I recently got married. :)
The whole day was beautiful and I loved every moment of it. I loved the decorations...the cake....and especially my wedding dress. My dress was bought from the same small town boutique that my grandmother, my mother, and my sister in law got their dresses. It was perfect from the minute I saw it.

Which is why I cant let it sit in a closet...
Or do this... 

Or this...

or even this...

So what can I do with my gorgeous dress?
I can give it to someone who really needs it.
If you are getting married soon, this is a "contest" for you!
My dress is a size 24, with a lace up back, and beaded gatherings in the back. The front is simple and elegant, and hopefully it will find its new home with you!
Write me an essay, make a video, send me pictures....do whatever creatively expresses best your love for your future spouse. Tell me your "story". Tell me why you will be willing to pick up his dirty socks for the rest of your life, or deal with his ridiculous sports obsession, or cope with his irritating extended family...till death do you part. And most importantly, tell me why you need my dress :).
email all entries to me at wenzl.atarah@clarksoncollege.edu and put "A Xanga Bride" as the subject heading. The deadline for your entries will be October 31st, Don't forget it! (If you want to drop a comment and let me know in advance you are entering, I'd love to visit your page and learn a little more about you!)
I'd love to do my part to make your day special with something that made my day special.

      

Day 4 of the letter challenge: Siblings

Dear Don,

I am, and will forever be, incredibly sorry that I took your model car and shoved it under Gene's mattress so he would break it when he slept. I knew how hard you worked on that, but I was just so hurt that I didn't know how else to retaliate. I'm also sorry that we never really knew each other until we were adults. We wasted too much time fighting and being angry with each other. I do want you to know that when I think about you, and remember our childhood, I don't think about the anger or anything like that anymore. I remember you teaching me how to ride a bike. I remember when you would let me play duck hunt with you. I remember all three of us in your bedroom, throwing army men out the window.

I'm proud of the man you have become, regardless of how much Dad bitches. You are hardworking, and you will be an amazing husband for my best friend :).

I love you. (we don't say that enough)

Your little sister.

(I know I've slacked, but thats ok. It's not like anyone reads this. And thats ok too. This isn't for you. Its for me :) so here it is...day three of the challenge, a letter to my parents.)

Dear Mom,

I remember screaming at you. I don't remember what about. I remember I was so angry at everything. We were standing in the middle room of the farmhouse. I was crying. You were crying. You were just standing there looking at me. You weren't mad, event though I was saying horrible things to you. You were just looking at me. Finally, I couldn't take your silence anymore. I yelled at you "What do you want?!" You still just looked at me, wordlessly. The silence stayed for a few more minutes, with me panting with rage the whole time. Then, you looked up, and you spoke. "Who are you?".

I don't know if you remember this, and a part of me hopes you don't. I don't know how you would react if I tell you when I think of our relationship, this is the first memory that comes to mind. There are countless wonderful memories I have with you full of laughter and talks and so much more, but none of them are so paramount to our relationship as this one night.

This one night you made me step back and look at who I was becoming. You made me confront my depression, my hopelessness, my anger. You made me finally want to start crawling out of the pit with a single three-word sentence. In that moment, all the bitterness I had towards you vaporized. I was just your child again. You weren't the "bad guy" anymore. I didn't remember the beatings, the tauntings, the funeral, the sex, or anything else that had turned your tenacious twelve year old child into a terrible force of nature.

That one night, you made me finally gasp for air again.

Dear Dad,

I love you, and I hope you come to understand and respect my choices. I know you will in all areas but one. Even if you never understand, and you never fully respect my choice in that matter....could you please refrain from starting anymore theological fist-fights in a cramped van full of my in-laws? :D (not that I really expected anything different, you are such a difficult old man.) I love you. And I love Jesus. And I'm going to go to a "boring" protestant church that doesn't approve of lying. Deal with it. :D


Love you both,

Pooh.