Mission Purple Purse

Yesterday morning my wife and I went out for breakfast at the cafe in the Charlotte Street Arts Center here in Fredericton. The Arts center is an old elementary school which has been converted into visual and performing arts classes. When we walked in, the halls were crowded with young mothers and fathers waiting for their young children there for ballet lessons. It's a really cool place.

After we ordered, I realized that I needed something from my wife purse which was left in the car. I walked back through the halls past all the young mothers and father standing around waiting for their children, out the door and to the car to get my wife's purse. Now, I am not a man's man by any means... I have no problem with the role reversal that often occurs in my marriage and in my house. I have no problem picking up feminine products at the store for my wife and daughter and I even like to do chick flicks with my wife.

I'm very confident with who I am, but when I got to the car and picked up my wife's purple purse, I suddenly felt self-conscious about carrying it back through the halls of the old school past all the young parents. Okay... how would I carry it? I didn't have a jacket on, so i couldn't hide it. I could sling the whole thing over my shoulder, but that might look contrived and besides, if everything started falling out as I was walking in, I'd not have saved myself any embarrassment at all. I could put it over my shoulder and maybe I could get away with carrying  it like a briefcase... but who would I be kidding, no one carries a miniature purple briefcase, especially with big silver buckles. There had to be a way for me to get this thing past all the young parents with dreams of their children performing Swan Lake with the Royal Ballet in London. I could try to hide it behind my back and slowly bring it around front as I pass people, but there were way too many people for me to pull that off. By this point, I was getting paranoid... and it was cold outside. I could just carry it... but no, that was just the thing that I was trying to avoid. With the thought of my breakfast getting cold and my wife thinking that maybe a pack of hungry moose got me, I decided what to do. I grabbed both handles in my right hand and squeezed them tightly like it was the wild animal that I just killed and was bringing home as a prize to my family for dinner. I held my breath, swung open the front door of the center and stomped through the hall one more time with a scowl on my face, showing no mercy to any of the young parents or even younger ballerinas in the making. I made it... I got through the hall with purse in hand and none of my masculinity compromised. I sat down at the table, handed my wife her purse and let out my breath. I was safe once again... mission accomplished!!

My wife took the purse, reached in and pulled out some Splenda from her purse and I put it in my chamomile tea... hey, I'm watching my figure, you know.