My Interpretive Dance of a Bull in a China Shop

One part of the first year of marriage ritual that Manboy and I are engaged in is the closing of the William Ashley registry. We didn't really need it a couple of the older folk bought flatware and stuff but most of the registry was at MEC which is way way more practical.

Ashley's fills me with a sense of dread and doom. I am not and never will be "a co-ordinated" person I am what folks call a spaz...a loud spaz...a loud crass spaz. Characteristics that only become magnified here:

I was going to cash out the flatware and buy some knives. I was going to do this alone - so I brought some reinforcements, some which shouldn't surprise most of you...the knitterly group of readers may recognize my liquid army. You'll also see the Trekking XXL sock and the Matinee Baby Sweater in Debbie Bliss Cashmerino I can't remember the colour way but it's like creamsicle and soft like buttah...

Turns out I didn't need to be scared of all the exorbitantly prices spectacularly sharp knives - the trekking warmed them right up. Turns out that Ashley's doesn't like pictures of their stuff so I had to surreptiously take a pic of the beautiful and unattainable knives.

Of course, once the snobby welcome lady saw the popsicle juice all over the front of my shirt she passed us off to Jenny in Gourmet. Everything was really exciting to Jenny - the friendliest of all Ashley staff - she hooked us up. I'm convinced that Jenny is most exhausted at the end of the day...seriously it was like everything was a surprise - all exciting.

We went for the shticky option which also costed less than our monthly rent and makes us laugh everytime we cook. The Manboy says that he's never had so many people chat with him on the TTC before - I feel this may be the definitive icebreaker

The question I put to you fine reader, is what should we call little Stabby here?