Rules of Sunday — March 30th, 2025:
1. No hanging with anyone besides people named Delaney Olexa (there’s only 1 of us).
2. Do whatever & go wherever your heart desires.
So, I drove 1.5 hours to have some Swedish meatballs at IKEA.
Listen, I don’t get many days to myself. Between work, friends, family, travels, work, & general adulting, I keep my schedule stacked — and these days, sometimes intangibly so. I feel like life is the last minute of my popcorn in the microwave & I’m just trying to pee, make a drink, change outfits, & see how many laps I can run around the house before time’s up. Imagine if I was married or had a kid? I mean, I’d figure out how to tango, but, golly! Big time props to all of the 0-100 people out there that have mini me’s. I’ve hardly left enough room in my life to parent a cacti.
Anywho, I got my ish done this week, stacked my Saturday with all of the things, & left today open to take me with the wind. And ever since last night, all I could think about was how good some IKEA meatballs sounded. From where or for why the idea came to mind? Couldn’t tell you. I haven’t thought about IKEA, or a meatball for that matter, in years. But the powers that be lead me to a craving so intense that my heart couldn’t help but register it as destiny. So, into the Maple Leaf country I drove & up to the blue & yellow store I walked — destiny (meatballs) was waiting inside…
For better or for worse, when I’m left by myself for extended periods of time, I tend to let my mind off of its leash to roam free. And, as per usual, there she was, free as a range chicken, waltzing through the aisles of IKEA today. Here’s what I decided to jot down in the midst of my solitude…
-I touch everything. Geez. How did my mom take me anywhere. The curtains, the light fixtures, the breakables — my hands have to come in contact with everything!
-I wonder if everyone has a dominant sense; or at least a dominant, non-essential sense (ie touch, taste, or smell). Well, I guess none are technically necessary (shoutout to Helen Keller), but you mean what I know. Moral of the story: my dominant sense is, hands down, tactile.
-I go to stores & never buy anything. Riddle me that. I did, however, buy a new trash can today. I broke the big news to border patrol on my way back & his response was, “ooooo, a trash can! Riveting.” Smart Alec… this is a pivotal moment for me. Have some compassion.
-I think IKEA is the Swedish version of Costco. I haven’t quite wrapped my mind around how that represents us as a country, so I‘ll just leave that cultural juxtaposition there to marinate for a bit.
-I don’t dislike many things. But I really dislike shopping. Yet I like IKEA. I had no intentions of buying anything here today. But I needed a scenic, indoor walk, and that it’s been. Inspiring.
-I like the cadence of a Swedish lifestyle. Not permanently, but every once in a while , it’s nice to be reminded that it’s a human necessity to slow down. That reminds me. You ever heard of Fika? It’s the Swedish word for “coffee break”. Supposedly the Swedes do it once or twice a day to slow down, sip a bev, & have a snack. That was one of my Covid obsessions. I have 4 books on it. Is that necessary? Absolutely not. I mean, I love the concept, but I don’t think my heart burns for any one thing so much that I need 4 books on it. I don’t even read. I’ll cut the crazy some slack though. Covid was weird.
-I have no use for peas. They’re almost as worthless to me as parsley, celery, or Delaware.
-Sometimes it’s nice to be told what to do. I think that’s why I like group fitness classes & cafeteria food (I’m in a cafeteria, eating peas in case you’re wondering how we got here). It feels like when your mom used to say, “well, this is what’s for dinner. Eat it or eat nothing.”
So blunt, yet so simple.
Nobody here gives a crap that I’m not a fan of peas. They just glob them on my plate, let every portion of my meal smush together, & say without saying — “you’ll eat them & you’ll like it. And if you don’t like it, we don’t care.” Feels very Pink Floyd, “you can’t have your pudding if you don’t eat your meat”-esque. I think that’s why I liked Air Force Academy so much when I went on my visit. You get woken up by the same horn every morning at the same time. You go to the one cafeteria they have on campus & eat whatever they’re serving for the day. Then you go to your classes & training just like you’re supposed to. There are no ifs, ands, or buts about it. It’s mindless & monotonous, which are usually complaint points. And I’m sure if that was my life every day, it would become a complaint point for me, at least to some extent. But sometimes it’s nice to just do what you’re told, not have to think, then get praised for hitting all of the marks. It’s as satisfying as when the DVD Video logo would hit a corner perfectly after watching it bounce around for 5 minutes. Gives me closure. And there are few things I love more than closure.
-It’s nice to be in different environments. For starters, it’s good to get out of your everyday one. But it’s also special to remember how multi-faceted we all are. And not in an inconsistent or ungrounded way, but in a way that the same diamond has so many different surfaces on just the one. It’s refreshing to remember I love to samba on the beaches of Rio just as much as I love to coach a group of 9 year-old gymnasts in a musty gym just as much as I love to rock out to John Mellencamp in the light bulb aisle of Home Depot just as much as I love to take a Muay Thai class just as much as I love to spend hours decorating a cake with a friend. It’s all me, but there are so many pieces that I lose track of most at any given moment. So, it’s pretty remarkable to be places & around things that make you remember one that you might’ve forgotten.
-You know when a word feels right, but the definition just doesn’t hit home? Words like “sultry” or “nuance” are a couple personal examples that I just can’t get on board with. I love & use both words all of the time, but only in the way I want them to be used.
“Sultry”, to me, doesn’t mean “sensual”. It means “deep, rooted, purposeful, & like an aboriginal, richly earth toned color palette makes you feel”.
Ex: “the man sat alone, listening to the saxophone, feeling a deep sense of connectedness with his grandpa — a sultry experience.”
Don’t even get me started on “nuance”… gun to my head, if I had to tell you the definition; I couldn’t. And that’s coming from a woman who looks up the definition every time she uses it. You see, I use “nuance” as I believe it to be originally intended, meaning, “newfound or novel”. As in, “Steve is a genius! I never would’ve thought of that. What a nuance idea!”
And I know what you’re thinking: “Delaney, that’s not how words work. You can’t just make them mean whatever you want.” And I get that. But, then again, there are two sides to my coin: the head & the heart. I flipped it & it landed on heart. And my heart tells me to toss rhyme & reason to the wind & throw around self-defined words with such fervor that people can’t help but know what I mean.
-Canadian currency rocks. Point blank period. Bunch of cheapskates out here in Ontario. I feel to at-home.
-I want to know what IKEA’s main demographic is. And I’m not talking about age, gender, ethnicity, or occupationally. I wanna know how many of these people are here today because they couldn’t figure out what else to do with their Sunday & needed an indoor track with some scenery. Who came here because the kids were driving them nuts? Who came here because they had a hankering for some meatballs? Who came here because they actually needed something? I need a pie chart, STAT.
-2 laps around the Burlington, ON, IKEA is roughly 5 miles. Now, take that with a grain of salt, because I’m a distractable gal & tend to wander. I’m sure if we mapped it, my math is far from the truth, but the point still stands: this place is a monstrosity.
-For as much as I hate artificial light, I really love the light sections in stores.
-I once knew a guy who said, “you should never write to please others. Write what comes out, then choose whether or not to share.” And every time I put a pen to paper I think of him. It’s an oddly, anti-vain practice. It makes you write to release, not to be heard. There’s a huge difference when all is said & done. Recently, I haven’t written anything that I would choose to share, and part of me wishes I did more often. But also? I have little control over the matter, and it’s nice to have thoughts & secrets with yourself. There’s something sacred about it.
-Neck Cheese. What a wild concept. I forgot it existed until I just looked a baby in the eyes & remembered that they can literally curdle their mom’s milk in their neck rolls. Kind of a power move, honestly. Very Trad Wife of them, making cheese from scratch.
-A few years back, I asked a woman what her learning curve of life was at the moment, and she said:
“You can’t expect anything from anyone.”
I’ve always thought it’s funny to hear someone’s words in the present moment & either
a. Not understand what they mean or
b. Interpret them one way in the moment, then think of them a year down the road & have them take on an entirely different meaning.
Her “expectations” bit was the former for me. I didn’t understand what she meant at the time, but I remember saying, “a few years down the line, I’ll be able to wrap my mind around her words.” A few years later &, funnily enough, her words are how I live my life most moments. Expectation-less and pleasantly surprised all of the time. What a full-circle thought.
-I don’t think I could have a cohesive, fluent feng shui if my life depended on it. There are too many joy-inducing things that I grab for that it all couldn’t possibly make sense together in the same room. I think the only feng shui I’ll ever have is myself. And that’s just going to have to be enough when you come over for dinner.
Alright, back on the leash she goes.