ikea and milkshake weekend
Shoes: F21, Jeans {old}: F21, Sweater: F21, Hat: Wal-mart, Bag: Mishqua On a scale from 1-10 how embarrassing is an outfit comprised almost entirely of Forever 21 and Wal-mart? And at what age does one stop shopping at Forever 21 anyway?
These were taken on our pilgrimage home from Ikea over the weekend. Ask me how I feel about Ikea on a Saturday, go ahead, ask me.
Ikea on a Saturday with your two sidekicks, the smallest of them exercising his Ikea rights to use his biggest singing voice in an echo-y warehouse, with a side of meatball samples and lists {and crossing off lists!} and the hustle and bustle of Christmas shopping, is a grand Saturday indeed. Our new kitchen table legs are now waiting for a particular set of drill bits in our dining room and the biggest full length mirror I could find has now found itself a home in our living room. That mirror is EMBARRASSINGLY large. And I'm nuts about it, I have to say. It's one-third for Everett because he loves standing up and dancing with himself, it's one-third to make the room look bigger, and one-third overcompensation for two years of standing on the bathroom toilet to make sure my shoes matched my outfit. Sometimes I just choose the path of most-resistance for no good reason at all.
We also discovered the best milkshake in northern Virginia this weekend. And here's the thing about our relationship when it comes to milkshakes: I'm a sharer and Tyson is an advocate of the get yer own philosophy. I'm not a huge ice cream person {sour candy all day long} so usually we'll just get one and I'll have a few bites here and there. {Sorry man!} So this time, same as always, I got one milkshake. And it was HUGE. I drove home, handed it to Tyson aaaaaaaand ... there was about 1/4 of it left to share at the bottom. I can neither confirm nor deny what happened on the drive home that night. But I am not responsible for my actions! 'twas the milkshake.
These were taken on our pilgrimage home from Ikea over the weekend. Ask me how I feel about Ikea on a Saturday, go ahead, ask me.
Ikea on a Saturday with your two sidekicks, the smallest of them exercising his Ikea rights to use his biggest singing voice in an echo-y warehouse, with a side of meatball samples and lists {and crossing off lists!} and the hustle and bustle of Christmas shopping, is a grand Saturday indeed. Our new kitchen table legs are now waiting for a particular set of drill bits in our dining room and the biggest full length mirror I could find has now found itself a home in our living room. That mirror is EMBARRASSINGLY large. And I'm nuts about it, I have to say. It's one-third for Everett because he loves standing up and dancing with himself, it's one-third to make the room look bigger, and one-third overcompensation for two years of standing on the bathroom toilet to make sure my shoes matched my outfit. Sometimes I just choose the path of most-resistance for no good reason at all.
We also discovered the best milkshake in northern Virginia this weekend. And here's the thing about our relationship when it comes to milkshakes: I'm a sharer and Tyson is an advocate of the get yer own philosophy. I'm not a huge ice cream person {sour candy all day long} so usually we'll just get one and I'll have a few bites here and there. {Sorry man!} So this time, same as always, I got one milkshake. And it was HUGE. I drove home, handed it to Tyson aaaaaaaand ... there was about 1/4 of it left to share at the bottom. I can neither confirm nor deny what happened on the drive home that night. But I am not responsible for my actions! 'twas the milkshake.
