Alaskanmama

At my weekly coffee date with the girls I was searching for a pen in my purse when I discovered something much more disturbing, and yet apparently normal for a mother of small children. French fries. Inside. My purse.

BLEGH!

I have never had a purse get this dirty, or if I have (because I am a highly unorganized and cluttered person) I don’t remember (which is also because I’m almost as forgetful as unorganized). I got a look of understanding from some of the ladies and a “I bet I have some of those in mine too” from others.

So this morning I did what any normal messy person would do; I emptied the contents onto the kitchen table, then turned it upside down over the sink and using the sprayer, hosed down the inside. Obviously this isn’t a Coach Bag, but a very rugged REI, rubber on the inside, type of bag. Cute but utilitarian (much like this author).

After hosing, drying and reorganizing (which is the short clean way of saying I dumped the french fries and other oddities) I found a little bottle of essential oils that my mom had given me forever ago. It’s a group of scents that is supposed to give you a sense of Joy. I took a big whiff and started giggling (obviously it’s doing what it’s supposed to) because it smells exactly like Trix.

Which makes me think of my childhood best friend and our favorite joke.

There once was an island called Trid. The people on the island were called Trids (duh). There was a huge mountain that divided the island in two and on each side was a different economic demographic (I obviously did not use that term in 6th grade). A Rabbi came to give humanitarian aid to the poorer side of the island and upon his first visit to the other side he learned how unique their method of travel was.

At the top of the mountain was a monster and as a Trid of Socially higher class and economic status would reach the top the monster would kick them down the opposite side of the mountain. Then at the end of the day he would repeat the kicking, only in the direction of the richer side. With the exception of the Rabbi, whom the monster would repeatedly pass up.

So one day the Rabbi finally got up the nerve to approach the monster and ask him exactly why it was he did not kick the Rabbi down the mountain. And the monster replied, “Silly Rabbi. Kicks are for Trids.”

HA HA HA HAAAAAAA!! God I love that joke.