My first purse was a quilted patchwork beauty handcrafted in Grade 9 Home-Ec. It still houses sweet sixteen birthday cards, old love letters, and a vintage diary. Throughout the years, my handbags have ranged in size from a roomy carry-all requiring its own car seat, to an envelope clutch that fits two stamps and a bandaid.
The contents always vary, but at any given time you can find the following random items:
Enough Robaxacet to render you spineless.
A coat check tag leading you to believe that somewhere out there is a jacket with abandonment issues.
‘Muff on the Move’ sani-wipes.
Paint colour swatches for a pipe-dream DIY project.
Enough quarters, nickels, and dimes to be considered a prison sock weapon.
A tangled web of hair elastics matted with a tri-coloured array of blonde, brunette, and gray.
A small stack of business cards with no context or memory of their intended purpose.
Lipstick 
Lori – Seven colours, two glosses, and a stain.
Val – One tinted Burt’s Bees balm.
Mints to mask the maui wowie.
Poop bags for my dog, but if need be…
Sunglasses *see mints to mask maui wowie.
A small flask in case the kid’s Christmas concert is a dud.
One double-A battery, yet to be determined if it’s dead or alive.
Three hard candies snatched from a seniors home reception desk.
A pair of readers for prescriptions, price tags, and poorly lit menus.
Amelia Earhart and Jimmy Hoffa!
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