Welcome to IKEA

Since we moved to Scottsdale, we've been trying to minimize the weight of our material existence. Placing the accumulated mass of life on the scales really calls into question the value of anything that cannot be put into a large backpack. This pursuit of eliminating the stuff of daily existence does not occur easily. Not only do we have to contend with a culture that places a premium on objects as the measure of happiness, but the dark pursuit of things travels with the more optimistic pursuit of ecological responsibility. We are continually seduced into purchasing a lifestyle, and then consciously reject throwing out any item that might have further use. The result is an ever increasing heap of stuff.

So we work hard to overcome the former, and hope that the latter resolves itself. But its never easy. Now with the fact that I need to buy a new bike (see below), probably need new soccer boots, and will shortly need new running shoes, my life slips into consumer mode. Just to make matters worse, I went to IKEA today and was flooded with desire for halogen lamps, aluminum soap dispenser, a sleek, low-slung queen size bed, a whole new lifestyle preferably in a nice 4th story loft apartment with exposed brick, nice balcony, open floor plan and cafes, theaters, bars and restaurants all with walking distance.

Then everything returns to square one.

Yet I took it as a favorably omen that midway through my trip, the fire alarms sounded and we all evacuated. Hundreds of shoppers desparate for a hipper, slightly more European life, stranded in the vast parking lot. Our near-purchases abandoned in the lobby, lonely piles of bright yellow and blue bags.

"Run!" I shouted to the people. "Let it burn. You've been given a reprieve. Return to your old beds. Leave the gleaming storage rack behind. In fact, go home and collect that which needs stored and throw it on the fire. Let the giant blue box blaze!"

Some people did get in cars, but there was, apparently, no fire. An alarm calling for no emergency. We went back inside and my friend bought a small hook in the shape of a dog's backside, and I purchased a small doormat for $1.99. Life is one small step after another.
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Narcissistic post-script:
I once commented on a blog that blogging itself eventually felt empty and purposeless because it was inextricably tied to narcissistic impulses that themselves were empty and lead to dead ends. In that spirit...

I scored a goal last night in our 1-2 loss. The goal came in the first five minutes on a free kick from about 22 yards out. From just to the left of the goal, I bent a ball over the four-man wall and placed it in the top corner. Then, because I have never scored a goal on a free kick (unless you count the one two weeks ago that was already in before my forward stuck his weasely head on it), I looked around assuming I had made a mistake.

I scored a goal.

I'm not one to use emoticons, but... :-)