*thump. thump. thump.*
That'd be the sound of my head.
Neal and I both have long shifts today, so I'm tooling about a bit with online shopping. Hit the point on our registry where I can't remember what else we need, except, "Bookcase! And a hammock!"
...I probably can't explain that one. And neither of the two hammocks in the style we like at the one place at which we're registered has a rating whose look I like.
...explaining why a hammock is a higher priority than, say, a bath mat...actually has a lot more to do with my sense of obligations that need to be fulfilled. The hammock doesn't need to match anything. We are both very fond of hammocks (though, it occurs to me, we will have several months of being married before anything like hammock-weather decides to poke its nose out the clouds) and relaxing out-of-doors rather than inside-on-couch. Fresh air, grass, contact with ground releasing built-up frequencies from all the radars we work with...very nice.
I'm in a weird place with this registry business. In general, it's a lot of, "Meh, I'm not picky. I'll start getting choosy about details when we actually have a place where I need to work with colors and styles," meeting, "No! You're getting married! We want to give you something! Pick something now! START CARING!!"
To which I respond, "Oh! Okay! I hadn't thought of that!" And happily do my best to Start Caring. The problem is, I get a little fuzzy on WHY to care, beyond, "Aunt Carla* wants to give us something, so let's figure out something she can give us!!"
*I do not have an Aunt Carla.
So I start picking things based on...what I think Aunt Carla would LIKE to give us. Really, coming off a good chunk of time where both of our living situations were so much the property of where we worked, neither of us are especially skilled at personal choices and style - just recognizing functionality. There's a fair amount of, what do we think would be useful? I think I chose a bedspread based on what I thought would be relaxing for color scheme. And aside from that, the rest of it has been the idea that people sort of EXPECT to find THIS sort of thing on here, and would be baffled and perhaps judging if we had an item on our registry that they considered to be less of a priority than these other six things.
Okay, forget that "we" business on that one - Neal handles criticism with a fair amount of Biblical practicality. I have the tendency to be, "AGH! DON'T HURT ME!" when it comes to what people think of me.
Better yet, what I think people think of me. I kind of assume that the majority pay no attention, a smaller minority are continually exasperated or disappointed, and the 5-12 people I spend the most time with over here actually like me. I'm generally startled anytime one of the first two are proven wrong.
I suspect all of this is exactly what every other woman in her twenties is going through approaching her marriage. (I'm told that as you get into your thirties, you care a lot less what people think of you. Right now, I'm just able to identify sometimes when something more important than condemnation is going on.)
And somewhere, quietly, I hear one of the mom-voices soothing, "Relax. It's okay. Somehow, it will all work out."
That'd be the sound of my head.
Neal and I both have long shifts today, so I'm tooling about a bit with online shopping. Hit the point on our registry where I can't remember what else we need, except, "Bookcase! And a hammock!"
...I probably can't explain that one. And neither of the two hammocks in the style we like at the one place at which we're registered has a rating whose look I like.
...explaining why a hammock is a higher priority than, say, a bath mat...actually has a lot more to do with my sense of obligations that need to be fulfilled. The hammock doesn't need to match anything. We are both very fond of hammocks (though, it occurs to me, we will have several months of being married before anything like hammock-weather decides to poke its nose out the clouds) and relaxing out-of-doors rather than inside-on-couch. Fresh air, grass, contact with ground releasing built-up frequencies from all the radars we work with...very nice.
I'm in a weird place with this registry business. In general, it's a lot of, "Meh, I'm not picky. I'll start getting choosy about details when we actually have a place where I need to work with colors and styles," meeting, "No! You're getting married! We want to give you something! Pick something now! START CARING!!"
To which I respond, "Oh! Okay! I hadn't thought of that!" And happily do my best to Start Caring. The problem is, I get a little fuzzy on WHY to care, beyond, "Aunt Carla* wants to give us something, so let's figure out something she can give us!!"
*I do not have an Aunt Carla.
So I start picking things based on...what I think Aunt Carla would LIKE to give us. Really, coming off a good chunk of time where both of our living situations were so much the property of where we worked, neither of us are especially skilled at personal choices and style - just recognizing functionality. There's a fair amount of, what do we think would be useful? I think I chose a bedspread based on what I thought would be relaxing for color scheme. And aside from that, the rest of it has been the idea that people sort of EXPECT to find THIS sort of thing on here, and would be baffled and perhaps judging if we had an item on our registry that they considered to be less of a priority than these other six things.
Okay, forget that "we" business on that one - Neal handles criticism with a fair amount of Biblical practicality. I have the tendency to be, "AGH! DON'T HURT ME!" when it comes to what people think of me.
Better yet, what I think people think of me. I kind of assume that the majority pay no attention, a smaller minority are continually exasperated or disappointed, and the 5-12 people I spend the most time with over here actually like me. I'm generally startled anytime one of the first two are proven wrong.
I suspect all of this is exactly what every other woman in her twenties is going through approaching her marriage. (I'm told that as you get into your thirties, you care a lot less what people think of you. Right now, I'm just able to identify sometimes when something more important than condemnation is going on.)
And somewhere, quietly, I hear one of the mom-voices soothing, "Relax. It's okay. Somehow, it will all work out."
No comments:
Post a Comment