Recently, I've been reliving my wedding planning with Kat from Tenaciously Yours. Go visit her and offer your congrats on her recent wedding, which if the pictures are any judge, was a complete party.
I wasn't much into wedding planning myself. I was probably the worst bride, not in a Bridezilla way, but in whatever the opposite is. I just couldn't bring myself to care what colors the tablecloth were or whether the flowers matched the cake. Just didn't care.
I only really cared that I looked good in my dress, people had fun, and the groom showed up.
Also? I kind of cared about the registry.
Scott was of the mind that we should go for the big ticket items, as we already had between us some of the best kitchen tools out there. I was of the mind that if we went for big ticket items, we'd get nothing from our registry and people would take to buying us what they THINK we should have, and spending the week after my wedding in return lines was less than appealing to me.
So we compromised and agreed we would do one registry at Target for the more reasonable registry items and Williams-Sonoma for our more extravagant wants and needs.
Scott virtually skipped into Williams-Sonoma on registry day. Under normal circumstances, we do not enter this store because I begin howler monkey screeching: "$25 for a measuring cup?? I could get four of those at Target for half the price!!"
So knowing he had carte blanche to wander and admire and shoot a gun at items in Williams-Sonoma may have made him happier than me saying I would marry him.
I began to dream of wine glasses, mugs, and serving ware when I heard my name shouted across the store.
Scott was standing near a saleswoman whose eyes told me she was getting commission and was about to buy herself a new living room set.
Thank God I was smart enough to keep the gun myself, but I wandered over and indulgently smiled at the saleswoman. She showed us what I like to call the "trinket aisle." You know the one, right? Magnetic conversion charts, mini spatulas, cookie cutters.
And the piece de resistance: a pineapple slicer and corer.
I wish I had taken a picture of Scott's face when he saw this.
Never mind we had never had a pineapple in our time together. Never mind that we had registered for some very expensive knives that would quite easily cut a pineapple.
I could not talk him out of it.
In retaliation, I registered for a cow coffee creamer. The creamer comes out of the cow's mouth in a barf-like manner.
Scott is slightly pouting. We are corer-less.
For Christmas this past year, my parents broke down and bought Scott the pineapple corer and slicer.
Scott, this is the closest you'll get to a "you were right."
I confess, we do buy pineapple once a month or so. I confess, the pineapple corer and slicer is pretty slick. I confess getting a whole pineapple and cutting it is more economical. I confess a grilled pineapple is one of the most amazing summer treats ever.
Allow me to demonstrate:
|Cut the top off the pineapple.|
|Corer goes in. I totally forgot to cut off the bottom of the pineapple. Rookie mistake.|
|So I had to cut the skin off the sides.|
|Out comes the core! Easy peasy!|
|Cut up to put on the grill. Is there ANYTHING better than pineapple on the grill????|
So what registry arguments did you have, or what is on your dream registry when you get hitched?