“I’m free!” Two more glorious words were never spoken. An excited hubby burst into the house, all smiles following his post-surgery appointment. Six weeks had flown by since my adorable other half had undergone a hip replacement, and he was feeling dandy. So fine in fact, you would swear that he had turned into Steve Austin, the bionic man himself. His okay to “resume all normal activities” and “do pretty-much whatever he wanted” put a new spring in his step.
Which for him, of course, meant only one thing - he could play golf again. Aside from relieving the pain he’d experienced for several years, hitting a golf ball with ease and lowering his handicap were high on his list of reasons to undergo major surgery. Now, given the “go ahead,” he couldn’t wait to try out his swing and smack that little white ball with wild abandon.
And, to commemorate the occasion, we thought the holidays were the perfect time to get together with family and celebrate hubby’s rejuvenation. Thus, faster than you could say Arnold Palmer, we had booked a trip to Dallas to visit our family. Of course, a round of golf with the grandsons was top of the list.
As for me, the visit had an even more important and meaningful purpose. I was going shopping. And, not just any shopping, serious designer shopping. The malls in Dallas offer retail therapy on an entirely different level than found in our local establishments and, with my daughter-in-law Abbey as my tour guide and “partner in crime,” I was going to have fun.
You see, while hubby was recuperating, I had spent the last six weeks being the caregiver extraordinaire. Of course, I didn’t mind - I was taking care of my beloved. It was a little like nursing a baby bird with an injured wing back to health so he could fly again. Every ooh and ow, moan and groan brought me running to see how I might make him more comfortable.
There were ice packs and pillows propped just so while he spent recuperative hours in the recliner. There were protein shakes, lunches and dinners on trays and, of course, homemade chocolate chip cookies. Daily foot rubs were followed by putting his socks on since he couldn’t really bend.
All went well until about three weeks in. You see, one day, after I had apparently not gotten a sock on just right, he began yelling. Yelling at ME, always ready to be his “beck and call girl.” Sure, he was still experiencing some pain. But, aw come on! To say the least, I did not appreciate this attitude one little bit.
One more outburst and I lost my temper. “I have two words for you!” I barked. “Two words? What two words? Just calm down dear” he replied. Seriously, what a silly thing to say! Hadn’t he ever heard that telling a woman to calm down works as well as trying to baptize a cat.
“No, I won’t calm down” I retorted. “I’ve had enough. All you can think about is getting better so you can play golf. I have plans of my own too you know, and they start with these two words- Louis Vuitton!”
By the look on his face, I couldn’t tell if he was relieved that my words didn’t have a stronger message or if he was nervous about exactly how much shopping I was planning to do.
Whatever! After the last few weeks, I deserved every shopping bag I could carry.
A few weeks later, the Dallas morning dawned bright and clear. The boys were off for their mid-morning tee time, and I was more than ready for my own adventure; my dear daughter-in-law knew exactly where to start the quest.
I must admit my heart did a little pitter pat as I saw the large letters blazoned above the doorway. We had arrived at my own personal Disneyland. Naturally, I had done my research and LV’s newest offering, the “Neverfull Inside Out” bag was high on my list. A quick scan around the store brought an immediate tinge of disappointment - the bag was so popular that there was only one left in stock, and it was bright yellow. Not my dream bag at all.
“Don’t panic!” It was Abbey who immediately knew what to do and where to go. Within a few minutes we had visited Prada (“no” to the shearling bag), Saint Laurent (nothing really to my liking) and Dior (aw, Dior). But it was when we arrived at Gucci that I was smitten.
Abbey immediately made inquiries to see if there were any specialty bags available. The lovely customer service lady pointed to her left, and there it was - the newest addition to the Gucci collection. Their early 70s “Blondie” bag had been redesigned and crafted in blue suede. The new, “Gucci Blondie medium top handle bag” featured the House's round symbol in enamel, and it was gorgeous!
I was in love. Sure, the price tag was a little, um, “pricey” but, after an assurance that this bag was one of only ten offered in the United States (and a quick consultation with my hubby and fashion-savvy grandson), the bag was mine.
I know, I know. I had warned I had “two words.” But, happily, with a new bag on my arm, I now need just one. Gucci. And possibly an entire new wardrobe built around blue suede.
© 2025 Annie Sokoloff
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