Quit screaming in my purse.
Recently, while in the checkout line at the grocery store, I heard this muffled voice squawking from somewhere below. I turned around and looked at the woman standing directly behind me. Apologetically, she glanced down at her purse and said, "I'm sorry, it's my husband . We have two-way radio calling and he's trying to get a hold of me." I asked her why she didn't take the call. She explained that she had already talked to him three times in the past four hours, camera phoned him pictures of the kids at the beach, and that she would be home in ten minutes anyway. The man in front of me asked her why she didn't just turn off the radio feature. "Impossible," she replied. "He would wonder where we are and go nuts ." She then added, "I love that he misses us. I just wish he would quit screaming in my purse." As everyone in the checkout line laughed, it occurred to me how well, if not eloquently, this woman conveyed her point