Seattle adventures, life, home, and coffee—in no particular order
I’ve never been a fan of gift registries. There’s got to be a better way to share in the joy of your loved ones than gifting them with generic measuring spoons, hand towels, and napkin rings.
I vowed not to give in to the materialistic and impersonal wedding registries. We’re better than that, I told myself. And then, somewhere between the third or fourth broken hand-me-down dinner plate and the urgings of both our mothers, I succumbed. With nose turned up (or so I told myself), I grudgingly accepted the “necessary” evil of the registry.
Yet, on the inside, the shopaholic in me had completely and totally embraced the idea. I started cataloging the things we “needed” and the things I simply wanted, dreaming of espresso machines and over-sized wooden serving bowls and something—anything—that matched.
On Saturday morning, after a trip to the Market for coffee, framboise croissants, and some quick Christmas shopping, I convinced Adam it was time to start our Target registry. In retrospect, the jam-packed parking lot should have delayed my mission, but I was hell-bent on crossing something—anything!—off my wedding to-do list.
We set off with our scanner and started making our way through the store with purpose. We could do this!
And then, somewhere between the lawn games and the throw blankets, I started hating myself. We were exhausted, Adam’s work phone kept ringing, and I was overwhelmed by the sheer number of things. I found myself scanning wildly, zapping this eco-friendly kitchen device and that.
We certainly don’t need this stuff. I didn’t even want half of it! But there I was, in the middle of Target, caught in some selfish registry stupor.
In my deepest heart of hearts, all I want is for our friends and family to help us celebrate a public commitment of our love. I hope that if they feel generous, they consider giving not a wine opener, but giving a weekend of their lives to relax, kick back, and have fun on Whidbey. Presents aren’t expected; instead, I’d rather our favorite people treat themselves to a mini-vacation at our expense.
And yet, I still want the loveliest serving ware Crate & Barrel has to offer. Is that so wrong?