The Pink
Purse and the Mystery Dimension
Rule
number one: Never ask your husband to
find whatever you need out of your purse.
It frightens, daunts him and frustrates this sweet soul and companion of
your life.
I
have a favorite pink purse with leopard print on the inside. It has a long pink
shoulder strap that helps the purse to hug my form, freeing my hands for
picking up items of desire, delight and beauty when I am shopping. It is a simple purse with two large zippered
areas and a side zipper on the front of the purse. It is the bane of my husband’s existence.
However, true to his kind nature and great devotion to the happiness of his
spouse, he has on occasion fought with the intricacy of the pink purse while
seeking lost keys for the panicked wife who is in a rush to get out the door or
even the cell phone that is ringing on and on somewhere in the depths of my
purse. So he searches with his very
large hands holding this symbol of femininity looking like an elephant perched
upon a nail head hoping that no one is around to see him least he fall off of
the nail. It is the same for my husband
with the pink item, I can number the times that he has actually refused to hold
my purse on one hand. It is generally in
a large department store but sometimes he just sits across from another man who
has been dragged along with his significant person. He will have exchanged
looks with the poor soul who is also holding a purse and possibly a number of
womanly garments while sharing the look that all men seem to share while
shopping. It is a look of deep resignation to the task of dutiful waiting as
most pack mules do. Generally, what gets them out the door and driving in the
rain, snow and sleet is the promise of food somewhere along the way. At least,
that works with my husband. Food has
always been a great motivator.
While
I was walking and talking with one of the nurses on a break from work and the
constant rain we had been having, she mentioned a friend with a baby who had a
diaper bag in which she asked her husband to get something that she
needed. He was lost with no idea where
to search despite her instructions. The
nurse friend that I was walking with said that she knew instantly where to find
whatever had been needed. We sighed and
laughed about the helplessness of our mates and some men in general as we
continued walking, gazing out at the horizon of the gray ocean while wandering
back to the clinic.
Perhaps the mystery dimension
of the purse is akin to my mind as when I start midway in a paragraph in the
conversation that I am often having with my man. He is at a completely lost in
the conversation despite his loose attentiveness to what I might be saying.
But I can truthfully
say that he is a marvel to me as he sets about putting together the new
television and its stand, the cables, the various cords that are involved. Perhaps, I could do it, I know that I could,
but really it just does not interest me very much beyond the extent of holding
the flashlight, giving words of encouragement so he decides not to throw the
new item out the door in somewhat frustration.
He swears at inanimate objects, he comes by it naturally, the swearing,
it has been inherited from his father according to his mother. My husband said all men do this, he said that
our contractor was doing a great job of word usage while under my house working
on the remodel of my small bathroom. I am not able to say as the contractor was always very polite when talking to me and I never heard it. It must come easier to men but I don’t know
for I am a throw back and tend to use milder words when frustrated.
As for my husband,
when it comes to dealing with the needs and wants of others, he is a saint
though he tells me that,” He ain’t no saint.” For example, I try and have a picture of
something that relates to whatever I happen to be writing about at the
time. Hence the photo of the back of my
husband with the pink purse, originally, I had thought to photograph the purse
by itself, then possibly having it draped on my body but as the direction of
what of I was writing continued, it became more apparent that my sweetheart
should be included in the picture. Mild
protests came from him as I explained what I wanted handing the pink purse over
to him.
“But they will know that it is me,” he said, “by
the T-shirt that I am wearing.”
“No, they won’t.”
I replied. “I will be just taking a picture of the purse.”
After a big sigh,
he flung the pink purse over his shoulders and turned his back to me.
“That is perfect,
it is just what I want and I don’t even need another picture.” I voiced after
clicking my shot.
So many things in
our life comes to us by what seems to be an accident but as I look at my life,
my husband with the pink purse resting on his broad back I am quite taken aback
at the perfection of the world. Perhaps, it would be easier if we could just look in the pink purse with the mystery dimension
and find the answers?
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