The Pungent Demise of a Briefcase

It was a Wednesday, and I was driving Seth to the airport to catch his flight to DC for the annual ASLA Conference (where he wines, dines, connects with old friends and, oh yeah, gets a few CEUs). Something stunk. I asked Seth to fish the essential oil out of the glove box and put it in the little clay star that hangs from our rear view mirror. Still, it stunk. "It stinks in here," I said to Seth, "are Myles' sandals back there or something?" (The poor kid, he's 3 and already bears the Hendler curse of stinky feet.) Seth looked. Nope. A few miles later I couldn't take it anymore. Could it really be my own shoes? I took one off, put it up to my nose and inhaled deeply. Not roses, but not the source of the stink. We arrived at the airport, and as Seth was gathering up his things, he said, "You know what stinks? It's my briefcase." He held his leather briefcase up to my nose and there was no mistaking it. Wow. "But there's nothing in it," he said, and pulled it open for me to see. Then he checked the outer pocket. Inside was a blackened banana that had clearly imploded about two weeks earlier. The whole pocket was crawling with live fruit flies and the stench was unreal. We got out the emergency wipes in the glove compartment and Seth spent a good five minutes wiping that thing out, eyes watering, fruit flies swarming. Even after being married to the man for six years, he never ceases to surprise me. Not unlike the time he had a tick hunkered down in his thigh for a full three days and kept insisting I not look at it because it was "just a scab." Never a dull moment.

While Seth was away (toting his stinky briefcase onto the plane, God have mercy on whoever sat next to him) and enjoying the big city, my mom came to help out with Myles and the house. She cooked, she cleaned, she painted, she babysat, she played, all with the patience of Job. When Myles threw a fit the exact moment that church began and I had to remove him from the sanctuary, she didn't bat an eye and cared for him the whole time, missing the entire service. Her endurance is something I can only hope to have when I'm her age...but I think I missed that gene.

She helped me shop for our service project on 9/11. My church gathered at the Veterans Restoration Quarters (and old hotel that now houses over 200 veterans transitioning into permanent housing) and created "Welcome Home" baskets full of all the household necessities one needs when moving into your own place for the first time (silverware, shower curtains, cleaning supplies, pillows, towels, etc.). We made over a dozen baskets, then sat in a circle to hear the stories of a few veterans willing to share. It was amazing. All those supplies will be distributed through the HUD-VASH program within the next 4-6 weeks as veterans transition into permanent housing. I also couldn't resist submitting an article to the local paper on the cost of war, since it was 9/11. Here's a link if you want to read it.

One of my oldest, dearest friends Erin had her sweet baby last week too...welcome to the world Ana Lucia! She's beautiful and perfect. Erin and I met in kindergarten, and I can only hope and pray that Myles will have such old solid friendships one day when he's grown.

Myles Says: When I used an angry voice with him the other day, he replied, "God and Jesus would not like what you're saying to me." Does he know what works with his mama or what?

PSA: Last day to register to vote in NC is October 8th. Get out there and register if you've moved or if you're not registered already. Voting is a privilege that others fought hard for, there's no excuse not to vote!