Lately, with all of the wedding gifts rolling in, I dream about the day that Logan and I will have a house. Yes, we have a home in our tiny, cramped apartment, which is a poetic part of life that I absolutely consider valuable. After all, every newlywed couple needs to experience a little bit of inconvenience in their first few residences–as my dad says while peering at me over his glasses, “it builds character.” I appreciate it, I really do.
But, a girl can dream.
I don’t expect to actually have a 10,000-square-foot, multi-million dollar home, but to spread our stuff out would be nice. At least so that we don’t have our possessions piled in corners because the closets are already full.
Oh, and that’s another thing. I am So. Tired. Of Stuff. You young couples out there may think that registering for wedding gifts will be a romantic and life-changing experience, but I am here to tell you that you are wrong. The truth is, Miss Manners will smite you if you do not register for at least 300 gifts–or enough for everyone on your invitation list to have options. Also, you have to include in the registry an ungodly amount of $15-$30 gifts (even if you don’t want them) because you don’t want people to think that you are high maintenance for registering a lot of expensive presents.
Now, let me make a disclaimer: I love that all of our friends and family love us and want to show us their happiness. Truthfully, this was100% all my own fault because I decided to do things the traditional way in fear that I would miss out on some important life experience otherwise (which, now that I think about it, is the reason I had a big wedding in the first place). There were multiple times throughout my engagement process that I grew bewildered because I thought, “I DON’T NEED THIS.” How often will I really use those napkin rings or that small kitchen appliance? If I could go back, I would register for the things that Logan and I really needed, like maybe new pots and pans, Pyrex storage containers, new dishes and glassware, etc., and add nothing else. Then, if people wanted to send a gift after all that was gone, they could send money or gift cards. I could shop for more decorative items the way I like to do–by picking up things here and there–instead of everything coming from 3 or 4 stores.
Maybe this is all just me being overly critical of the traditional wedding extravagance, but I do like to keep things simple. My kitchen cabinets, for example. I like to have a place for everything that does not entail a drawer overstuffed with utensils. If I can’t have an enormous kitchen with bukoos♠ of storage space for my waffle maker and panini press, then I want to get down to the bare essentials. Part of this rant was inspired by a wonderful little book that I discovered at Hastings the other day. It is called “The Stocked Kitchen,” by Sarah Kallio and Stacey Krastins.
This little pot of gold gives the reader a permanent grocery list of items that should be perpetually stocked in one’s kitchen. That way, you never run out of anything you need and you don’t impulse-buy. It includes tons of recipes that you can make with those items, and of course you can always make your own, too. When we get back from Scotland and have some sort of permanent residence, this is happening.
One day. And I can wait. It’s all part of life :)
♠ Bukoos is a very Southern word that implies an inordinate amount of something, often in a messy and disorganized state.