Proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy

Submitted by reeses on Sun, 2005-07-31 20:43. | San Francisco | travel

A somewhat successful trip back to the Bay Area over, I'm now at home preparing for Friday, when we'll fly to Ireland to spend a little more than a week in and around Dublin. It's a bit of a shame to give up our view (part of which is seen above) and the cute little notes from the Park Hyatt housekeeping staff, but I think it's for the best from a pecuniary perspective.

Kat discovered Friday that she likes handbags enough to "collect" them, or rather, to own more than one. I'm this way about watches and shoes, but she hasn't really had anything like that of her own. Usually, she'll get what she needs, but she doesn't really want more than enough to get by.

This discovery coincides in a tremendously unfortunate way with a long term program I've been maintaining to get Kat to improve her presentation. She's very much a Gap/J. Crew/Polo/Title Nine/REI/Ann Taylor type girl. I've bought her better clothing and accessories in the hope that she'll move out of the 18-23 year old demographic, but as the small stack of little red Cartier boxes will attest, she's been more than comfortable in jeans and t-shirts.

I got a little traction on this trip, to the tune of "be careful what you wish for." Kat's realisation that "handbags are fun, and I should own many of them!" came upon her while I was looking for a new laptop bag, one big enough for my laptop and a few shirts, books, etc.

At Louis Vuitton, where I came out empty handed, and Kat did not.

You'd think I'd be smart enough to send her back to the hotel while I kept looking for a laptop bag, right?

I'm not smart. I said, and this rings in my ears to this moment,"Let's try Hermes."

Let me explain the magnitude of shock that I felt after this very, very expensive thirty minutes. I don't think Kat has ever spent more than about $30 on a purse or handbag. They've always been those knit things popular with granola girls, never involving animal hides, or any particular artisanship other than that of twelve-year-old andean children chained to a loom for eighteen hours a day. To see my wife realise that, for the cost of hundreds of those bags, she could have buttery-soft leather purses for every day of the week, and that she's been missing out on that splendor, how could I say no?

The funniest part was the look on the salespeople's faces, the look that said,"Yes, we've seen this before, and yes, we are going to do all we can to make this hurt as much as possible."

Now, after all of that, you think I can validate Ben Franklin's little statement about God?