The Best Sort-Of-Boy

This is a long story with probably way-too-many details. But anyway.

The other day heatherfeather talked about her sort-of-boy. (And she was meaning, really, a boy that's sort-of hers. I'm using it here to mean the sort-of boy my boy is). And I've gotta tell you, I have just the best sort-of-boy.

Some background:

I'm not much of a girly-girl. I don't spend time doing my hair (some days I don't realize until the evening that I haven't even combed it! I just pull it back in a clasp and am done with it). I don't wear jewelry. I don't spend a lot of time on my clothes. All these things are true but it doesn't mean I don't feel badly about it. I wish I was that kind-of-girl. For my husband's sake, I wish I was. And it doesn't mean I can't manage it when it's called for, but it'd be nice to look well-put-together every day. Alas.

The point of all that is this: despite all that makes me a tomboy, there is one thing that keeps me a girl: I LOVE purses. I love the different shapes, the textures, the colors. One could never be enough (One! I can hear my husband yelp in disbelief. Try twenty! Thirty!) In my defense, I buy purses cheaply. I go to Ross or Marshalls or T.J. Maxx or I buy them dirt cheap wherever else. It's far more satisfying to find "the" purse (of the month) for bargain prices.

So, for several days, I've had my eye on this purse. I walked into TJ Maxx, milled about the purses a bit and immediately spied it: the perfect purse. It was The One. We connected on that visceral purse level. Me and the purse: a match. Until I glanced at the price tag. ARGH!!! Why do I always make a beeline for the practically-most-expensive purse in the store?? Why do they call so loudly to me? So with resignation, I bid it farewell. Someday. Someday I'll purchase a purse such as this but certainly not now. Maybe when the kids are gone and I'm working and making scads of money (hah!) I'll sport me such a purse.

Last night, we were talking a bit about purses. My in-laws are here, having just returned from Siberia and Ukraine where they've been for four months, and my mother-in-law was showing me a beautiful little purse she bought at a shop in Bratsk. After admiring it, I mentioned the purse I'd been lusting after, described it a bit, and we moved on.

Imagine my utter shock when later that night, before I went to bed, I glanced down and saw THE PURSE sitting by the couch. I was completely and utterly confounded. My husband and oldest son were sitting around, watching this unfold. (My mother-in-law, who knew what was coming, had given up on my noticing it and had gone to bed). What was THE PURSE doing by my couch? I couldn't wrap my mind around it. My husband meanwhile was laughing at the blank look on my face, seeing the wheels just a-spinning. You see, I had never thought for a moment that he would go get it. I didn't even think he'd been listening when I'd been talking about the purse. After all, a purse is a purse is a purse. I hadn't even gone into very much detail. I never thought a thing about it when he went to run an errand. So since there had never been the glimmer of a thought of that purse being mine---certainly not purchased by my husband---I could not get what I was seeing to make sense.

It only took a minute, I'm sure, but those seconds of confusion lasted long. I don't think I've ever been so successfully surprised by anything. What a guy!!! Not only did he think I'm going to go get this because she wants it but he actually found it!! I don't think he's probably ever stepped foot in this store before, and I'm sure he imagined that he'd see a small row of purses and the The One would be obvious. Instead, he was greeted by rows and rows of purses. And still he found it! He said that as soon as he saw it, he knew it had to be the one. It was me. I knew it had my name on it.

He accumulated buckets of husband points for this! But that's just the sort-of-boy I have. Lucky me.

And here's just a little gander: