Jim and I have been streaming the show “Welcome To Sweden”, which is an NBC sitcom produced by Amy Poehler (among others) and starring her younger brother Greg. It’s about a guy and his Swedish fiancee and the hijinks that ensue when they move from New York back to her home in Sweden. I find it hilarious, sweet, and extremely unique (subtitles!!), by the way, and Jim…does not.
Anyway, while watching the show I have noticed Swedish Dala horses in the background. Seeing them on television made me remember the three-inch, red Dala horse that my mom used to have hanging on the living room wall above the couch. When I was a kid I used to stand on the couch and take the horse off the wall (It was a keychain so it was a matter of taking the keyring off of a nail), play with it for a while, and then put it back. My mom still has it (because she keeps EVERYTHING), and in fact I remembered that it is currently on display in her kitchen.
Jim and I were in Tennessee for a wedding last weekend and spent the first night at my parents’ house. I found the horse on the baker’s rack in the kitchen, sitting in front of some cookbooks. It has been sitting there since my parents moved into the house eight years ago, completely unnoticed…until I mentioned it.
“I would love to have that Swedish Dala horse,” I said. “I have always loved that thing.”
I should have known better than to mention it in front of my dad because he’s a jokester who loves having an audience. He grabbed the horse off of the shelf–after not ever even noticing it was there, ever ever ever, I might add–and told me that he was holding the horse hostage unless I could convince my sister to give him “his” jukebox.
My sister has a mini Wurlitzer jukebox that our dad has coveted since the day he first laid eyes on it. He doesn’t stop talking about “his” jukebox and she has to nearly put it on lockdown when he’s in town, for fear he’ll gently pack it into the trunk of his car and drive it home. The situation became more intense a few years ago when she and I stood in line to meet Henry Winkler (aka “The Fonz”) and he signed her jukebox with “Jules, I love you! Henry Winkler.” Dad still wants the jukebox, and of course she wants to hand it over even less.
The idea that I would, number one, have ANY pull with my sister regarding that jukebox and, number two, would actually even consider trying to get her to trade that jukebox so I could get ANYTHING is ridiculous, but I enjoyed his creativity. I spent the evening watching him taunt me with that horse while we were playing cards. It was super-annoying, just how he likes it.
So, it is what it is. I took a nice little picture of “my” Swedish Dala horse before leaving my parents’ house, and that was that.
My mom came home with us for the week and one of her first requests was to go to IKEA. I know what I’ll be looking for.