I Accept my Swedish Overlords
Anna is not nearly as entertained by IKEA as I am.
She does, however, enjoy assembling furniture. That's important because after trying to assemble a bedside table with the vaugely incestuous name "Fornbro," only to find that pre-made holes were misaligned, I accepted defeat. IKEA had worn me down with 2 and a half hours of shopping in circles (though it was broken up by a phone call to Jeff to find out how big our TV is). Anna finished the table and one more, now we have a lovely set that towers above our mattress. The fun of IKEA is finding out what sort of Swedish nonsense syllables it has assigned to the coathanger or the plastic drying rack. Besides the Fornbros, our lamp seems to be made by a company called Not.
On a pitstop at a Courtyard hotel in Emeryville, we ran into a gaggle of Jet Blue flight attendants. It was a perfectly nice hotel and I was surprised to learn that the airline stashes its traveling crew in such decent digs. With the low fares, and lack of a union, I figured they would be put up in a Motel-6 or maybe slept in the terminal.
Also notable was the fact that Anna drove the 60 miles to Emeryville, CA. She acquitted herself well, keeping reasonably cool through her first, though hopefully not last, Berkeley traffic jam and getting us off the freeway without incident. I, however, continue to press a phantom brake pedal on the passenger side whenever we drive together, something she is getting pretty damn sick of, if you must know.
She does, however, enjoy assembling furniture. That's important because after trying to assemble a bedside table with the vaugely incestuous name "Fornbro," only to find that pre-made holes were misaligned, I accepted defeat. IKEA had worn me down with 2 and a half hours of shopping in circles (though it was broken up by a phone call to Jeff to find out how big our TV is). Anna finished the table and one more, now we have a lovely set that towers above our mattress. The fun of IKEA is finding out what sort of Swedish nonsense syllables it has assigned to the coathanger or the plastic drying rack. Besides the Fornbros, our lamp seems to be made by a company called Not.
On a pitstop at a Courtyard hotel in Emeryville, we ran into a gaggle of Jet Blue flight attendants. It was a perfectly nice hotel and I was surprised to learn that the airline stashes its traveling crew in such decent digs. With the low fares, and lack of a union, I figured they would be put up in a Motel-6 or maybe slept in the terminal.
Also notable was the fact that Anna drove the 60 miles to Emeryville, CA. She acquitted herself well, keeping reasonably cool through her first, though hopefully not last, Berkeley traffic jam and getting us off the freeway without incident. I, however, continue to press a phantom brake pedal on the passenger side whenever we drive together, something she is getting pretty damn sick of, if you must know.
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