Secret Pocket

I have a secret….. I am afraid of my purse.

No, it’s not the stale Cheerios scattered at the bottom that gives me the creeps. Not the lost, dirty Kleenex that puts my hair on ends. And, it is not the gum clinging to the side that gives me the willies either.

It’s the secret pocket.

When I purchased this bag there were no warnings about a secret pocket. No tags advising to purchase at your own risk. No buyer beware. Nothing.

Truthfully, I had no idea that a secret pocket existed until …well, things began to happen.

It started with some spare change at Starbucks.

“Oh, thanks! I’ve been looking for the Nebraska quarter!” I naively chirped, tossing the coins into the “to be filed later” section of my purse. (Yes, that means they would be rubbing elbows with the “to be filed later” crumbling Cheerios partying in the deepest crevices of my purse.)

For days, I heard the coins jingle in my purse.

“Gotta file those..”

Then, one afternoon, I dumped my purse out…well, OK, my toddler dumped my purse out…… in the middle of the grocery cart, but that’s another story. The coins were gone. Missing. MIA. They had simply vanished. After a panicked swipe of my toddler’s mouth, I dismissed the odd occurrence. I filed it under “weird” …oh, and embarrassing…. and continued about my day.

Then, we had the lipstick incident. Things took a turn for the worse.

It was a certain lipstick that played a “now you see me, now you don’t” game with me in my purse for the better part of the week. Ordinarily, I would have just shrugged off the mystery and run to the local Walgreen’s for another quick purchase at the Wet and Wild display counter, but, Heck, budget’s tight these days! Gotta stretch that $1.99 as far as we can go…

So, here we go …another dumping of the purse. After shooing away a furry, 8 legged friend…or two…that had apparently taken up residence ….and averting my eyes from the gelatinous, gummy, quivering mass that seemed to be mating with my day planner, I came to the quick conclusion that this lipstick was NOT there!

My temper began to boil just beneath my “I’m-a-nice-person-who-once-worked-with-disadvantaged-youths” façade.

“Where is that freaky froupy nickel knucklebucker….” I searched my imagination for the most colorful swear words in my (limited and shrinking, thank you) vocabulary.

After a good working over, I tossed the purse to the floor. There was a clunk sound as it hit the ground. A clunk sound that shouldn’t be heard when yarn macramé hits linoleum. Grabbing the bag by her ( I hope it was a her) innards, I turned the whole kit and caboodle inside out to discover a hole in the stained, satiny inner lining.

A hole, as in a black hole, a time warp, a worm hole in space? Perhaps?

Peering through this hole, I found my lipstick! She was floating in a sea of Cheerios, between the macramé and satin lining, clinging desperately to a Nebraska quarter.

I was so happy to see her that I immediately swept her in my arms and kissed her. I applied her to my dry, colorless lips and promised to be a better Wet and Wild lipstick owner.

A hole in the lining! HA! Explains everything. Now, if someone could just explain the ransom note pinned to my lipstick’s chest, we’ll have a mystery solved.

Purse mafia, ya think?

This is a re-post. All this week I will be posting my favorite posts of 2009. Have a great New Year!

Hiss!

There’s something wrong with my mouth. It appears to have sprung a leak.

My days have been peppered with a variety of hisses lately.

“Shhhhhhh…Baby’s sleeping”

“Hisssssss, not in front of the children!!”

“Shuuushh! Do you need a time out?”

Of course, my years spent in the classroom afforded me lots of practice.

“Hisss! No talking!”

“SHhhh! You are speaking outta turn.”

“Shuuuuush! We are in the library!”

Hubby says I have two mouths, one for talking and one for…SHHH! The bloggers are listening.

All shushes are not the same.

* Machine Gun Shush- Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh- watch out! There’s a bullet in each syllable. Mama ain’t happy.

* Lullaby Shush- huuuuush… a kinder gentler shush, the place where all shushes are born; commonly echoed in maternity wards and baby nurseries.

* Librarian Shush- ssssssssshsssssshSHH!!- a long, continuous,snarling shush gaining in acceleration and followed by a sharp punctuation mark of a shush; translates to a firm warning, often precedes machine gun shush.

* Mommy Shush-ssssh-ssssh-sssssh-sssh-ssssh- a long series of rhythmic shushes, a reassuring hiss, An “Are you OK?” shush; usually accompanied by the patting of a back and smoothing of a toddler’s hair; often heard under playground equipment, bottom of stairwells and ends of long driveways.

* Daddy Shush-SSSHHH*T! – A firm, crisp shush, meant as a quick warning, it’s back end is blended with an expletive; often heard as a teeth clenched warning such as “Watch it!!...It’s gonna….SSSSHHH*T!”

* TSSSK-TSSSK-Tsssk- a cousin of Shhh. Translated to “No, no, not now.” Or “Don’t touch.” And occasionally meant to be an “Outta the way pronto” command.

* Shhhh should not be confused with the distant relative ssssssss, which is a crisis hiss, an ouch, breath holding inhalation hiss.

I am a talented husher. My knowledge and application of said hisses shouldn’t be underestimated. I am always ready to lend a hand at story time in the public library. I am equally available for crowd control at the bookstore. I am lots of fun at the movies. I am currently working on the ability to throw a hiss to the far side of a room without moving my lips (advanced hushing). It just might make me the fun one at parties.

Hiissss!

This is a re-post. It's Mamma Talk's year end review. I will be posting my favorite posts of 2009 this week. Feel free to join me. I'd love to read your favorite post!

Holiday Diva

This Holiday Spirit sure is a bossy one, isn’t she?

She storms in on Black Friday, demanding and shouting orders.

First, she does a number on your pocket book.

“Buy this. Buy that.”

Then, she has a thing or two to say about your home décor.

“More lights! More tinsel! More garland.…And, I don’t care if it’s your house, the electronic LED Santa is going over there!”

She monopolizes your social calendar.

“The office holiday party is this Friday, Breakfast with Santa is next Saturday….and don’t forget caroling with my mother tonight!!”

She prods you with guilt…

“You’re really going to just walk right past that Salvation Army guy?”

Takes over your kitchen…

“Out. I’m making Granny’s secret fruitcake recipe.”

Critiques your mood…..

“My, my….someone’s feeling a little Grinchy this morning!”

Piles on the homework…

“How are those Christmas cards coming?”

And, just when you’re ready to snap….Just when you’re about to wring her jolly, little neck….

She says the same thing…

“But, it’s Christmas!!”

Then, we nod our head in agreement, sob in our eggnog, and hop back on that holiday treadmill.

Sigh.

Don’t worry. Baby New Year is coming.

Hear he’s a real bundle of laughs.

New Year’s Resolutions, anyone?

An Affair to Remember...

What started out as a one man party has now turned into an army….

An army of single socks mingling in my bottom drawer commiserating in their loneliness.

I always keep them, you know.

If they don’t find their mate straight out of the dryer, I let them stick around.

I look them in the eye and tell them someday their prince will come. I promise them that if they go about their lives, chin up, there eventually will be a lover’s reunion.

“Don’t settle,” I remind them when I see one of them eyeing a less than desirable suitor.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” I lecture as I untangle a clingy polyester blend from a cotton athletic sock.

Other times, a different reminder is needed. “Let’s do try to stay within our own league,” I whisper to a worn out wooly who was whistling at a satiny hose.

I’ve always had a tender heart for the lovelorn. But, I do think things may have gotten out of hand.

It was a late Saturday night. Hubby and I had fallen asleep early watching a flick. I was lost in a dream about….ah, no matter.

Suddenly, I heard some rowdiness coming from the bottom drawer.

The closer I got, the louder it became.

I clearly could make out Disco music mixed with laughter and some….muffled groans?

I opened the drawer a crack and was horrified.

I don’t want to get into details, but let’s just say I have quite the wild crew residing in my bottom drawer.

Might be time to weed out the undesirables.

Anyone interested in a fishnet thigh hi?

She seems to be the root to this madness….been like a cat in heat since she’s lost her better half….

The Stranger on my Tree...

There was an ornament, red and shiny, that was hanging from our Christmas tree.

It certainly looked innocent enough, hanging there as ornaments do, going about its business looking jolly and bright.

However, I knew better.

I had never laid eyes on this particular Christmas bulb before. This festive, shiny ball was a stranger to me. And, here it was rubbing elbows with my Baby’s First Christmas and hubby’s second grade stained glass candy cane.

“Where the heck did that come from?” I inquired, finger pointing.

“Dunno. The box from the attic?” hubby suggested.

Now, as the official ornament Queen, I know what is in each and every holiday box. Hubby was never a collector of things merry and bright. I am the one who carried the Christmas….um….baggage….so to speak…..into our union. I started my collection as a school teacher, amassing ornaments from my third grade students every December. And, here I am today still gleefully buying tinkling holiday balls to adorn our tree.

This ornament, my friends, did not belong with my beloved Christmas doo-dads.

This was a party crasher.

“I’ve never seen that ball in my life.”

“Well…….ah…….OK,” said hubby.

However, neither of us wanted to show the poor thing the door. Didn’t seem like the charitable thing to do. So, it was decided, that we would embrace the ornament as if it were one of our own. Provide it with a family. Give it a home.

Or at least allow it to hang out for awhile. Ahem.

So, we did just that. And, all was well.

Until it went missing one day.

My initial suspicions were correct.

It was Santa spyware.

Equipped with a miniature camera and a microphone, that darn thing went double agent on us. It recorded our every move. It knew when we were sleeping. It knew when we were awake. It knew when we were bad and good.

Better watch out, for Goodness sake!

Don’t tell me, you still believe Santa has a magic telescope, do ya?

Merry SITSmas

So many different ways to say Merry Christmas this holiday season...

Merry Christmas

Joyeux Noel

Feliz Navidad

od Jul and (Och) Ett Gott Nytt Å

Zalig Kerstfeast

Mele Kalikimaka

Feliz Natal

Merry Keshmish

But, most of all....Merry SITSmas!

Be sure to visit the SITS Girls if you haven't already. It is a wonderful blogging community with giveaways and blogathons. Lots of fun!

Conversations with a Boogie Man

OK, Mr. Boogie Man, I’ve had it up to here with all the midnight Shenanigans!

You’ve frightened my gaggle of gals to no ends. They’ve been spooked. Freaked. Scared out of their wits. You’ve spread the heebie jeebies around adequately enough.

Now, I’m pulling the plug on this operation.

Time to pull up stakes and head outta Dodge.

You’re not wanted here.

Go on now.

Get out before I throw you out…

What?

Your feelings?

Well…ah…no. I didn’t consider your feelings even remotely, now that you’re asking.

Oh…..

Now. Now. There. There.

Ok, Mr. Boogie Man. Don’t get all flustered.

It’s your behavior that we despise.

Ouch.

Strong word, “despise”?

OK. Let me re-phrase. It’s your behavior that we are not fond of.

You?

Well, you’re top drawer. As far as Boogie Men go, you’re the finest of the fine. As a matter of fact, we wish you much success in your next venture.

Can I help ya pack?

Here, take a Kleenex……

Sigh.

Bullies.

They’re all the same.

Big sissies.