Registruction

Sean and I have spent the last two weeks working on our wedding registries, and while some of the items we've selected are practical and necessary (coasters and pillows, anyone?) others are downright luxuries. Unfortunately, the three that I'm currently lusting after have the potential to do a lot of damage to my wardrobe, my waistline, and my well-being. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Heart Attack Collection:

Ice cream is my absolute favorite thing in the entire world. If I were sitting outside of an igloo wearing a bikini in the middle of January, I would still embrace a bowl of ice cream. Homemade ice cream is an extra special treat that I'm almost never able to enjoy because A) it's full of fat and B) my mom's great great great grandmother once cranked ice cream in our ice cream maker using milk from a German-speaking cow THAT SHE MILKED HERSELF! Suffice it to say, I've been looking forward to registering for a more modern maker pretty much since the day I met Sean. In fact, Sean probably could have gotten down on one knee and presented me with an ice cream maker instead of a ring and I would have been just as enthused.

This is the fiance's registry obsession. He's been talking about registering for a deep-fryer for a good, solid year, and I've been resisting almost as long. I just didn't think we had enough klass to request such a present. But after months of subliminal deep-fryer messaging (onion riiiiiings...donuuuuuuuts...sweet potato friiiiiiiies...), Billy Bob Sean finally wore me down, so on Saturday morning we kicked off our shoes, hopped on our four wheeler, and cruised over to Walmart to set up our registry. No, that's a lie. We actually registered for it at Target right after we picked out our crystal goblets and our $2,100 gravy boat. And I have to admit that I, too, am now dreaming about all the goodies we could throw in there: cookie dough? peanut butter sandwiches? ICE CREAM FROM MY ICE CREAM MAKER!? Whoa, hold on, I think a few of my teeth just fell out.

I enjoy waffles quite a lot, but I don't eat them very often anymore. Still, for the past few weeks I've had a recurring daydream about getting up late on a Saturday morning, flinging open the windows, and enjoying a batch of waffles covered in whipped cream and strawberries with my hubby while we channel surf through various college football games.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to run 13 miles before I go to bed.