job or no place to live." The facts were clear and on her chart that she had been beaten, endured detoxification, and was pregnant. But at this moment, knowing "who she was" was not as clear. With a sincere but deliberate voice, Althea responded: "You my dear are here for a reason. God believes in you more than you believe in yourself right now. I can set you up on a path for support and income. But you have a choice to make. Go forward on you own accord, and "how's that been workin for you so far?". Or, take a leap of faith of letting God's love let you live life with purpose and power."

Hospital room 531 that day became the birthplace of Tykera; a child of God. After that prayer's "amen" Althea and Tykera embraced each other with tears of joy. At the same time there was an outbreak of song of rejoicing from the angels in heaven. Seven months later room 207 became the birthplace of Grace. Born that day was a child conceived from an act of violation, but named after the redeeming provision of freedom in Christ. Again, the angels sang.

Separation Anxiety

I had a dog one time that was a bit on the insecure side. Because of this he became obsessed with a need to be with me all of the time. As much as I tried to impress on him that I was only going to be gone for a short while and that I would soon be back; being a dog, he didn't understand a word I said. He only new that one minute I was there and the next minute I wasn't. They call it separation anxiety. When left alone, or even when with another dog, he would become anxious to the point of frenzy. With his mind in a panic of my absence he would dig at the door or find anything of a size to pull away and chew into pieces. Most of the time it was a magazine, a paper product of some sort, or one of his toys.  Even when confined to a dog kennel, he would gnaw on the chain link and often push against the bar of the door to bend it open enough to squeeze out. Then he would sit at the door waiting for me to come back.

From what I understand, toddlers at a certain age will also go through a separation anxiety when they lose sight of their mother. Although I have never had children, I have witnessed the screaming terror of a child realizing that his mother is no longer in the room. For the most part, children will grow out of this and eventually get to an age when they actually prefer that their mother not to be around at all. But dogs emotionally remain at the age of a human toddler. They make drugs now to help reduce the stress of separation anxiety in dogs, but at the cost of semi-sedation.

Sometimes I feel like I have separation anxiety when it comes to God. I know He loves me and I have experienced a true relationship with Him in many deep, but spiritual ways. His physical absence in my life at times becomes a frustration. I also know that He has promised that He will come back and we will be forever together. But, I still sit and look out my life's front window and can't help but feel the anxiety of anticipation for the physical reality of His presence. I've always heard things like "God is in control", and "it is all in God's timing". God knows that in the big picture of things it won't be long, and there will come a time when there will never be any separation. When my dog frets over my not being there I don't find out till I see him again how he chose to handle his anxiety. But God in his power and position can see me in my times of life and knows of my separation anxiety. I'm sure He really doesn't want me chewing things up or sitting and staring at the door; or in this case of cosmic eternity,the ceiling. He knew that this sort of thing might happen. That is why He implanted in us the Holy Spirit. It's that internal nudging that tells me to stop staring at the door and enjoy life for what it is. I've got a good home, a loving family, and the ability to have fun and enjoy life.

I'm also reminded of the separation anxiety I had as a child when I went to summer camp. I didn't want to go. But my Mom and Dad told me that I would have fun and that they would pick me up at the end of the week. Soon after meeting new friends, rowing boats across the lake, and roasting marshmallows under the stars, that anxiety of leaving home never entered my mind.
Well, this world is one big camp. There are new friends around every corner, lots of arts and crafts, and always with the promise of home at the end. Whenever I get that feeling of separation anxiety, the Holy Spirit sits me down and tells me that I should go and have fun; he will be there to pick me up at the end of camp.

How is sin like canned peas?

Okay, my mic is good. Just count me in Nick. Five, four, three, two...

Welcome back. We have here in kitchen stadium the distinguished Iron Chef Bobby Filet, of the famous Mesa Grill, and on the other side is Iron Chef Gordon Damnsay of Hell's Kitchen. Today's secret ingredient is: The humble PEA. They have before them a selection of fresh peas, dried peas, and lastly canned peas.

These contenders have an hour to produce for our judges three dishes utilizing the pea as their theme ingredient.
On our left it appears that Iron Chef Bobby Filet is preparing what looks like a classic oriental salad using Ramen noodles, cabbage and snap peas. He is keeping it safe here so far. Let's take a look at what Chef Damnsay is doing.

Ah, Gordon has chosen to take canned peas and put them into the sorbet machine with some mangoes, passion fruit, and pistachio nuts. Bold move. We will see if this combination works for him or against him.
But wait, Chef Damnsay is now smashing a hand full of peas into the face of one of his assistants. Let's see if we can hear what he is saying.
"I told you to use CANNED PEAS! Figure it out you IDIOT! If you think that you are going to waste my time with your righteous need to use fresh ingredients, you are sorely wrong. Get the hell out of my kitchen!"
I guess ovens aren't the only hot thing in kitchen stadium tonight.
With only thirty minutes on the clock now, each of our Iron Chefs have their teams scurrying to complete their assigned tasks in order to make this pea theme a delight for taste as well as appearance. Too bad it's not St. Patrick's Day for this one.

Ladies and gentlemen, this does not happen very often, but our chefs have both chosen to include as one of their dishes a split pea soup. The difference here is that Chef Filet must have had that in mind from the beginning. He has just removed a ham hock from a pot of perfectly boiled dried peas with carrots, onions, and celery. I must say, it smells delicious too. Chef Damnsay, has decided to go with canned peas in order to get his final dish prepared and ready for presentation in time. How will these two means of preparing the same dish compare with our discerning expert judges?

Time is UP! When we come back, Chef Filet's dishes will be going before our panel of judges.
5,4,3,2...First up we have appetizers. One of which consists of caviar that has been spooned into a hollowed out pea shell and rolled up with an outer layer of thinly sliced prucetta. The second is a perfectly seared scallop skewered into the center of a snow pea and drizzled with a honey garlic soy sauce.

Now the oriental Ramen salad. The judges seem very pleased with the balance of crispness and tartness this salad offers to the palate.
Next up is Chef Filet's pea soup served with his own take of the ever popular BLT. In his version he uses a rosemary and sun dried tomato focaccia bread, sauteed Portobello mushrooms, lightly blanched peas, crispy smoked bacon, and topped with a mound of lemon grass tossed in a raspberry vinaigrette.

So far the judges like his dishes and are actually cleaning their soup bowls up with the last bite of their BLT sandwiches.
Now it's time for Chef Damnsay to impress the judges.
He has chosen for his starter spanakopita. But instead of spinach with feta cheese he has used canned peas. I think the fact that all three judges have taken only one bite and left the rest, tells us that this choice of substitution fails by comparison.

Now he will attempt to cleanse their palates with his canned pea passion fruit sorbet. Oddly enough,it has a very pleasing appearance. But will that....oh, that's a first. The judges are actually spitting their sorbet back onto the plate.

Let's see if his split pea soup will win them over. Hmmm, by the grimacing looks on their faces I think the answer here is a definite "NO".
The judging is over and only one question remains...whose cuisine will reign supreme?

The answer here is obvious. The answer to the question "how is sin like canned peas?" is also obvious. Fresh is always better than canned.

Better Late Than Never

While at the pool today, I was talking to a woman who was also was there because of a New Year's resolution. Except this year, she decided to take the guilt out of any possible failure and keep it positive. Her New Year's resolution is "better late than never".  Here it is the first day of March, and and she just got her Christmas cards out in the mail last week....better late than never.

It got me to thinking just how this new approach to change would work.

 I will tell members of my family that I love them every time I see them....better late than never.

This year I will eat right, drink more water, and exercise....better late than never.

I will floss my teeth at least once a day....better late than never.
 
I will de-clutter my house by taking on one room at a time....better late than never.

I will take pictures of those items I always thought should be sold and list them on eBay...better late than never.
 
When the change oil light comes on in my car, I will take it in for service sometime that week....better late than never.

The fuel light came on in my car. I will get gas tomorrow....better late than. Uh oh.

When I get the renewal notice for AAA I will send the check in as soon as possible....darn.

I will charge my phone when I see the battery is low....oh crap.

By the time I walk two miles in the pouring rain to the nearest gas station and return to put gas in my car so I can make it back to the gas station and fill up the car with gas so I can make it to the AAA office to renew my road side assistance policy and still have time to get to the Jiffy Lube to get the oil changed in the car, then stop by the store to pick up fresh fruit, vegetables, bottled water, and rice cakes, I will still have time to get to the Dairy Queen and have a Chocolate Caramel Pecan Fudge Lava Sundae...
better late than never.