Monday, May 11, 2015

Carry-All: a soup story

Because I am a hippie and also because I have a child in his second year of architecture school (cha-ching!) we are a one-car family. So I walk everywhere, and I needed something to sling over my back that would be big enough to carry all the usual stuff mom carries in her purse, plus a sweater and a book and an apple and my knitting, but I didn't want it to be so big that it looked like I was running away from home. Anna at Noodlehead designed this bag, which was perfect. Hers is full of very sew-y details and pockets and stuff, but as you know I am an impatient little magpie and just wanted a big enough bag, and I wanted it right now. I made a very simplified version of the larger tote, using a piece of gray corduroy from the crafty thrift store for the exterior, a really pretty but too-small skirt (also thrifted) for the interior, and a belt that came with a pair of pants I no longer have for the strap, which seems extremely thrifty. I made my usual leather loop closure and used a bargain bin button from the stash. It worked great, and everything fit in there. Everything, including... (cue fateful music) dinner.

Here's what all was in the bag: wallet, keys, sunglasses, phone, earbuds for listening to podcasts on phone, gum, apple, little container of almond butter, two interiors magazines belonging to Michelle, two paper patterns for sewing raincoats for dogs belonging to Robin, and a book. Oh, and a quart size zip-top bag full of chicken noodle soup.

I know what you're thinking! Honestly, I completely agree with you. We've all seen the commercials! We know those bags are supposed to be strong! I saw a lady on television fill a zip-top bag with spaghetti and shake it upside down! Friends, listen to me and learn from my mistakes: do not believe everything you see on television. People in my house were dubious about my putting a bag of soup into my purse, but I was in one of those confident hurries where we just needed to mobilize so we could get everyone out of the house in order, and heads were shaking, and people were saying they hoped that zip-top bag of soup wouldn't open up inside my purse, and I was saying, "It's fine, sheesh," and then they were saying, "I smell onions" and "what's that all over your lap?" and "Your purse is full of soup, and not in the way you think it is." Things, nice things, things belonging to other people and loaned to me in good faith, were floating in soup. Inside my purse. My beautiful daughter, visiting from Philadelphia just in the nick of time to witness her mother's latest caper gone wrong, could not stop laughing. She did not say "I told you not to put a bag of soup into your purse" but she surely was thinking it.

So I had to wash it already. A couple times.