I love Ikea!

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I love Ikea. Not ironically. Not because I’m supposed to. But just because it’s friggin’ fantastic!

Ikea Love!

Ikea Love!

I don’t know if it’s the ginormous warehouse feel or the big, oversized shopping bags, but I find I just don’t get there often enough. I like eating in the cafeteria-like food court, things like salmon wraps and Swedish meatballs. These little broccoli-potato cakes that I could probably make at home but why bother? Oh, and making our way from the top down through the many departments looking for treasures.

 

Sure, we laugh as we attempt to pronounce the names of some of the things. Why is my rechargeable drill called a “fixa?” Wait. I think I can figure that one out. On this trip I bought bathmats and more pieces for my grandson’s wooden train set. The aforementioned drill and a package of drinking straws. Oh, my daughter declared that they weren’t trying any longer, since the straws were just called “soda.” Seems on the nosey, but not bad.

 

So we got to pack up our huge blue shopping bags with things I needed and some I didn’t, and made one last stop before checking out. The market.

 

Hey, I can’t leave the place without at least two bags of Swedish fish!

 

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