“These People Are Piggies!”

Good Man and I weren’t going to register for a host of reasons, but Mark talked us into it.

We decided to register tonight because I wanted to avoid a Saturday morning store rush. We headed over to Bed, Bath, and Beyond. On the way there, Good Man crossed off items we didn’t need on a list I printed out from one of those Wedding Industrial Complex websites.

Good Man read each item one-by-one and we decided “yes” or “no.”

“Red wineglasses, white wineglasses, water goblets, champagne flutes, double old-fashioned glasses—what is this stuff?—margar…ita, martini, pilsner? Juice, highball. Twelve of each! These people are piggies!”

Later he asked, “What is a ‘citrus jester?'”

“Jester? Juicer?”

“Jester.”

I looked at the list. “Zester. You know how sometimes I made things that need the peel of an orange or lemon? It helps you scrape off a little bit of the peel.”

Good Man stared at me. “Americans!”

A half page later he came to the panini press. “Huh?”

“You know those squished, grilled sandwiches at Panera? It makes those.”

Good Man said slowly, “OK…but we’re not doing sandwich business.”

When he got to the bathroom section he asked what a soap dispenser was. “It’s something you stick liquid soap in, so you can squeeze it out. Or you can get a soap holder to put bar soap on.”

“Huh?”

“So the sink doesn’t get that grimy soap stuff on it.”

Good Man pretended he was washing his hands. “It’s exercise to pick up the soap from the sink!”

With the list drastically shortened, we filled out the paperwork at BB&B. Their list was, amazingly, even longer than the WICy one. They also suggested we have 100 glasses in our cupboard.

The woman brought out the fine china binder. “We’re not doing fine china.” She brought out the silverware binder. “No silverware.” She brought out the luggage binder. “We’re good for luggage, not doing it.”

“Wow! You guys are easy!”

The manager came over and offered us cold water and asked all kinds of details about the wedding. The woman who was helping up was really interested in learning about Korea. She asked if I speak Korean.

“Not well.”

“You lived there for two years and can’t speak it well?”

I wrote down my name in Korean. I pushed it across the table to her. “Can you read this?”

“No,” she looked very surprised.

“That is just the beginning,” I said.

We got the scanner. In the first half of the store, we scanned three things. Three things. Good Man refused to get any soap holder. One was glass, so that was out. Another wasn’t the right color. Another was “too sharp.”

Good Man must think he’s marrying my grandmother based on the shower curtain he wanted. We don’t own a shower curtain. Our landlord owns our shower curtain. And we won’t own one, as long as he thinks I’m 70 years old.

Good Man is so indecisive. He told me he was like an ajumma. ㅎㅎㅎ

By the time we got to the last section of the store, kitchen utensils, Good Man had really loosened up. He doesn’t cook or bake much, so if I said I wanted a muffin pan, he didn’t question it.

Choosing dishes, glasses (regular old glasses, not stemware), and flatware was remarkably easy at least.

We both liked the same two patterns for dishware. He liked the dishes with the red pattern more. I liked the ones with a different brown pattern more. He couldn’t make up his mind. “Do you want to look at this for twenty years?” I asked.

“We will not have this for twenty years. It will all break.”

“We’re using Caro’s Mother’s wedding dishes and those are more than thirty years old.”

“Really?” Good Man thought for a moment. “Hmm, well, yes, I like this because it had red flowers on it and you should know, sometimes I am like a girl.”

“I don’t know, I like the brown ones better,” I said. Good Man dithered for about five minutes. In that time, I changed my mind. “Actually, I think we should get the red pattern.”

“Yes,” Good Man nodded, “my plan worked. I wait until you agree with me. Yes!”

ㅎㅎㅎ