In six short weeks I will officially join the ranks of those bound in Holy Matrimony, although I'm told that no actual physical binding will occur on the Big Day or for any foreseeable time thereafter. The jury's still out as to how I feel about this.
I approach this particular milestone in my life with no trace of trepidation aside from the persistent feeling that my beautiful bride-to-be will one day come to her senses and drop her soon-to-be-middle-aged unlicensed architect fiancée with a sporadic blogging habit and a raging addiction to both gin and nicotine for a more suitable lifelong partner (an out of work crack whore, perhaps?). The nuptial preparations have reached a feverish pitch, nonetheless.
In fact, the lovely Atomizerette and I have come to the point in the wedding planning process where things finally get interesting. I speak, of course, about the Gift Registry Stage. Up until now, it has been all about flowers and music and dresses and shoes and rings and invitations and meal selection and napkin presentation. I'm not joking here, folks. Our "Event Coordinator" recently asked us how we wanted the napkins to be displayed on the dinner tables: fan-fold, tri-fold or elegantly placed in each guest's water glass (before the water is introduced, I presume). We opted for the tri-fold. We ain't savages, for cryin' out loud!
This Gift Registry Stage is something that I can really get excited about. All I have to do is walk the floors of a few local retail establishments with a laser scanner in my hand, pull the trigger whenever I catch a glimpse of an item that tickles my fancy and two months later it appears in my living room. (I must mention here that the "movie cop" approach to gift scanning...you know what I mean...prowling around the store with the barrel of the laser gun pressed up against your cheek and "surprising" your target with the quick aim and shoot maneuver...is funny only once. ONCE!!!)
That's where we found ourselves this past Sunday afternoon, roaming the racks at Pier 1 and Marshall Fields picking out things that we really don't need but feel obligated to ask for. And why not, really? I've been on the giving end of so many weddings in my thirty-seven years, that it's about time I'm on the receiving end. Gimme what's mine, dammit, and to hell with practicality! I'll take one of those pasta machines, a deep fat fryer, a couple of those crystal martini glasses and a jewel encrusted cocktail shaker...and don't forget about the place settings!
By the time we're through with this thing, we'll be able to serve homemade crepes, onion rings and orrechetti to the entire Togolese Republic on fine bone china plates...and everyone gets a free matching gravy boat as a parting gift.
As engrossed in this process of amassing a great fortune of useless items as I was, I couldn't help but notice a very disturbing trend. Everywhere I looked, there were chickens. Chickens on serving platters. Chickens on salt and pepper shakers. Chickens on cheese plates. Chickens on napkins. Chickens on napkin rings. Chickens on aprons. Chickens on plaques. Chickens on candleholders. Chickens on clocks. Chickens on photo holders. Chickens as centerpieces.
Pier 1 even had little wooden poseable chicken dolls placed on various furniture items throughout the store. I have no idea if these little beasts were for sale or if the cursed bastards were sent here to torment me by the devil himself but by the end of our shopping spree, I was more than a little creeped out.
Suffice it to say, if I see one freaking chicken on "Gift Opening Day", I'm going to lose it. Unless, of course, the little guy comes with the Presto Cool Daddy electric deep fryer with removable pot. I could really use one of those.
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