Let’s pretend today is July 3.  Why, why, why James and I thought it was a bright idea to take the second wedding-registry step… the day after the first one… I have no idea… but we apparently love testing fate, so that’s precisely what we did.  This time, we ventured to:

After our first registry experience at Crate and Barrel, I didn’t have high hopes for this scanning day.  Sure, I still dreamed of the All Clad, KitchenAid and the works, but point-blank — I wasn’t going out of my way to fulfill those desires.  No, instead I was going to give James the power (aka scanner) the second time… knowing my plan was to slip into his shadow and follow him around the store.  Sad?  Completely!  But I wanted to be behind the scenes this time.  …On the other hand, my fiance had the exact opposite dreams — He adores Bed, Bath and Beyond.  This is probably the one place I can actually encourage him to shop with me… and you know what?  “Encourage” isn’t even the right word, because he needs no coaxing.  Here’s the catch — All those darn gadgets.  He loves those things.  I’m convinced he was foaming at the mouth to register for any and every gadget…  He may disagree, but because this is my blog, it makes me right.  The top gadget on James’ man-cave list:

Dyson Air Multiplier at Bed, Bath and Beyond

A bladeless fan.  …Yep.  A bladeless fan.  Okay.  Let me say, to whoever created the bladeless fan, I think it’s great; I think it’s nifty; I think it serves a wonderful purpose, and it puts out a lot of air.  HOWEVER, let me now say to all those brides that have registered before — REALLY?!  My soon-to-be groom wants a BLADELESS FAN?!  *A moan of unhappiness*  I wonder what groom-items previous brides have moaned over…

Luckily… oh, ever so luckily, when we enter Bed, Bath and Beyond and that ridiculous (sorry, James) bladeless fan was the first thing we bumped into.  James was so happy; he looked at me — pure excitement in his eyes — and said, “BABE!  CAN WE REGISTER FOR IT?!”  I kindly told him, I don’t think we need one.  To which he grumbled, “What if we do need a fan?”… in a way that made his rhetorical question sound so obvious and in need of agreement.  My answer though was simple: “Love.  We don’t need a fan.  If the power goes out, the fan won’t work because it has to be pulled in.  Further, the only reason we’d need a fan is if we lived with no AC, and damned if I’m living in a place that has no AC.”  The end.  Our discussion was over.  He dropped his head and moseyed behind me, bladeless fan now a distant shadow.  (…It actually breaks my heart thinking about it… Geez louise!  Should we really put that bladeless fan on the registry?!)

Together we went into the kitchen section… where sadly, I still wasn’t excited… which is why I decided we should take it in small, simple steps.  “Let’s start at tupperware,” I say, full of hope.  Tupperware — something non-combative, something that can’t be disputed, something so unimportant we could easily scan.  I show him the tupperware I’m hoping we can get — it has pop lids and is airtight (and by airtight, I mean legitimately air.tight).

OXO Good Grips Food Storage Pop Containers at Bed, Bath and Beyond

… and James, he’s fine with it.  *Whew* Crisis averted.  So I pull out my handy-dandy notes (yes, I am obsessive compulsive; I blame my dad), and I start listing the sizes we should register for.  “Fiance, we need one for sugar.  A bag of sugar is five pounds… so we need the 2.5 quart container.”  James finds it, scans it.  Next.  “We need a one quart for brown sugar.”  (Sidenote: I HATE brown sugar bags… hate with a passion of all passions.  I hate how they are flimsy, how they are sticky, how you can never seem to ever get brown sugar out because the ridiculous bag gets in the way.  Yes, I cannot wait for a brown sugar container.  End Sidenote.)  James finds the one quart, scans it… and again, we move on.  One for rice… scanned, done.  …One for noodles…  Ohhh those noodles…  *Deep breath*

I say, “We need a container for noodles — like angel hair, fettuccine, linguine, lasagna; those types of noodles.”  James grabs the designated ‘noodle’ container…

…to which I say yes… then I say no… and ask if there’s a skinner one?  James eyes all and answers, “No.”  I then examine the container and complain, “That just won’t do.  It’s way bigger than a box of noodles so it won’t save space.  The whole point in these containers is to organize and save space.”  James takes the container and tries to find a solution: “Why don’t you put two noodles in the noodle container?”  From here… all hell broke loose.
Me: “Two noodles in the noodle container?  What does that mean?”
Him: “It means just that — Two. noodles. in. the. noodle. container.”
Me: “James.  I don’t understand.  What are you talking about?!  Two noodles — like an angel hair noodle and a second angel hair noodle?!”
James: “WHAT?!  No!  Of course not, Laura.”  And he repeats (as if it will suddenly make sense), “Put t-w-o noodles in the noodle container.”
Time for the sure indication that I’m about to be beyond a reasoning point: “Okay.  Jay, you are speaking Spanish.  I do. not. understand.  Please speak English.”  See, James and I say this when we don’t understand each other.  I say he speaks Spanish; he says I speak French; and basically it means we need to figure out how to translate the Spanish or French into English.
At my retort, he sighs and says, “Look.  Put two noodles (*hand motioning putting ‘two noodles’ in* — whatever ‘two noodles’ mean) into the noodle container” …then looks at me and… smiles… as if he’s translated his perplexing Spanish sentence!  Oh, but that smile was the straw that broke the camel’s back.  I started angrily whispering, “I said I. do. not. understand. you.  What — on earth — are you talking about?!  Two noodles?!  What does that even mean?!  Why would we get a noodle container to hold only two freaking noodles?!  Or do you mean two noodles — like linguine and angel hair mixed?!  I AM N.O.T MIXING MY NOODLES!!!”

The ugly truth now is that I’ve forced my fiance — who is honest to God, the most patient man on the earth — to lose it.  “WHY do you not understand?!?!  TWO NOODLES.  Go I-N-T-O the noodle container (*again, forceful ‘noodle’ motions occur).  One noodle box — IN.  A second noodle box — IN.  TWO. NOODLE. BOXES. of the same noodle. go into the container!”  Here, he thrusts the stupid container at me — which PS-I’m sitting on the ground… and he’s standing, looming over me.

The good news — After his outburst, I finnnally figured out what the heck my fiance was intending to say: He meant put two full boxes — of the same noodles — into the container.  …Well… I would like to say, we reconciled, that things improved then… but that’s just not the truth.  See, we sorta kinda noticed people were trying to get by… and we sorta kinda ignored them… and by people, I mainly mean an adorable, pitiful grandma — the kind that’s about four-feet tall and holds onto the cart for support.  Well, this poor grandma was politely trying to get through the aisle by us, but we were acting so ruthless that we both refused to move!  In fact, that poor woman had to go around us!  So as people tip-toed around our debate, James and I continued our argument on if buying more food — solely to fill a big noodle container — was rational.

How did the debate finally end, one may ask?  Like only our debates can: My sweet fiance — driven to his wits’ end — gave up.  He reached a shaky hand to a top shelf, returning the container… when he misplaced the daggon thing… and it toppled… into the other noodle containers — like dominos.  …And here’s the icing on the cake: They all come crashing down onto… me.  At this point, he’s swatting at the containers to protect my head — as they fall in the middle of the isle… in a crowded, public store… and I’m… laughing.  Laughing at the whole thing.  This is typical of us.  And you know what?  I realize again I love ‘us’ — even if we are ridiculous, fighting over tumbling noodle containers.  Even if we have an ugly side.  It makes our life interesting.  Truth be completely told, James and I together make one amazing person, and that is what love is.  I might lose my temper… and fuss and yell… in a busy store; and he might lose his patience… and throw containers (at me)… in a busy store… but gosh darn it, I would rather have this — every single day of my entire life — than anything ordinary.  Ordinary is boring; I want unique.

After that, I apologized for losing my temper; he apologized too.  We then — as they say — kissed and made-up… and moved on — moved on in the store and moved on at heart.

2 thoughts on “Ordinary is Boring; I Long to be Unique

    1. Hi Jeanmarie! Great advice, and I completely agree! I should remember that saying more for when I try new foods… That’s what made me first start blogging because I used to be a picky eater, but now I find myself exploring more. Still, if I get stuck on any food in the future, I’m going to think of this 🙂
      Do you blog? If so, what is your blog site? I’d love to see it! I’m so excited to get a comment back from you!
      Have a great weekend!

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