It's just a little crush...

As our holiday was winding down, I realized how much time I had spent with the Significant Other’s beloved backpack. All the evenings in the hotel room, on the drive down, the day the Lady and the S.O. visited the Zoo with her MEC backpack in tow, leaving us alone to get acquainted. Now, I know what you’re thinking, dear Reader. Why would a Pretty Purple Purse like me pay attention to a rugged, scrappy backpack like him? It’s what romantic comedies are made of. We’re opposites, but this purse can’t help but appreciate his masculinity, his clean lines and the sense that he’s experienced many things the world has to offer. The drive back to Winnipeg was bliss, cuddled on the backseat with my handsome bag. Could this be the beginning of a beautiful friendship?

Down to a Science

On Monday, the Lady, the S.O. and I graced the Science Museum of Minnesota. At first, the copious amounts of schoolchildren running to and fro on a year-end field trip high made me nervous. Riding the exhibits like tiny bull riders at a rodeo, the Lady was equally weary of the youngsters, although her concerns revolved chiefly around the safety of the children and the preservation of the exhibits, instead of any potential damage incurred by her precious purse.

After some persuading, I decided to try out a few exhibits and learn a bit about science. First, the Lady brought me to a display about all the disgusting ‘tissue issues’ people suffer with, including warts and scabs. Really? I agreed to pose for a photograph, keeping my straps as far as possible from the festering wounds and splinters. Finely, before we left for the cheap date night, I decided to find out how many litres of blood course through my veins, so to speak. Not many, apparently!

Minnesoexcited!

The Lady and the Significant Other recently took a road trip to the booming metropolis of Minneapolis, Minnesota, dontcha know? All the bags were packed, snacks were assembled and paper organized for a six-day-five-night, much deserved holiday. Admittedly, I slept almost the entire drive down, except for the occasional time I was pillaged for a wallet or the passports or a lip gloss. The Lady entertained the S.O. with endless games of Trivial Pursuit on her iPod and the S.O. stopped to, ahem, use the facilities at every opportunity. This meant, naturally, that I saw the inside of many powder rooms across North Dakota and Minnesota, including one that reminded the Lady so vividly of a scene from the cinematic masterpiece Zombieland that she did her business in record time for fear an unmentionable would grab her ankles under the stall door. Speaking of Zombies, the highlight of my Saturday was enjoying a drink or two at Donny Dirk’s Zombie Den in Northeast Minneapolis with the Lady and the S.O. In fact, hankering for a gin, the bartender created the Lady a special, one-of-a-kind cocktail. The S.O. called the sweet concoction “Zombie’s Kiss”, while the Lady dubbed it “Gin of the Dead”. No consensus was reached, although I lean toward the romanticism of kiss.

Fashion Emergency

The Lady, suffering from a yet to be determined ailment, went to the emergency room twice last week. Spending the better part of a 30 hour period in waiting rooms and hospital beds is no way to pass the time. However, the Lady is nothing if not prepared and she stuffed me to the brim on the second visit, with a little help from her Knight in Shining Armour -until now known to you as the Significant Other. Water bottles, oranges, tissues, McDonald's, a book and the trusty iPod packed my insides. The Knight commented on my weight after he offered to carry me for the Lady when she was in pain. Me, heavy? How dare he?! Either way, seeing the Lady in an unflattering hospital gown twice in one week was almost too much to bear.

While the second visit was far more productive, it was the first visit that was more entertaining for yours truly. See, as the Lady sat on the exam table answering question after question from the nurse, she needed to refer to her day planner, neatly stored in my inner pocket. As the nurse was passing me to the Lady, she paused to admire my beauty and voice her approval. Despite her exhaustion, her frustration and discomfort, the Lady couldn't help but be amused. What can I say? I'm always the centre of attention.

Ms. Lonely

Today, in a move most unprecedented, the Lady left me at home when she went to work. At first I was insulted, as she began to remove critical contents from my insides, but once I realized she was putting smelly, dirty sneakers and garlic-infused foodstuffs into her backpack, I breathed a sigh of relief. Scarcely since our first encounter, have the Lady and I been separated by more than a couple of rooms. Now I have an entire day to do what I please, put my straps up and forget about the woes of carting around wallets and lip gloss and tissue. But, dear Reader, what is it that pleases me? Watching TV? Reading? Knitting? No. My purpose in life is to look pristine and pretty, perched on the shoulder of a wonderful woman. And here I sit, alone in the flat, staring at the dining table, waiting for her to come home.

Fun in the Car

On Sunday, the Lady did two things she hadn’t tried in a long time. Firstly, the Significant Other let her practice driving standard on his lovely new car –the indelible Jeannie. See Dear Reader, the four of us –the Lady, the S.O., Jeannie and I– are taking a trip to Minneapolis next week. And although the fellow is an accomplished driver, it’s not feasible for him to drive the entire trip, which is why the Lady practiced. Clutch, gas, clutch, shift. First, fourth, third. Oh dear! It was a lesson in patience, to be sure. The S.O. watching as his baby was being tortured at the hands of this monster! No, no, he was a gentle teacher and I was pleased from my perch on the backseat to hear him praise the Lady’s effort. She was thrilled.

After all the practicing, they were hungry and so the S.O. suggested taking a drive out to Lockport for dinner. On the way the Lady decided that she would eat a hotdog. For most people, this might be a mundane act, a regular occurrence, but my Lady is not a meat eater and a wiener has not passed her lips since the nineties. But there I sat, dangerously close to a pile of goose poo, watching as the Lady devoured an entire hotdog with the works. It was a day of firsts for this Pretty Purple Purse.

Don't Rain on My Prada

To walk or not to walk, that is the question. If you’re the Lady, the answer is to walk. In the rain. And the wind. We weren’t entirely victim to the elements, for the Lady had an umbrella. While math is not my strong suit, I do know that Umbrella + Wind(Rain) = Awkwardness. This equation made the walk home challenging for the Lady. Doing her best to protect me from the rain, she had to use both hands to clutch the umbrella and control it like a wild steed. At some point in her varied past, I think the Lady must have been a nanny, because at more than one point during our trek she almost flew away like Mary Poppins. Now, Ms. Poppins was a lovely woman with the sassy sweetness of Betty White and resourcefulness of Martha Stewart, but her taste was questionable…I mean that carpet bag? Vraiment?

Dying Hard

The Lady and the S.O. recently attended a marathon. Now, let me clarify one thing...the Lady does not run. This particular marathon involved a series of films called "Die Hard" and a group of adults in Snuggies cuddling on a couch, eyes glued to the television. A purse such as myself goes in for more...cultured fare with foreign films topping the list. The adults seemed to enjoy themselves, though. And apparently Bruce Willis still has it, whatever it is. Now, that being said, all the snacking and gorging on pizza and whatnot created a maelstrom of noxious gases which enveloped the room and all those in it. Not to say the Lady (or the S.O. for that matter) has never expelled a foul odour since our acquaintance, but this, dear Reader, was atrocious. It nearly dissolved the stitching on my seams! The best part of the day was finally having the opportunity to socialize with my lovely friend...the Cheetah Print Purse. A friendship made in fashion heaven?