Doctor. Doctor. Doctor.

Did I mention that Brendon and I had a list of desires for when we went on our honeymoon? Hey--get your mind out of the gutter! I'm talking about items we hoped to purchase. 

Obviously I didn't plan on purchasing anything, faithfulness to this experiment being forefront in my mind. Ahem. Anyway, Brendon listed a "man purse" among his wants.

But Brendon being Brendon, he was not attracted to the shiny new leather goods in the fancy shops of Buenos Aires. No, his heart fluttered at the sight of this old, beat up doctor's bag.

We were at the tail end of the Sunday flea market in Montevideo, Uruguay. All kinds of crazy trinkets were being packed up by hopeful hawkers getting ready to turn in for the evening. From Montevideo license plates (we may have bought some of those) to weird assortments of antique tools, it captured my dear Life Partner's attention like only a Latin American flea market can.

Then he lugged that big ol' thing back to Argentina and ultimately over the border to the US. Along the way he tried to clean it up, thoroughly stinking up our hotel room in Uruguay in the process and most certainly disturbing the housekeeping staff with both the odor of our room and the blackened washcloths strewn about.

Crazy American honeymooners, eating our alfajores at midnight and messing up our linens!

It was my sincerest desire to make the bag beautiful for him while he was away offshore. Of course, like a good wifey wife, I decided not to shirk my feminine household duties (ha ha ha...) by taking so much time to polish up an old bag. I subcontracted the project to the local gurus at Austin Shoe Hospital.

They are freakin' brilliant. Look at how they cleaned this baby up. They also replaced the worn out handle, and as a finishing touch they added a shoulder strap.  They are the Beethoven of bag repair, for sure.

There ya go, folks, another lovely acquisition made possible by refurbishing something old. Why is that so satisfying? It's not like we saved money or anything--cleaning it and adding handle/strap probably cost as much as some of the posh new bags we saw in BA.

I blame the story behind it. It's fun to have something with a little meaning. "This is the bag that made awful leather polish fumes in our hotel room during our honeymoon. Isn't that romantic?"

It's also definitely a reflection of how Brendon sees things. And people, too. Just with a little more insight into their potential than most folks might notice.

Okay, don't let me get too squishy here. I can't make grand sweeping conclusions about life every time I encounter clothes/accessories with significance! Let me end the post in saying I am really delighted about this doctor's bag because now every time Brendon wears it, I'll think of this scene. That, my friends, is a life-changing belly laugh for sure.