Powered by Blogger.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011

The Five Things You Meet in My Purse

There’s a blog baton being passed around, called “Five Things You Don’t Leave the House Without.” At first I thought, Why anyone would want to read Purse. Cell phone. Keys. Altoids. APStylebook over and over again? Humans are not that different; We’re all going to leave the house with the same five things, right?


I looked at several of these lists online and I found some people don’t leave the house without:


My butane cordless curling iron

Rubber band on the wrist


Vera Bradley key chain

Crochet hook and yarn

Pair of pants


Pepto, Tums, Immodum, Rolaids, Tissue

Xanax, Prozac, gum, My Pomeranian, My car

Life in the Mom Lane tagged me in the relay. This must be List Week in blogging, because several other bloggers I follow have resorted to lists. I would have done Facebook’s 65 Things About Me if I hadn’t gotten this tag from Life in the Mom Lane, so be grateful. The first question in 65 Things is “What’s the first thing you wash in the shower?” (It’s not a good sign when your answer to that or any question is “You don’t want to know.”) I might be wrong, but I don’t think my readers want to know the chronology of my hygiene. I’m of the age where there’s not enough waxing and too much tweezing going on.

Austin Powers had his own list: Testicles. Spectacles. Wallet and Watch.

And my mom had a list that she recited every time she got ready to walk out the door: Cigarettes. Glasses. Money.

Despite the fact that I have become my mother, and when I look in the mirror, she’s there looking back at me, wearing my clothes, my Five Things list is vastly different from her Cigarettes Glasses Money:

My iPhone, which doubles as my address book, Internet machine, calendar, GPS, camera, compass, photo album, Kindle book reader, flashlight and Demon game player. I’m told I can also use it to make actual telephone calls, but hey, I don’t want to get too cocky. My iPhone makes me feel like April Dancer, the Girl from U.N.C.L.E.

A debit card, which has single-handedly turned me into Jane Jetson. Money? What’s that, Mom? I recently took the final step and no longer carry around my checkbook and record my debit transactions. It’s all online, baby. (But I do record everything later, at home, when it’s not an inconvenience to others.)

Car key fob to my car which is turning me into I Dream of Jeannie. If I approach my car, it unlocks when it senses the fob. I push the Start button and my car starts, just knowing that the fob is somewhere on my person. Possessing the fob is like having Open Sesame written on my forehead. I love the fob. The fob brings magical powers.

Reading glasses, which instead of making me feel like Tina Fey make me feel more like Ted Kennedy and not the young, wavy-haired, cute one. Someday soon I hope to get Lasik surgery so that I can only have four things when I leave the house.

Membership cards, which bring me right back down to earth and make me feel like myself again. Democratic National Committee, the library, the liquor store frequent buyer club (I get points), organ donor, voter registration, and Beall’s Monday Club (“For Customers 50 and Better!)

So no cigarettes, Pomeranians, Xanax or butane curling irons for me. I’m just a simple girl with five simple things . . . that make me feel like a fictional character.