Something's Fishy

Several months ago while my sister, Sal Gal, and I were hanging out watching CNN National Geographic Entertainment Tonight, I walked up and handed her this tackle box, without any explanation.

She looked at me confused, of course. And I could tell she was assuming that M to the Izz-A had bought me another one of his 'gifts', as he's been known to make a purchase 'for me' but it ends up being something I would never use and so then he claims it for himself. It's all very well thought out.

I told her to open it as I continued to stare at the T.V. and become educated in the ways of the entertainment industry.

Here's what she found:

My old buddy, Old Pal

"Go ahead, hook your toes up with some much needed color." I said.

She laughed and gave me the aren't-you-gonna-explain-this look.

I guess Matt got tired of seeing all of my nail polish (some so old that it's more the consistency of glue) laying in random spots all over the house. You know, like the kitchen counter, office desk, his sock drawer. What?! It was a day I had to do a really quick clean up and his sock drawer was the closest drawer to me.

So out of the blue he comes up to me one day with a huge grin, hands me this old tackle box and tells me to open it.

And inside I find all of my polish. Practicality and resourcefulness come easy to him. It's a gift...a curse....gift?

I've grown pretty fond of my Old Pal. It's like Caboodle's uber-tough cousin. (Do you remember Caboodles from your teenage years? Mine was a tie-dyed purple color and I felt so very cool with it at church camp, all filled up with some Wet n' Wild eyeshadow and clear mascara.)

I even carry it on trips sometime. It makes me feel all tough and outdoorsy.

What's next, organizing my 'underthings' in a toolbox?