Rainy Saturday’s require two things: Bisquick coffee cake and Ikea catalogues. Yes, there are mounds of laundry morphing into Jaba-the-Hut’s evil underpants based cousin, and yes, at the very least I should be editing – but I need cake and some page flipping therapy.
Ikea is my secret splurge, one I should have outgrown after college, transitioning to Big Girl, professionally assembled furniture, but I have an addiction to all things pre-drilled. There is something inexplicably alluring about a store brimming with outrageous pillow shams and jumbo Swedish meatballs.
A few years back a new Ikea cropped up within spitting distance to my most fabulous friend, Denise; this was bad. Why bad, you ask? (Ok – even if you didn’t ask, I’m going to tell you.) You see Denise comes from hearty, I-am-Italian-and-show-love-by-feeding-you-to-the-point-of-pain stock. Culinary wise, she rivals Cordon Bleu top graduates, friendship wise – well – *gush* - she’s top banana. (Which she will turn into muffins.)
You’re thinking this is good, right? I get to visit with my fantastic, feast-based buddy AND surf the Ikea isles in utter ecstasy? Both true, but let me explain what happens with the arrival of each new Ikea catalogue.
First, I salivate at both the potential trip to Casa Denise’s House of Antipasto and window treatments.
Second, the kids see the catalog. “Yeah baby! Aunt Neese food!” (All Mom food now fails muster.)
Third, after a wonderful visit and shop stop, I’m left with less money in the wallet, less room in the pants.
Fourth, the credit card bill arrives, (B-Movie disaster music here); the Ikea line item glares back ominously, and suddenly I crave girl gab, marinated vegetables and Tony Soprano’s favorite deli meats.
Fifth, the manic eat/shop circle continues.
Here’s hoping a Weight Watchers satellite office buys the property next to Ikea, quickly.
Ikea is my secret splurge, one I should have outgrown after college, transitioning to Big Girl, professionally assembled furniture, but I have an addiction to all things pre-drilled. There is something inexplicably alluring about a store brimming with outrageous pillow shams and jumbo Swedish meatballs.
A few years back a new Ikea cropped up within spitting distance to my most fabulous friend, Denise; this was bad. Why bad, you ask? (Ok – even if you didn’t ask, I’m going to tell you.) You see Denise comes from hearty, I-am-Italian-and-show-love-by-feeding-you-to-the-point-of-pain stock. Culinary wise, she rivals Cordon Bleu top graduates, friendship wise – well – *gush* - she’s top banana. (Which she will turn into muffins.)
You’re thinking this is good, right? I get to visit with my fantastic, feast-based buddy AND surf the Ikea isles in utter ecstasy? Both true, but let me explain what happens with the arrival of each new Ikea catalogue.
First, I salivate at both the potential trip to Casa Denise’s House of Antipasto and window treatments.
Second, the kids see the catalog. “Yeah baby! Aunt Neese food!” (All Mom food now fails muster.)
Third, after a wonderful visit and shop stop, I’m left with less money in the wallet, less room in the pants.
Fourth, the credit card bill arrives, (B-Movie disaster music here); the Ikea line item glares back ominously, and suddenly I crave girl gab, marinated vegetables and Tony Soprano’s favorite deli meats.
Fifth, the manic eat/shop circle continues.
Here’s hoping a Weight Watchers satellite office buys the property next to Ikea, quickly.
6 comments:
awwwww! every good italian loves a good irish family who can EAT! so, you gotta tell me how your artichokes came out?
*giggling*
There's an Ikea about...4 miles from my house. I went in there once, got lost, found my way out after following bread crumbs, and have yet to return.
Side note: There's a weight watchers near my office that's located right next to a pizza joint. I love driving by there ;)
I had a weekend of ikea moments. Mom's new apartment has a kitchen decorated by them. Drop leaf table, two chairs and a hutch. After the furniture building marathon we needed some banana bread and cake and pasta.
Hi ladies. Bethany – I get very Hansel and Gretel in the mall! Breadcrumbs, a friend to the directionally impaired. Jane, I was thinking of doing our laundry room with Ikea cabinets – you’ll have to let me know what you think of the quality after your mother settles in.
Hmm. Why is it everytime I visit your blog I get hungry? That marinated veggie/meat tray looks SCRUMPTIOUS deluxe!
I want an Auntie Nese!
Your posts always make me laugh. :D
Hey there, Anita! I think the blog is my way of cheating on the diet! Pictures = no calories!
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