Monday, June 15, 2009

Who's Your Favourite Gilmore Girl?†

When I was three, I decided I wanted a dog.

Mom and I got books from the library and walked the neighbour's dog and earnestly discussed the responsibilities of having a pet. When Mom felt I had a grasp on the enormity of the situation, we started looking for a puppy.

She took me hither and yon, all over the greater Traverse City metro are looking at puppies. I'd give a perfunctory look and go play with rocks. Mom was beginning to think I didn't really want a dog after all.

Until one gloomy Michigan autumn afternoon when I met Pardner.§ The woman with the herd of puppies brought Pardner out and I picked her up and walked to the car with her. Mom whispered, "Save this one for Christmas," over my howls and tears as she extracted the squirming pup from my frantic, tantrum tempered arms.

[SUMMARY: I know it when I see it.]

In 1993, I decided I wanted a hedgehog. I'd read about them. They seemed unusual, cute and apartment-friendly. So I checked out hedgehogs. They bored me and made me a little nervous and I was beginning to think I didn't really want a hedgehog after all.

Then one day at the mall, we stopped in to look at the hedgehogs at Pet City and I saw a tiny chocolate chip nose pressed against the glass of one cage.

"Can we take this one out for a few minutes?" I asked.

I sat on the floor and the Pet City drone put her on the floor in front of me. As she unrolled from her hedgehog defensive position, a crowd gathered. Frightened, she scampered over to me and climbed in my lap.

"She's mine. I'm taking her home." So Hooter the hedgehog came to live with me.

[SUMMARY: The heart wants what it wants.]

A year after Hooter died, Brother offered to get me a cat for my birthday.

"I don't even like cats."

"You don't like cats because you've never had a cat."

Finally, in September,# I decided I was ready to hit the Denver Dumb Friends League and find a cat or two.

Brother and I went to two different shelters numerous times. There were what I'm sure were some lovely cats, but it was all rather ho-hum. Brother was beginning to think I didn't really want a cat after all.

Then one day, I dropped in to the main branch of the DDFL and there they were, Lucy and Quill.††

"Can I meet those two?"

[SUMMARY: A pattern is emerging.]

Well, after I posted the pictures of my black 50s-replica purse, Nathan% thought I might like to join the rest of y'all in the 21st century. He asked astute questions about what I was looking for, offered some options with an eye to my reaction and began helping me look for a new purse.

Amid a flurry of, "I don't really like totes or hobos... Ooooh! Look at this gorgeous hobo I found at Nordstrom... and I'd totally carry this tote. Look at the colour!"‡‡ he sent numerous links to lovely bags of all shapes and sizes, and I'd say, "I like the shape, but what do we think of the colour?"

I suspect Nathan was beginning to think I didn't really want a new handbag after all.

Then he sent me the Kooba link.

"Yes! That's it! It's perfect!"

Meet Rory.

I ordered it Wednesday afternoon. It showed up Saturday.§§ I made loud, neighbour-disturbing girl noises and took pictures just before the storm hit.

It's ever-so-slightly wider and taller than my black one, and a couple of inches deeper. The purple-red-pink colour¶¶ is unusual enough to keep me interested, but rich enough to be wearable year-round.

The leather is soft and snuggleable and the lining is a heavy, heavy satin I rubbed between my fingers for comfort when it was thundering.

Look at the hardware!

And the detail!

And the colour!

And the texture!

And there are *pockets* inside!##

And my bag has its own bag,††† made of the same heavy satin as the lining.

ETA: Hans just said the lining is like the inside of a Miami strip club.

Yesterday evening, you could find me cuddled up with my Kooba. It was heartwarming.‡‡‡

One little problem: my cell phone now clashes with my purse.

I may have to go 3G earlier than expected.§§§

FOOTNOTE (crossed): Yeah, me too, but the purse is named Rory, not Lorelai. It's funny... I had a Gilmore Girls dream last night in which Lorelai commissioned Kirk to make a miniature copy of The Last Supper for Rory's dollhouse, only Kirk painted all the attendees from the back because he hadn't ever gotten the hang of noses. Also? He put them all in navy pinstripes. Flowing robes, but navy pinstriped flowing robes. So Lorelai was yelling at Kirk outside of Doose's Market and Taylor thought it would be a marvelous opportunity for a Stars Hollow festival and tried to rally the whole town into making Last Suppers for Rory. Meanwhile, Luke was quietly carving a magnificent Last Supper frieze under the guise of working on his boat in Lorelai's shed and Rory caught him and was enchanted and they bonded and he let her paint Judas's hair red. In the last scene, Taylor was at the Last Supper Festival with only a troop of Girl Scouts who had made Last Suppers out of macaroni.

I totally could've written for that show.

FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): The parents agreed on female, smallish, short-haired, mutt. Pardner turned out to be long-haired, of the type that picks up twigs and leaves. Three out of four ain't bad.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): As in, "Howdy, pardner!" Named her myself. I was three -- give me a break.

FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Well, a kind of a quick waddle. Hedgehogs have *very* short legs.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): After I had purchased several books and thoroughly researched the issue through a series of Internet searches and interviews. I have a problem.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Who, besides being my new best friend, is also my fairy godfather. I am utterly convinced I never would have found Rory without Nathan, and would have settled for a purse that was mostly good.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Or Garth and Axl as they were named at the time. It's terrible, the indignities some people impose on their pets.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): A fairy godfather of infinite patience. Rumour has it he banged his head against the wall more than once, yet he soldiered on.

§§FOOTNOTE (some days I get turned around): After telling Nathan I had serious buyer's remorse, because what ding dong orders the perfect bag, then clicks, "Yes, please send this to me by the slowest means you offer"?

¶¶FOOTNOTE (mulberries!): Mulberry!

##FOOTNOTE (they look like zippers): You might be surprised how many bags either have no pockets, only have one zippered pocket or don't mention pockets at all like they aren't important.

†††FOOTNOTE (studs and zipper pulls): You might also be surprised -- I was -- how many luxury accessories come with their own luggage. My Cole Haan shoes have their own flannel sleeping bags.

‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (no, THOSE look like zippers): A Girl and Her Kooba. Kooba Come Home. My Friend Kooba.

§§§FOOTNOTE (just one thing after the other): Which will delight Shanny to no end, I'm sure.

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