Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Vacation Day 4: Now with more lingonberries! ...

On the fourth day of vacation we went to IKEA.

We timed our departure from Roch like we were baby experts. Or at least experts in *this* baby. Barely hit the city limits and she was sawing logs. It was a real "We Got This" victory, though probably more luck and coincidence. 

"I think I'm going to have a shrimp sandwich," I tell Chuck as we roll. 
"Ok," he says. "I'll drive while you shit out the window."

I like IKEA. I guess everyone does, huh? I like to imagine Roxette ringing up my tastefully simple, life improving purchases, Swedish flags applauding our good taste. 

We bought baby things and kitchen things then squirted Lingonberry juice into the girl's birdish maw. 

We had meatballs. Loads and loads of meatballs. They pile your plate with them. So good. So terrible. Pieces of meatball kept sneaking back up my pipe. We traded off ughs and Chuck said: 

"This horse meat keeps repeating on me."

We started talking about the concept of meatballs, a food that doesn't really specify which animal will be rolling around in gravy.

"We never said it wasn't horse," Chuck said, imitating a meatball manufacturer.
"We said meat," I added. "Could be cow. Could be ... goat." 
"If you wanted cow, you should have asked for the cow meatballs," he said.

We scavenger hunted some beer Fannie recommended and then the PBG conked out again for the rest of the trip back to Duluth. Awards!

Back at home I reorganized our cupboards. Found an old Heath bar that I'm going to use as Break-Open-in-Case-of-Emergency fare. 

Drank a single beer. Got a titch bit goofy. Watched "Mad Men." Slept the sleep of champions. 

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