Sometimes ugly people have really wonderful personalities. My postman isn’t doing so fabulous in either direction. The thing is, the situation has so much potential! My post office is within walking distance… I was raised in the suburbs so the idea of walking to the post office is inherently charming. Secondly, I’m mailing off artwork in mis-shapen brown packages. Thirdly, the building is old, there’s a pretty decent mural of some past war (complete with naked indian fannies) and there’s just one window with one postman. Imagine if he were a charming old gentleman, or a rosy laughing lady. I could bake them something. Bring them coffee. Or a balloon on their birthday. Maybe if I bring my postman a balloon, he won’t ask me if I want overnight after I tell him “Nothing special.”
But what does this have to do with Lingonberry sauce? Nothing. But aren’t you glad you know about the Indian fannies?
On Monday, my friend and I loaded the backseat of my car with small humans and set off for Ikea. It’s a bit of a hike–3 hours or so–from here, and near family. My parents drove up from SC to babysit some of the kids, and the sister and sister-in-laws rallied to join in the fun. It was fun,tiring, profitable… messed up on only 4 exits the whole trip (!). Two wailing babies in the back, trend-setting for each other. Had coffee 4 times.
Today, my husband asked me if I bought the whole store. Blush. Yes.
Want to see my loot? Here’s some of it. Blush. You may enjoy Ikea vicariously through me. And vicariously gain weight on the meatballs.