The Wedding Registry.

Registering for a wedding is weird.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s wonderful. But also weird. It feels a bit like making out a Christmas list when you’re a kid. You can’t help but think, “We’re really asking someone to buy us an automatic vegetable peeler? Really…?” Also, “Do we need an automatic vegetable peeler…?”

Well of course we do. How else are we going to make zucchini pasta?

We don’t usually eat zucchini pasta – actually, I don’t think we’ve ever eaten zucchini pasta (because we’ve never had a vegetable peeler)- but the married version of us seems to lead a much more glamorous and put-together lifestyle. One that involves bowls and plates that match, and pots and pans that have lids that fit. And healthy pasta made from vegetables.

“Where are we going to put all of this stuff?” Kyle asked. That’s the thing about registering for a wedding when you’re living in an apartment – there’s barely enough room for the stuff you have now, where are you supposed to put a KitchenAid mixer and an extra set of “nice” dishes “for company”?

“I don’t know.” I said. “We’ll figure it out. Eventually we’re going to have a house.”

Eventually. “Eventually” in like, three years. Probably. Hopefully. Maybe. Fingers crossed.

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