Several years ago, I went to my favorite flea market at our local fair grounds and spotted this bag:
I said, "This isn't a jewelry case. It's a handbag."
She shook her head and said, "No, it's a jewelry box for traveling."
I said, "Doesn't matter. I like it for a handbag." And that -- brushing hands -- was the end of that. Only I didn't carry the handbag or box again.
I did some internet research on the name imprinted in the box, Ronay, and found this was a New York manufacturer in the forties, fifties. In my quick search, I didn't find mine.
So have you carried something as a handbag when it was something else?
Which brings the question--is my heroine me? No. She has way better hair and can eat more chocolate than I ever could. She likes to soak in the tub and I am strictly a shower girl. My roomie during my single days looked totally different from Jenny in the books. And then there is the murder stuff. I've never ever seen a murder. I heard an almost one though.
When Handsome and I were newlyweds, I was in bed, reading and watching TV. Handsome was working on his computer. I heard a pop-pop-pop and asked him if he'd heard it. He said no, but then we heard a god-awful wailing. My bedroom windows looked into my neighbor's kitchen and I saw her on the phone. Handsome and I decided he would talk to her and they decided to go to the alley and check. They found a lady shot in the leg. Our neighbor called the police who showed with an ambulance. The cop pulled aside Handsome when he asked if the lady was okay, and the cop told him the lady wasn't a lady. Oh my!
And that's the closest I've been to murder.
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