EKTORP?

A friend and recently noted that IKEA furniture is highly emblematic of a certain period of adulthood. He was observing that shopping at the Swedish wholesaler was representative of moving on from the stage  of life marked by  “Everything I own fits in my car”  or  “Dude, let’s go snag that couch by the dumpster.”   Yes, it marks a certain maturation point when a critical mass of our furniture is purchased as opposed to handed-down or lifted off the curb.  Once we decide that we are actually going to “own” furniture, we often start with reasonably priced, utilitarian products you find at  store that looks like the Swedish flag.

My favorite thing about IKEA? The product line names: ASPVIK, EKTORP, KRAMFORS.  Scandinavian inspired and all capitals.  If you read them out loud, it sounds like a backwards record.  Right now, some intern at corporate headquarters is probably spinning Sergeant Pepper’s in reverse to generate new marketing ideas.  

I also really enjoy putting the stuff together.  There is no better training for assembling modular furniture than years of building with LEGO on Christmas morning. Just like LEGO, IKEA has a step by step numbered plan with a picture.   Not surprisingly the first IKEA store In Sweden is not too far from LEGOLAND in  Denmark.  Coincidence? I think not.

Now of course, any IKEA purchase comes with its challenges. Mainly, you have to get the stuff home. Once I had to leave my wife behind because a BERTBY end table had to ride in her seat.  I  left her some money for Swedish Meatballs and told her if she got tired to lay down in one of the fake bedrooms.  Another moving gaffe occurred a few years later when we securely lashed a tabletop to our car roof only to discover that if you do this with the car doors closed, it’s hard to get in the car.

Maybe someday down the road I’ll hand my college bound son one my IKEA purchases and brag, “This compact disc case has been  in the family since ’94.” To which he’ll reply, “What’s a compact disc?” Then, he’ll pack up everything he owns on his Segway and head off in search of knowledge and his first free couch.

Ahh...the circle of life.

Are You On The List?

Right now The List is running my life.  Posted on the refrigerator, it safeguards my favorite snacks and the accompanying sloth that goes so well with them. It is a harsh, constant, UPPERCASE reminder of tasks that must be done around the house before a baby shower at our home in August. 

No one task on The List is extraordinarily hard or cost prohibitive--washing windows, touching up paint, etc--but the volume of tasks is rather daunting.  Not only is The List long, but it’s growing. For example, as I was trimming the front hedges, I realized that the sidewalk needs to be washed and that we needed some new mulch underneath our wild roses. And come to think of it, our entry would look much nicer if we planted some flowers along the walkway. After finished the hedges, I humbly crossed that item off and added my new found jobs to The List. Just like the mythical Hydra, I had cut off the head of one monstrous task only to have 3 new tasks grow back.  

At a lunch recently an escrow officer asked me how my weekend was to which  I enthusiastically responded, “Great! I crossed two things off my list.”  As she looked back at me with bewilderment, I realized The List was starting to infect all other aspects of my life. I couldn’t stop thinking or talking about it. The List had become an all encompassing, overgrown beast, much like the lavender on the side of the house that needed to be cut back. And even as I write about The List, its tasks sneak up in the form of metaphoric description.

While it will take a Herculean effort to perform my personal labors,  I will complete my heroic journey.  I will slay the paper dragon that guards the treasure in the refrigerator, rescue the amber 12 ounce maiden, and return to my kingdom of couch. 

But for now, The List is running my life.

Lying in the Weeds

One of the things that drew my wife and I to our new home was the backyard.  With a half dozen citrus trees keeping guard over a garden full of desert blooms  it is absolutely beautiful--especially this time of year.  When we bought the house, we definitely pictured ourselves getting a lot of use out of the backyard.  Perhaps if I examined that picture closer, I would have noticed I was wearing work gloves and pulling weeds.  Having graduated from a 2 bedroom townhouse with a small brick patio, I wasn't necessarily ready for the labor involved in my new plot.  I  have to confess, I wasn't even sure why one trash bins was green.

So everything in the backyard is growing nicely.  And even though we look to have plenty of oranges and lemons this season, this year’s real bumper crop is going to be Dandelions.  Did you ever look at your yard only be able to see the weeds? I am frequently stricken with weed tunnel vision. Bobby Fischer could be playing horseshoes with Elvis by the fence, and I all could see is those nasty jagged little leaves.  So on the weekend I am Indiana Jones, working my machete thought the thickness of the jungle.  (Of course there’s no archaeological treasure and I’m toting Roundup instead of a whip.) 

 Yet, I have found a certain solace in weeding.  It's very therapeutic.  How many problems in life have solutions as simple as getting down to the root and removing them?  Then there’s the sense of accomplishment of having worked in the backyard for the afternoon eradicating the evil Taraxacum officinale from the peaceful garden neighborhood.  I know the weeds will be back, but every hero needs his recurring villain to define his character.  So for those of you that escaped the fate in the green plastic bin on this Sunday, rest assured I’ll be back next weekend.  

Unless I’m at the beach.