So it's a Saturday and Britt and I are in downtown Santa Barbara walking around after running a wedding few errands. "Hey, we should go register!" says Britt. "You're right. Can we get a mojito after?" I say. "Totes" responds Britt with enthusiasm.
We enter the Sur La Table, talk to a very helpful sales associate and are handed a scanner - which I take with boyish excitement - and off we go.
First stop: the small utensils section. BEEP. I scan, press 6. Move. BEEP. I scan, press 2. Move on. Britt stops and says "What did you just scan?" I pause, thinking about her question. "I dunno. A double action potato smasher. I asked for 2. We may have Thanksgiving at our place one day." The look Britt gave me was one I've seen before. It's what I call the "No-you-didn't-just-do-that-because-you-were-too-busy-having-fun" look. So I put the brakes on my erratic registering tactics and still manage to hold on to scanning privileges.
By the time we made our way to appliances I was exhausted. No joke. We barely made it to glassware and I was ready for my mojito. The registry is a complicated thing. The practice of a bridal registry was first instituted by Chicago-founded department store Marshall Field's in 1924 at its Marshall Field and Company Building as a means for the engaged couple to indicate chosen china, silver and crystal patterns to family and friends.
Now that practice has evolved into a frenzy of mass consumption by young couples looking to acquire items far beyond their means. 8-pc Tumi luggage set? C'mon. Why can't I have 2 dual action potato mashers?
