Yesterday I entertained for the first time in my new home. But like any freshly-moved person, I needed a few supplies first. So I headed to Ikea. Here's my haul, for a hundred bucks.
I'm going to confess something now. I thought about keeping it to myself, but my comments and emails lately have been full of encouragement from women who, like myself, have found themselves on their own after many years of living with partners. They've shared their tough moments but also their marvelous strength and the happy discoveries once they started learning to stand on their own two feet.
So here's the moment I'll share. I was wandering around Ikea with my shopping cart, dazzled by all those amazing displays, when I started noticing that all the other shoppers were adorable young couples and little families with babies. And I suddenly remembered the time, twenty-five years ago, when I was part of a young and optimistic couple visiting Ikea for the first time, stretching our budget to buy a bookshelf and a set of canisters. (I had those canisters for many years - used them to store buttons and elastic and such.)
And I stopped my shopping cart cold and I felt all kinds of sad. Wistful and scared and loss-ful. And I even indulged in a rare moment of poor-me, because between these book-end Ikea trips were a number of outings to very high end furniture stores where I spent more than my current rent on an end table. (!) I'm not proud of that, but this is a confession so I am telling all.
But mostly I just felt...all alone.
Well, here's my happy outcome from yesterday. When I got home, I put on an episode of Luther (IDRIS! Ohhhh, Idris, you know you want me, and hands off, Peeler, I saw him first) and got out my power drill with the phillips-head bit (God, I love that thing!) and assembled my new folding table. Which made me feel incredibly competent, so thank you, Ikea.
Then my friends came over. And I don't think we stopped laughing the whole time. (Look how cute my table is! Most of the time, it's going to be a sewing table and/or a printer table for the kids' room.)
So yeah, my pals brought me 16-year Lagavulin. Hell's bells - *someone* must think I'm awesome! Oh, and that's a scotch rock, which they also brought me - you freeze it and then use it to chill your scotch just a tiny bit because watering down single malt with ice is a SIN.
Me and my pal Mysti Berry. (who, by the way, you can meet at Bouchercon if you are going, and you should, because she's smart as a whip, funny, and I'm very lucky she's my friend.)