Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Bloody Bus
In an unexpected turn of events, the Lady actually had a good day riding the bus. No wafts of gasoline and bologna or human excrement. No parents feeding their toddler sugary colas and salt and vinegar chips. No passengers yelling at other riders. Phew. In fact, she was able to lend a helping hand to a young man, in no small part thanks to yours truly. Halfway through the ride downtown, the bus stopped and picked up several passengers, including a young man with a discreet, yet potential messy trail of blood from his nose. Another rider alerted him to the situation and alarmed, he began to use his toque to clean up his face. The Lady thought this silly, as the weather has been very chilly of late and a bloody toque would be no good to the young man. Thankfully, I have a store of tissue in my inner pocket, which the Lady promptly pulled out and offered to another passenger to pass to our bloody friend. A return of thanks was passed our way and soon enough the nosebleed cleared up. This purse feels like a regular -but oh so stylish- Florence Nightingale!
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Movember Madness
Dear Reader, women of this nation have the opportunity to acknowledge, raise awareness of and generate funds for Breast Cancer each and every October through the sale of all things pink - which is, incidentally, the Lady's favourite colour. Store after store of pink frying pans, spatulas, staplers, pens and hats make us remember those who have survived and those who have succumbed to this terrible disease.
As of late, the following month has been dedicated to raising awareness of Prostate Cancer, affecting the lives of many Canadian men. Instead of selling colourful housewares and sporting ribbons, participants in this awareness campaign grow moustaches and refer to November as Movember. Interesting fact, en francais, les hommes are celebrating movembre.
This purse is used to moustaches, as the Lady's dad has a long, walrus-esque moustache that is famous for its robustness amongst all those who know him. Anytime we run into an old friend or acquaintance, the most commonly asked question is "Does your dad still have that awesome moustache?" However, I am shocked at the number of men who begin to look like criminals of the petty variety upon growing a wispy soup strainer. I pray the Lady will clutch me tighter when we pass sketchy looking fellows with fresh Movember 'staches. I support the cause, but according to many of the ladies in my life, December can't come soon enough.
As of late, the following month has been dedicated to raising awareness of Prostate Cancer, affecting the lives of many Canadian men. Instead of selling colourful housewares and sporting ribbons, participants in this awareness campaign grow moustaches and refer to November as Movember. Interesting fact, en francais, les hommes are celebrating movembre.
This purse is used to moustaches, as the Lady's dad has a long, walrus-esque moustache that is famous for its robustness amongst all those who know him. Anytime we run into an old friend or acquaintance, the most commonly asked question is "Does your dad still have that awesome moustache?" However, I am shocked at the number of men who begin to look like criminals of the petty variety upon growing a wispy soup strainer. I pray the Lady will clutch me tighter when we pass sketchy looking fellows with fresh Movember 'staches. I support the cause, but according to many of the ladies in my life, December can't come soon enough.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Nice to Meat You
After twelve years of vegetarianism, well, pescatarianism, the Lady has returned to the meat-eating ways of her youth. The decision, I'm told, is prompted largely by her sensitivity to soy and soy-related ingredients in loads of vegetarian protein options. The results of her consumption of her soy are akin to, and I quote, "having a knitting needle stabbed into my abdomen". Should she win an award for overdramatization? Perhaps. However, having witnessed a reaction or two since we've met, I understand her aversion. That said, for the past few months, she has reintroduced meat into her diet and things appear to be going smoothly.
She has reminisced about past meat-eating experiences, especially a few nibbles she snuck in during her decade of meat-celibacy, namely:
5. A bite of steak while on holiday in Victoria five years ago. The cheese plate that followed was better, though!
4. Chicken livers at Ichiban with her favourite New Yorkers, Hallie and Krista. The creamy texture of the livers exceeded her expectation.
3. A hotdog whilst on a date with the S.O. Specifically, she says, because the first bite with its yielding snap of the casing and the steamy centre is something she dreamt about for years.
2. Moose, Filipino-barbecue style at her friend's baby shower. Hunted by her friend, the Archaeologist, and cooked up by his now-wife, this meat was savoury and addictive.
1. A piece of Filet Mignon shared at a chain steakhouse over a year ago.
Those who have known the Lady for many years -and obsessed over or ridiculed her vegetarianism- have pondered why she returned to consuming meat. Was it outside influence or pressure? Weakness for the meat as it called to her tastily from the plate? Only she'll ever know, I suppose. What do I care? I'm a purse!
She has reminisced about past meat-eating experiences, especially a few nibbles she snuck in during her decade of meat-celibacy, namely:
5. A bite of steak while on holiday in Victoria five years ago. The cheese plate that followed was better, though!
4. Chicken livers at Ichiban with her favourite New Yorkers, Hallie and Krista. The creamy texture of the livers exceeded her expectation.
3. A hotdog whilst on a date with the S.O. Specifically, she says, because the first bite with its yielding snap of the casing and the steamy centre is something she dreamt about for years.
2. Moose, Filipino-barbecue style at her friend's baby shower. Hunted by her friend, the Archaeologist, and cooked up by his now-wife, this meat was savoury and addictive.
1. A piece of Filet Mignon shared at a chain steakhouse over a year ago.
Those who have known the Lady for many years -and obsessed over or ridiculed her vegetarianism- have pondered why she returned to consuming meat. Was it outside influence or pressure? Weakness for the meat as it called to her tastily from the plate? Only she'll ever know, I suppose. What do I care? I'm a purse!
Harry Potter and the Purple Purse
The Lady took me on a date tonight...with her sister and the soon-to-be brother-in-law -hereafter known as the STBBIL, which is fitting, given his penchant for sporting beards or beard-like facial hair.
The four of us went to see the latest installment of Harry Potter at the cinema. This date has been postponed due to various circumstances out of the control of several party members, which dwindled after the Lady's friend, Halfie, had an urgent matter to attend to and declined his invitation. However, our little group pressed on. STBBIL and the Lady left early for the theatre to ensure the procurement of tickets, while Stinky tutored a thirteen year old (OMG, like, Harry Potter is awesome. LOL. Ugh, give this purse a break!). On their way, they opted to stop for candy and some, ahem, personal items that may explain why the Lady cried four times during the film. For the first time in her twenty eight years, the Lady shopped at Giant Tiger -or Tay-ger, as some mothers are apt to say. She wanted desperately to stop and look at the Aqua Globes and peruse the housewares, yet the call of Ron Weasley pulled her forward.
Thankfully, the theatre wasn't too packed with dorky muggles and aspiring wizards. Except for the dorky muggle on whose shoulder I was perched. The Lady grabbed a straw from the concession stand and when her sister walked into the building, the Lady pointed it at her and yelled out a spell from the books. I almost died of embarrassment. I can't take her anywhere, Dear Reader.
The film itself was well done. It was moving, had all the touches necessary to capture the essence of the book and left me wanting more...countdown to the release of Part Two has begun! Oh dear...I seem to have caught dorkiness. I must get out more.
The four of us went to see the latest installment of Harry Potter at the cinema. This date has been postponed due to various circumstances out of the control of several party members, which dwindled after the Lady's friend, Halfie, had an urgent matter to attend to and declined his invitation. However, our little group pressed on. STBBIL and the Lady left early for the theatre to ensure the procurement of tickets, while Stinky tutored a thirteen year old (OMG, like, Harry Potter is awesome. LOL. Ugh, give this purse a break!). On their way, they opted to stop for candy and some, ahem, personal items that may explain why the Lady cried four times during the film. For the first time in her twenty eight years, the Lady shopped at Giant Tiger -or Tay-ger, as some mothers are apt to say. She wanted desperately to stop and look at the Aqua Globes and peruse the housewares, yet the call of Ron Weasley pulled her forward.
Thankfully, the theatre wasn't too packed with dorky muggles and aspiring wizards. Except for the dorky muggle on whose shoulder I was perched. The Lady grabbed a straw from the concession stand and when her sister walked into the building, the Lady pointed it at her and yelled out a spell from the books. I almost died of embarrassment. I can't take her anywhere, Dear Reader.
The film itself was well done. It was moving, had all the touches necessary to capture the essence of the book and left me wanting more...countdown to the release of Part Two has begun! Oh dear...I seem to have caught dorkiness. I must get out more.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Adventures on the Bus
The Lady has moved too far away to walk home from work these days, so on a typical day, she takes the bus to and from work. Even if the Lady had a wonderful day at work with rewarding moments throughout her interactions, the bus can turn her into a black cloud of frustration and anger. Unfortunately, I often accompany her on these adventures and have seen some sights and smelled some smells I would trade for a stab with a knitting needle anyday.
Last Friday afternoon, the Lady and I waited in the now-freezing temperatures at the bus stop for any bus to take us to our transfer destination. Time passed; it got colder and colder and the sky darkened -not to be dramatic, the Earth continues its rotation regardless of circumstances here on the surface!- and finally a bus heading in the direction we needed to travel pulled up. It was packed, but neither of us paid any mind, as it meant we were on our way home. As the Lady paid her fare -Purses ride for free- she noticed a particular odour hanging in the air...permanent marker? she thought. Or gasoline. Likely the latter, as she quickly spotted three individuals seated towards the front of the bus with rags tucked into their sleeves, a sure sign that they were sniffers. As the ride continued, the fumes permeated every square inch of the bus, giving the Lady overwhelming nausea. This was only compounded by the trios impromptu picnic of bologna sandwiches -which the woman in the group said "comes from horses".
The Lady was conflicted. She felt bad for the poor state of the sniffers...what kind of life is that? However, she also noted the mother with children sitting across the way and wondered how she would explain that to her kids when they got home. Once she got to her transfer stop, the Lady breathed the "fresh" air of downtown at rush hour, still gagging from the atmosphere on the bus. She thought the time she swore someone defecated themselves on the bus last winter was her worst ride, odourwise, but much to both of our chagrins, this one takes the cake. I'm so glad Purses lack an olfactory system.
Last Friday afternoon, the Lady and I waited in the now-freezing temperatures at the bus stop for any bus to take us to our transfer destination. Time passed; it got colder and colder and the sky darkened -not to be dramatic, the Earth continues its rotation regardless of circumstances here on the surface!- and finally a bus heading in the direction we needed to travel pulled up. It was packed, but neither of us paid any mind, as it meant we were on our way home. As the Lady paid her fare -Purses ride for free- she noticed a particular odour hanging in the air...permanent marker? she thought. Or gasoline. Likely the latter, as she quickly spotted three individuals seated towards the front of the bus with rags tucked into their sleeves, a sure sign that they were sniffers. As the ride continued, the fumes permeated every square inch of the bus, giving the Lady overwhelming nausea. This was only compounded by the trios impromptu picnic of bologna sandwiches -which the woman in the group said "comes from horses".
The Lady was conflicted. She felt bad for the poor state of the sniffers...what kind of life is that? However, she also noted the mother with children sitting across the way and wondered how she would explain that to her kids when they got home. Once she got to her transfer stop, the Lady breathed the "fresh" air of downtown at rush hour, still gagging from the atmosphere on the bus. She thought the time she swore someone defecated themselves on the bus last winter was her worst ride, odourwise, but much to both of our chagrins, this one takes the cake. I'm so glad Purses lack an olfactory system.
Going Cocoknits
This Purse has been a very bad blogger indeed! The last few months have been a true whirlwind of upheaval and uncertainty, so blogging has been very much put on the back burner. Why the upheaval and uncertainty, you ask? Between the Lady's move, her constant job search and her resulting feeling of not fitting in anywhere, I have been dragged around town and stuffed with new and exciting things on a daily basis.
To conquer the doldrums, the Lady has resumed knitting with a fervor typically reserved for those in times of panic and disaster. In one evening, I witnessed her finish a very large toque for her Dad's very large head and then stitch herself halfway through another hat for her soon-to-be brother-in-law.
Her penchant for all things knit means that I'm routinely filled with balls of yarn, half-completed projects and more needles than I can shake a...needle at. One would think a woman as clever as the Lady would understand the negative effects of loose, sharp needles on a particularly pretty Purse as myself, but apparently not. Get your head out of the clouds, woman! One needle made it way through my lining, perfectly positioned itself to escape a hole in my leather exterior and stabbed the Lady in the arm. She jumped, realized what happened, removed the needles and found a more suitable way to store her knitting supplies in her beloved purse. Knit too bad for a university graduate!
To conquer the doldrums, the Lady has resumed knitting with a fervor typically reserved for those in times of panic and disaster. In one evening, I witnessed her finish a very large toque for her Dad's very large head and then stitch herself halfway through another hat for her soon-to-be brother-in-law.
Her penchant for all things knit means that I'm routinely filled with balls of yarn, half-completed projects and more needles than I can shake a...needle at. One would think a woman as clever as the Lady would understand the negative effects of loose, sharp needles on a particularly pretty Purse as myself, but apparently not. Get your head out of the clouds, woman! One needle made it way through my lining, perfectly positioned itself to escape a hole in my leather exterior and stabbed the Lady in the arm. She jumped, realized what happened, removed the needles and found a more suitable way to store her knitting supplies in her beloved purse. Knit too bad for a university graduate!
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