This past Saturday, we all met at my parent's house. My sister brought my nieces and my brother-in-law brought my Dad because they had an errand to run before arriving. As my Dad was exiting the vehicle, my sister and I looked over and she exclaimed, "That's my purse". Sure enough, my father was carrying a multi-colored, velvet Hobo bag.
My sister asked her husband why Dad had the purse and he said that he grabbed it on the way out of the house. I was really enjoying this sight because I'm bad that way, but my sister ruined the moment when she informed my father that he was carrying a woman's purse. I don't think he'll be using it anymore, although he didn't have any qualms about packing some more belongings in it before he left.
When I mentioned this incident to my dear friend Barbara, I expressed my disappointment that my sister had immediately told my father that his "carryall" was a purse. She was very sympathetic and said, "Sure, you wanted to spare his feelings". Hell, no! I wanted to enjoy the sight and possibly capture it on camera. Did I mention that Barbara's a really good person?
But then again, that's our family. If I didn't have these moments of the absurd, I probably wouldn't be half as sane (or is it insane?) as I am.