...The wonderful IKEA of Oz! We're making a weekend jaunt of it, so I'm hopeful we can go to Ikea on both days. I may have to defer to the wishes of other family members, though.
Ikea has a warm place in my heart, and in all the family's, really. This is because my mother was born and grew up in Sweden. The Ikea in Baltimore opened 19 years ago, on the day my niece was born in Baltimore.
Ever since, we've stopped in often and oftener, to buy Billy bookshelves galore, kitchen gadgets, the best bath towels ever, lighting, and all-important Swedish food.
Mom loved loved loved to have a day out at Ikea, too, so I'm a bit sad at going without her, but I hope it will remind me of a lot of good days together.
Before the days of Ikea, back in the 1970s, getting Swedish food involved a trip to the Swedish Store somewhere in New York City. I have vague memories of stocking up on lingonberries, Swedish fish before you could buy them everywhere, and delightful clogs in perforated red leather. And Dala horses. In my childhood mind, I sort of thought the Swedish Store was an embassy, or consulate, or something official. It was a very important place, at the least.
In any event, Ikea took over that quasi-official Swedish ex-pat destination for mom, and I fell in love with it myself. It will be a lovely weekend, even if we can't buy any flat-pack furniture (No. Room. In. Car.).