Mail Order Bridal

Dear Perfect Wedding Dress,

Where for art thou? Ah yes, the internet. I can see you online. I can order you. But I can not try you on. Or see a sample in an uptight bridal boutique. Temptress.

Sure, you're perfect. So what could be wrong with ordering you sight unseen? Except it will take 4 months for you to get to me here in Canada which is pretty much forever in bridal planning months. Then, if you don't fit, I'll be forced to buy off the rack. Ick. Not that there's anything wrong with that. It's just a *tad* extra pressure. You know, on top of the whole planning-a-wedding-pressure. And I don't want to end up in something fru fru and poofy and beaded.

Plus, your price tag makes me go weak at the knees. Or maybe that's all the white wine.

I dream of you dear dress. All ivory and silky or whatever you're made of. I can picture myself floating down the isle glowing in your perfectness before throwing up over the side of the boat.

I simply must have you. That, and a good seamstress. Perhaps some gravol wouldn't hurt either.

An Open Letter to My Future Boyfriend

Dear [insert delicious sounding name that rolls off my tongue here],

See how patiently I'm waiting? And, looking somewhat mischievous I might add. Perched gracefully (which isn't easy in that outfit or those shoes) atop a mini-step ladder just waiting for you to come graze my thigh and put something special in my box.

And then...

But first. I need to make a confession (or 8).

The Top 8 Things I Need To Confess to My Future Boyfriend:
- I have a blog: The Redhead-Next-Door. Ever hear of it? Oh :( Well, anyway. I wish you could read it and then tell me you want to be with me anyway. You know, after the initial shock wears off and you regain consciousness.
- I need to be lead by a strong man. Not in a passive 1950's house-wife kind of way. But in a knows how to plan a date, fix things when they break, protector, makes me feel cared for kind of way. [Please, no angry letters from feminists! I know what you are thinking, you crazy feminists, and you're wrong].
- I'm not perfect. Or a virgin. (So don't expect me to be either).
- Sometimes I like to cook. Sometimes I don't. Sometimes I try really hard but it still boils over/ burns/ turns to mush/ tastes like cardboard. But I always look cute in an apron.
- I wear men's dress socks.
- I use humor as a defense mechanism.
- What "they" say about redheads - our stubborness, our passion, etc etc - all true
- When all else fails, just hold me.

I'm looking forward to meeting you (hopefully before my ovaries completely rot away).

xoxo,

Erika

Come to Momma

Dear Bloggie,

Please forgive me. I've been a very [very] bad girl.

It was not very nice of me to go away like that so suddenly. Shhhhhh. Shhhhhh. It's ok. Erika's back.

There's a lot that's happened since I've been away. To get you up to speed (without the filler and shameless swearing - well, maybe a bit of the swearing), I thought it'd be best to do a...wait for it...list. I know how you like lists. And when I do that special swirly thing with my tongue.

Top 10 Things That Happened While I Lived As A Non-Blogger:
- Took 3 hour allergy test (using both forearms, plus a bicep). Threat of death if consuming nuts or shelfish replaced by much more practical allergy to all trees and grass.
- Slacked off training for marathon. Will now amp up (ie. start) training and run 10 km in three weeks.
- Gained 5-7 pounds (or possibly 20...I don't own a scale and just ask Mr. Stewart, my Grade 10 math teacher, I was never good at guessing)
- Stopped buying succulant celery because my [ex] boyfriend Liam thinks it tastes like water (yes, yes, we're getting to the "ex" part)
- Had horrible drama-filled Sunday morning complete with door slamming, yelling, breaking up and Tim Hortons and uneaten raisin bread toast. Still bruised from quick and painful fall from Cloud #9.
- Considered taking Liam back
- Considered becoming a lesbian
- Remembered I like penises and teeny tiny man boobies
- Had heart-to-heart talk with Undercover Mother complete with crying, ice cream and cotton candy
- Renewed [possibly lifetime] membership to the "Single Girls Club"

See, you didn't miss too much.

Erika

An Open Letter to My Ex-Boyfriend

Dear [insert name here],

I've deleted your email address so I couldn't send a reply to your too-little-too-late email. Here's all the things I wanted to say about why we "didn't/ don't/ won't work" but held back...

#1: You don't know how to say what you really mean and mean what you really say. Unless it's about something no one cares about, like wind surfing.
#2: You make the worst coffee I've ever tasted (I never thought "ass" was a coffee flavour til I met you).
#3. Yes, that huge crack across the front windshield of your car is unsafe and does make you look like you are too cheap to replace it.

Ok, I'm having way too much fun now...

#4. I find it hard to date a man that wears the same waist-size pants as I do.
#5. I hate the person I become when I'm around only you (too sensitive and too accomodating).
#6. The bumbling fumbling stuttering almost-gentleman Hugh Grant routine is only endearing when done by Hugh Grant.
#7. Ok, so you're a good kisser. But that won't keep a girl warm at night.
#8. You've never actually been in love (your words). I guess you mean, with someone other than yourself...

There. I feel way better now that I got that off my fantastic chest.

Erika

PS - I probably should have told you all of this in the car that day you drove me home. But I knew you weren't being straight with me (I guess some things never change). It seems I've grown tired of being the only one telling the truth.

I really do wish you the best. With someone else.

Out With the Old, In With the New or Slightly Used

Dear clothes closet,

Regretfully, I am writing to announce that tonight some of your inhabitants will be removed. Prepare to be raided, inspected, and modeled like you're in a 1990's movie music montage to Bon Jovi's "You Give Love A Bad Name."

Yes, sadly it is the day when cute little dresses and cardigans everywhere [at my house] whimper at the thought of not being worn once again on a first date to meet that hunky beau full of possibilities and instead are being chucked. Without feeling, without remorse. Like an ex-mate who is neither your current tango partner under the sheets nor your friend but is that symbolic saloon door swinging in and out (and in and out) of your life.

Any inhabitants found with holes, pulls, lowered hems that cannot be mended, missing buttons, missing sleeves and/or holes in unmentionable places shall be sent to clothes heaven. That magical place where all clothes who have lived a good life and seen some action on the field must go to die...er, I mean live out the rest of their days in pieces. Oops, I mean peace.

Much like the latest bobble-head celebutante, I need to purge [my closet] in order to feel free of the chains of 2006. Said purging is a necessary evil. And must be done to make room for new inhabitants, like that sweet pink chiffon blouse I got on sale for $9.99 CDN.

Closet, I hope you understand that as painful as this is, it hurts me more than it does you. And not just because you are an inanimate object devoid of any feelings. Although, that is a big reason.

In love and war,

Erika