IKEA, etc

On Thursday Pat and I drove to Atlanta, first to IKEA, then to Trader Joe’s. At IKEA we picked out book cases and a reading chair for our new house. They will be shipped to the construction company warehouse. We also chose handles and knobs for the kitchen and bathroom cabinets. The book cases were so heavy (boxed up) that I had to have help getting them onto the cart. Then, I pushed and pushed and couldn’t get the cart to move until a store employee helped me get it started. But the front wheels wouldn’t stay straight. Finally Pat and I turned the cart backwards and pulled from the front to get it to move. Veins must have been bulging from my head and neck as I tugged. For the first time I found a fault with IKEA. We’ve been to the Atlanta store before, and the one just north of Cincinnati, and we’ve had very good experiences shopping with them. But I felt abandoned with this heavy load. A woman customer tried to help us move the damn cart, but with no success. Finally we found an employee to help us get to the checkout line, after which Pat and I tugged and tugged to get the thing to the shipping counter. The thin woman helping us there thought she could push the cart into her lane after we paid, but found out that she couldn’t budge it, and said, to us, “I’ll get some guy to come and get this.” My shirt was wet from sweating, and I was put out. I don’t like to drive in Atlanta; too much traffic to deal with. But I finally relaxed a little and was fascinated by the variety of architectural styles shown off in the many tall buildings. We went to Trader Joe’s on Peach Tree and enjoyed the spacious store at that location. (We had been to the other two in Atlanta before.) I noticed that Trader Joe’s pleasantness is partly the good-natured employees, but also the colorful and inviting packaging of every food and beverage item. Somebody in that organization has a knack for designing pictures and words and images that make you smile and feel good about the products. Trader Joe’s is a happy place that sells good food. On the way home we stopped at a Cracker Barrel and had breakfast. Pat had her usual biskits* and gravy and grits (with sugar on them—shhh, don’t tell the Southerners); and I had French toast and eggs and bacon. I was dead tired when we got home at 11 p.m.  

Norfolk, VA. 

We had some friends who moved to Virginia many years ago. We went to visit, and they wanted to take us to Norfolk. Barbara said it was because Steve liked (A Baptist minister) like to say the word. As you may know, it is correctly pronounced as Norfuck. Ever since then I have wondered about Baptists in Virginia, especially those who live in Norfuck.

*I’ve decided to spell some words incorrectly just because it’s interesting. I was recently reading letters written by Hemingway and discovered that he intentionally spelled many words according to his idiosyncratic wishes. So, I thought, if that Ernest can do, so can this Ernest. (Ernest is my first name.)

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