Ropes of Sand

Yuppieville

Last Saturday I successfully infiltrated, by rite of matrimony, the yuppie horde. In accordance with the customs of my new clan, I participated in the newlywed ritual of IKEA visiting. The journey was long. The traffic, terrible. The Swedish meatballs, free and impaled on toothpicks. And on every bookshelf of every creepy fake and empty living room rested a copy of The Workshop, that most beloved anthology. I didn't even notice at first, as I am so used to seeing it on friends' shelves--my husband (!) pointed it out. I guess that answers the question I never quite knew I had: has a copy ever sold to someone not affiliated with Iowa?

This is a pretty lame first entry on my part, I know. I just wanted to get something out there so you all don't think I'm a lazy cuss for being silent for our inaugural two weeks. And I will be, as I leave for the honeymoon tomorrow. When I return any and all of you are welcome to crash with us just outside NYC. Perhaps we'll manage to short out those IKEA instructions and have bookshelves built in time for your visit.

posted by Manaster @ Thursday, June 30, 2005