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present(s) and accounted for

Somebody needs to get with program here, and get some blogging done! Aren't we busy doing things? Don't we have stories to tell? As a matter of fact, we do, but I fear we're not in any condition to tell them. Or rather, I'm not: Leah still has the excuse of her hiatus. But she sent me a link to a post in a friend of hers' blog, and I read a few entries, and was shamed. I used to be funny like that, and incisive and clever... what happened?!

One thing that happened (though I don't know how much this affects by humor and story-telling abilities) is that I clonked my head pretty good on the side of the cabinet the other day: better than I ever did before. Better? Worse! I almost knocked myself out! And Leah wasn't here to take care of me: she had to run off on a business trip practically right after we got back from our honeymoon! So why did I hit my head on the side of the cabinet? Because, you see, I was trying to step over the piles of wedding presents that were filling our entire house at the time.

Getting several thousand dollars worth of gifts has to be the most embarrassing aspect of getting married (aside, perhaps, from having to kiss at instigation of the photographer while cutting the cake). Not that I regret any particular gift, but the shear volume seems something like consumer culture gone mad. We registered at Crate & Barrel; by the time everything was collected in our hot little hands our living room resembled nothing so much as a Crate & Barrel warehouse. And don't even get me started on what it was like when we got all those boxes opened up! Let me tell you, the good folks at C&B don't skimp on the packing material.

And then there was the fact that, while everything we registered for and subsequently received was wonderful and a marvel of home design and/or kitchen engineering, it was clear that it wouldn't all fit in our house. So we took a good lot back to the store, to trade in for more prosaic items such as cooling racks and garlic mashers, objects which I actually had added to the register but which were insignificantly glamorous for folks to want to buy them for us. That was what we did this evening. After we got over our shame at dropping this cart-load of returns on the poor store clerks, we quite enjoyed ourselves: there's something to be said for a prepaid shopping spree where, when your haul is finally rung up, you are not charged but instead presented with a gift card containing an amount of money I am to embarrassed to reveal that we have still to spend, at a later date. We might go into the Boston store to look at furniture. It's that drastic.

So yes, folks did us proud, and we have some classy friends and relatives who aren't afraid to splurge on us a little. And boy do we appreciate it! Thanks, guys!!! Anyone who's in the neighborhood is welcome to stop by for some dinner: we're now ready for some serious cookin and entertainin. That is, when we finally manage to clean up all the styrofoam peanuts.

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