I Shall Call it My Funeral Purse

6:20: home from work and running up the steps 2 at a time. The funeral started at 7:00, and was who-knows-where in Athens. Threw a black outfit onto my bed, then onto my body. Then deodorant (or did I forget that?) Brushed my teeth, used salicylic acid cleansing pads on my face.

6:29 out the door: hoping my brother knows how to find this place. Stepped into Josh's car and used smoothing cream on my frizzy curls. Moved my wallet and a few important items from my messenger bag style purse and into a classy black clutch.

6: 46 made it to Ziegler's Funeral Home: breathed a sigh of relief to be early rather than late.
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I never met him, but Ross was in his 60's, and mentally handicapped all his life. His mom, who he had lived with all his life, died last month. Everyone said, "He is happier in heaven."

...I'm really glad we went, because I love his family a lot, and staying helped them to know it.
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"We are ready to start the service," the funeral director said into his mouthpiece, so everyone was seated, and the piano player (Tabitha Scott) began a song.

Everyone sat quietly except the lady on the other side of Josh. She started emptying her purse's contents onto her lap, then shoved it across his lap and into mine, "You like small purses?" she whispered loudly.

"Uh huh," then trying to be polite whispered, "Yours is nice,"

"Enjoy it," she said, adding emphatically, "I can NOT carry a small purse!"

'Oh, she is giving this to me,' it sunk in.

What do you say to someone who gives you a Prada purse in the middle of a funeral?

I panicked inside.

You know how it is when people give you something (especially something expensive) and expect you to fall madly in love with the awesomeness of the wonderful amazing gift and will periodically ask to make sure you tuck it into bed with you after kissing it goodnight? But you are just 'meh' and wondering how fast you can toss it without them knowing.

I was afraid it would be like that.

So I said, "Are you sure? It's nice, but I don't know for sure if I'd carry it."

She grinned and replied, "That's fine. You don't have to keep it. Give it away. I don't care. Just take it."

I said thanks, and she turned her attention back to the funeral.

While I stole glances at the purse in my lap.

'Structured' was my first thought. 'Alligator leather' was my second. Then 'Not my style.'

'But oddly enough I rather like it.'

-Happiness


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When I got home Glory came to see me, and I asked her to take pictures of the shirt/suit jacket I wore to the funeral. (I plan to alter it then blog about my alterations.) I didn't notice when I put it on, and dashed out the door, but the fit is awkward :(

Then I took a few pictures of my funeral purse, and I told her how it come to me. And we hopped all around my room laughing hysterically.

I told her why I needed to alter the shirt and we laughed more. Then took lots of pictures of ourselves, and decided, "We are beautiful in all of them."

"It's your fault!" Shalom said Sunday, "Leah is vain because you are always telling her she is beautiful." She shook her head reprovingly.

Me? I grinned a mile wide and told her I was proud of myself for that.

-Happiness

April 2014 Edit: I love this purse now! Having it helped me branch out to try wearing styles that I otherwise would've seen as 'cute, but not me.' (Still  love my story even more, though.) I have it set aside to take to a shop for small repairs atm, because I used it so much. I especially like to carry it to funerals lol!