Sleeping with the Enemy

I think I may have mentioned (more than once!) that I love to read Heather Armstrong's blog at Dooce.com. Her site has been a big part of what inspired me to start writing a personal blog. I've been slowly making my way through her archives when I have time. I'm up to December of 2006 and I ran across this post. Heather writes a newsletter to her daughter every month, and this one mentions her daughter's obsession with purses. She then goes on to detail how her daughter brings everything she likes into the crib with her. She says "This month your fascination with purses has turned into a full-blown obsession, and sometimes when we leave the house you have to bring three or four of them with you, one around your neck, two hung over your right shoulder, one clutched in your hand. You also like to sleep with them."

Now, I nearly spit out my pinor noir laughing when I read this, not because of Heather's daughter, but beacuse of me and my Mama Faye.

My Mama Faye was my mom's mom. She died when I was five, but I have all these incredibly vivid memories of her. Now, first let me pause to address something important. Mama is pronounced "Maw-maw" where my family comes from (West BY-GOD! Virginia). I can't stand to think of any of you reading this and thinking "Mah-mah" or any of that crap to yourselves. Not ok. Not right. Don't do it. Stop it.

There are several ridiculous stories that have been retold hundreds of times regarding my Mama, but this particular one is probably one of the most hilarious and telling:

Backstory: I used to HAVE TO sleep with my Bert and Ernie dolls. Stop snickering, this was no menage a trois (that's Three! Three people in bed! Muah-ha-ha-ha-ha! Lightning and Thunder!). This stemmed from my pure love of Sesame Street, especially Bert and Ernie. So, this one time when I was probably 3 or 4, I went to spend the night at my Mama's house but I FORGOT. ERNIE. AND. BERT. This was not something that was a small problem. I refused to go to bed without them. Eventually, my Mama decided she had to get me bed somehow. So, she started digging through her closets to try to find a stuffed animal.

Ok, so there were no stuffed animals. And what comes next is totally absurd. Mama found this purple, sparkly, plastic clutch purse. And she convinced me to sleep with it in lieu of Ernie and Bert. Yeah. For REAL. I cuddled a cheapy plastic purse and slept soundly all night. Perhaps this is why I dragged my heels for years before I bought a purse. I was a pockets girl all the way until college. This may also have to do with my fear of femininity. Anyways, that's my sleeping-with-a-purse story. I have this vivid picture in my mind of what the purse looked like. I scoured google images for something similar, but didn't find what I was looking for to show you. Here's the closest I got:

It was sort of combination of this:

And this:

That's stylish right there. So that's my sleeping with accessories story. I wonder if my Mama laughed to herself on that one. She must have. Cuz that's funny. Ok, it's late. I'm going to bed. With my Rosetti.

RYAN'S RECOMMENDATIONS:

Listening: The Band. Which is like, THE BAND. Awesome.

Reading: Chesapeake.

Working Out: 30-Day Shred. Worked out 3 times with week despite a crazy busy schedule and the new place. I feel pretty good about that!

Watching: Sex and the City Season 4.