Blurbs from the Burbs by Chickysara

This year was the first that I did not create Easter baskets for the Big Boys. I was distraught that I did not have time to make the usual “arrangements” for the “Easter Bunny” to bring them baskets loaded with Pringles, Cadbury Eggs, Fiddle Faddle and the other favorite treats he has always delivered. I felt like a rotten mother. The Husband poo-poo'd the notion claiming that it was highly unlikely that the Big Boys would hold it against me for not delivering them Easter baskets. They were, after all, grown men and probably stopped expecting Easter baskets from the Easter Bunny eons ago. Still, I felt like they might have been disappointed (they weren't). It was just lucky that I had a stash of Pop Rocks and Starbursts handy, and I was able to make sure that the Little Boys received their baskets from the Easter Bunny. Unfortunately, I didn’t wake up early enough to put them on the doorstep and the boys were already awake by the time I got out of bed, so I had to perform a ch...

A few weeks ago, I decided that J needed a new dresser for his bedroom—something chic and European…something from Ikea! I had heard things about Ikea, like how you can buy an entire roomful of furniture for what you’d for pay a TV tray at Ethan Allen, AND…that they have a cafeteria where they serve Swedish meatballs with mashed potatoes for like six bucks! Cheap furniture and meatballs? Ding-Ding-Ding! Jackpot! Like most Americans, I was immediately dazzled by the stylishly appointed little “rooms” at Ikea. I was overcome with a sudden urge to throw out all of my fussy custom-upholstered chairs and sofas and replace them with sleek vinyl chaises and Swedish beanbag chairs. But I was there to buy a dresser and it was time to get down to business. This is when the dazzle begins to wear off. To get to the dresser, I am forced to wander through a maze like a lab rat searching for cheese. At last, the dresser is found. Now to find pencil and paper to write down the mysterious location of ...