Registered. August 8, 2007

I resisted registering for a while. Something about it just seemed so inorganic – choosing things to have other people buy for you. I mean, ten year old Clink would’ve been all about it, but twenty-five year old Clink was a bit hesitant.  
 
Besides, I’m Greek and therefore ethnic: it’s all about money in an envelope. 
 
But then people, mostly non-Greek people, started asking. “We want to get you an engagement gift, where are you registered?”  
 
So, Monday night, M and I curled up in bed with his new MacBook (codename: Albino Baby) and got to work. 
 
Rather, I got to work and M watched ESPN and periodically commented, when asked, about whether he liked the cake stand with or without the glass dome (“What kind of cake are we talking about?” “OmiGOD, nevermind.”) 
 
After hours (literally, hours) spent on www.potterybarn.com and www.bedbathandbeyond.com, I was spent. And also, excited. Because I had cobbled together (with some help from the fiance) what our future is going to look like: the Emma collection of dishes in our cabinets, a silver KitchenAid stand mixer on our countertop, high thread count sheets on which our children will be conceived (that was one way to get M to participate in the bedding discussion: “We will be having sex on these so I’d like your input, please.”)  
 
Plus, being an amateur baker (currently an abstinent baker as HELLO MY THIGHS ARE NOT GETTING ANY SKINNER AND IT IS LESS THAN A YEAR UNTIL MY WEDDING), I got to pick out various bakeware to pad my collection (I may or may not ever make mini-quiche or mini-tarts but DAMN it I want the mini-quiche/tart pans, just in case).  
 
But therein lays the problem. When you’re picking out things that will ultimately go on someone else’s tab, it’s easy to choose something you don’t really want or need. Like the ice cream/sorbet maker I initially added to the registry because really, Clink? You’re actually going to mix ingredients and wait for them to freeze instead of walking your ass down to the bodega to get a carton of Ben and Jerry’s Phish food? REALLY?  
 
(I took the ice cream maker off.) 
 
Also, I’m nervous about picking things out and still liking them in a year. I am notoriously indecisive (I am a Libra, after all) and I’m afraid that once the gifts start rolling in I’m going to look at the plates/bowls/wine glasses and wrinkle my nose and ask M to remove them from my sight because what the hell was I thinking? 
 
But, for now, I’m feeling confident in my choices. I’m feeling confident in having chosen a wide array of stuff to segue M and I into being a married couple, complete with matching table settings and serving trays and enough pots that we may actually be inspired to cook every once in a while.  
 
It’s weird. But a good weird. A we’re-getting-married good weird.