Poke-nook, the Lost Glove and My Cousin Isly

Our filmmaker friend Arnie Reisman is a regular panelist on Says You, a witty NPR radio show about words.  I’ve learned a lot from Arnie and his literate pals.  For example,  did you know that the dark, cavernous corner of a woman’s handbag is called a poke- nook?  Remember that word.

Now do you remember last winter I blogged about losing one of my green gloves when I pulled it off quickly to answer my cell phone?  (See Lost Glove,  Nov. 30,  2013).

At the time I worried that I wouldn’t find another pair to match my green winter coat,  but miraculously I found the perfect ones at Lord & Taylor.

Some days later  I had a lovely lunch with my young cousin Isly.   Afterwards,  coming  out of the restaurant,  I realized one of those perfect green gloves was missing again,  but this time I didn’t fret.

I knew I could eventually replace the gloves,  but the sweet time I just had with my lovely cousin Isly — irreplaceable!


Later that nite when I was cleaning out my handbag  guess what,   I found the missing glove in my poke-nook!

Dana Susan Lehrman



  • We all have the same problem with handbags and totes. I didn't know the term poke nook, which, by the way, has a slightly racy undertone. I just thought my purses were bottomless pits.

  • I forgot to mention how much I liked the photo of your sweet faced young cousin. I thought the contents of your tote nicely reflected you and your interests: you tennis playing, NY loving, healthy food eating Joycean who also wears pretty scarves.

  • The artists paints for himself. The viewer interprets the art according to what his brain tells him he is seeing. When my grandson was in nursery school he splattered paint on a sheet of construction paper and gave it to me. It looked so much like a Pollock painting that I had it framed and it still hangs in my office.

    • Ang, I know you meant this comment for my post IN THE ABSTRACT!
      Damn this technology, but thanks for the comment, I thought my take on Pollock would ruffle the feathers of some readers, but each to his own and that makes horse-racing … or something like that! xox

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