Perhaps our favorite {second only to cake tasting} component of wedding preparation has been registering. Though it sounds like a recipe for disaster, this shopping extravaganza that seemingly no man would enjoy has been an event that Coach John and I turned into the ultimate team sport. If we'd thought on it earlier, we'd have made a playbook- detailing the Crate & Barrel sales floor and how to navigate it faster and more smoothly than the other engaged couples zapping bar codes that afternoon. A thought to all you almost-engagers out there...
Our foray into wedding registries started out innocently enough. Because John and I have lived on our for some time {I in random, sporadic intervals when not happily ensconced in my parents' house with the pool and five furry friends}, we have acquired a collection of home goods that - while not top of the line - are in great shape and entirely useable. I frequently lectured John on not being greedy when we registered, suggesting we make lists of things we didn't have - but REALLY needed. Like a drying rack. Or a new ironing board. Or a nice knife set without plastic grippies. {You get the idea}. It was with this semi-monastic attitude that I arrived with Coach John at Columbus' outdoor shopping mega-metropolis, Easton Town Center.
Little did I know what would be lurking behind the doors of Crate & Barrel when friendly associate and wedding specialist Joshua {an absolute doll with a penchant for brightly colored napkins and modern flatware} took us in hand. He gave us the tour, along with asides on what "everyone else" was doing with their registries and what he, himself, recommended. Joshua and I instantly hit it off {he wants to be a teacher and LOVES J. Crew} and Coach John was ecstatic that all of this registering was done with a combo of iPhone apps and "guns". As Joshua left us to our own devices at the corner of china and bar paraphernalia, I could swear I heard a starting gun somewhere in the distance.
AND THEY'RE OFF....
If our registry experience had been a sporting event, I'm sure the play-by-play announcing would have been sheer genius. A real treat to viewers and listeners alike. As Coach John vainly tried to develop a system for moving around the store in quadrants {defensive coverage, anyone?}, I surged like a tidal wave across the kitchen offerings. My fiance quickly realized that there was no stopping this train. So he soon joined the fray with reckless abandon. I zapped everything from a pancake batter pourer {saw it on Pinterest} to a juicer {I'm blaming Joshua for this one}. Coach John aimed for professional grade knives and a set of technologically perfect beer mugs. I must have really been caught in a madness of almost-marital bliss; because at one point, I even suggested Coach John include a mini-keg that specialized in Heineken.
After two hours of tagging {and a 30 minute heated discussion on burnished vs. shiny silverware}, it was over. A barrage of electronic sounds reverberated in our heads - collateral from the melee. Staring at each other in disbelief {and a small dose of buyers' - or would that be bridal - remorse}, we left quietly and refueled at the Starbucks on the corner. Later that night, as we sat in our apartment with Jolene, we pulled up the list on the laptop.
"A juicer?!" Coach John questioned skeptically...
"Who needs that many types of glasses? We're not running a bar!" I exclaimed.
"So pumped about the knives..."
"So pumped...."
It was then that I realized that my initial plan had gone seriously haywire. Did we need to ask for a few things? Of course. Did we need a JUICER? Of course...Not. So after a little more "bridal remorse", I did what any self-respecting bride would do. I started editing. But that brew-on-the-go tea mug is staying, dammit!
XO,
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