Living out of a suitcase…sort of

Our home of twelve years was sold last June.

I’m not due to retire until this coming January, God willing.

I’m living at my late parent’s house. it is truly transitional housing.

What does this spell?

My handbag is my life.

Women accessorize.It’s a given. Fashion’s fifth avenue has more than enough magazines where you can blink and you still won’t miss the newest handbags on the editorial fashion pages, if not the ads.We are taught that it is an extension of ourselves. Sure it is, until we have our first chiropractic visit or physical therapy trying to regain a normal state in our shoulders, arms or back.Yes, you, reading this rubbing your sore shoulder. You know what I am talking about.

Most working women have their lives, to some degree in a handbag.After all, we carry them, we keep our transit fares in them, our building passes in them, house keys in them, make-up in them, cell phone, e-reader, and so on, and so on…you catch my drift?

Well, being between two houses, I am in a constant state of,” Oh, I might need this:I’ll put it in my bag.” That’s starts one thing, and as Jim likes to call it, you end up having an avalanche effect.For example, as soon as I post this blog, I have to figure out to get a few pounds off the handbag.**chuckling**I know many women, myself included, who could clean out their handbag twice weekly and still wake up in the morning wondering what gremlin got in and throws even more stuff in our handbags.

I thought I was saying something when I went to a Vera Bradley bag, thinking cloth has to be lighter than leather.Yeah, right.The material doesn’t matter,when you put your belongings into it.

I am going to post this, and then,well, my handbag is not the fabric of the picture below but it is of this style, which of course, is so serviceable that Vera Bradley discontinued it!**sigh**
I will go and try to lighten the load.Of course, it goes without saying that I look forward to the time I’ll be living in our new home and won’t need my “stuff’ clogging up my handbag.

Feel free to share your handbag stories with me. I’m all ears.

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Daily Public Transit-The Good,The Bad, The Ugly

I am climbing on my soapbox again to talk about my daily commute.

Back in my prior life, when we lived two blocks away from the train station, life was sunny. A nice morning train, a brisk walk to work;in short, no worries.

Then our house sold and we moved two miles further from the train.There lies the rub: the bus.

I honestly hate the commute. In order to get into the city I take the bus onto an expressway, where I lose forty-five minutes to an hour one way.It irks me because it is time I’ll never get back again in my life.Traffic usually sucks.If you aren’t entertained by someones’ blow by blow description of how their life is going, how their **fill in the blank here: sex life, date life,third marriage is going, well,I know, I know, read or something** Well, there’s only so much to read or listen to. I refuse to be chained to Verizon and use my hot spot to be on-line. Then, when the bus reaches center city, I get off the bus and wait for a second bus.

Did I mention I hate personal trivial conversations on a cell phone on public transportation?
**Sigh**

Fortunately, I hope to God I get through this last stretch before I retire taking public transit. Pretty sad when I get to “treat” myself, thanks to my Flip Fitness class and physical therapy,and walk to the train station to get on a train that spares me the expressway.The indignity is I have to get OFF the train to get back on a bus to get home.

I won’t miss this at all.

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Transportation Cocoon

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We had a little stretch of weather the past two days.

As George Costanza from Seinfeld would say “The sea was angry that day, my friends.”Well, we have had some angry weather here around quitting time. You go and join the rest of your fellow office workers waiting for a bus to go home.
Winds blowing,trees bending,rain starting,juggling of umbrella positioning so you don’t bang into anyone…get the picture?

Then,up the street,comes your bus.

You have never seen so many people get on a bus in a quiet and orderly fashion, so happy to be drying off in that cocoon that only public transportation can offer.No glares of folks whose toes have been squashed, backpacks swung around. Forget the fact the entire bus knows that we will be stuck on a major traffic artery for at least an hour to get home in this rain.

Thank goodness for the bus!

Just patiently waiting

In-epta struck again this morning.

I went a few blocks on the bus when a supervisor called the bus driver over. It would appear that he had called the supervisor to tell him he had trouble with a ride mirror on the front of the bus. It was determined that the bus would only go another 10 blocks and stop before going on the expressway.

The driver was soft-spoken,and to everyone getting on the bus he announced how far the bus was going.Great. Except I figured I’d try to get the train. I needed to get to block 9 in 12 minutes and the way this driver was spreading the news, it was hard for me to be patient.

It paid off. I made the train with four minutes to spare….whew!

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