I leave my home, and the instant my journey begins men grapple over me, fighting to help me into the car. Once we arrive to the wedding both men fight over who has the pleasure to help me out of the car, the smaller man watches on the sidelines as his buddy escorts me into the reception hall. I lay in wait until I choose to be unveiled, unrolled and presented; front and center, dominating the scene, deep brown, waxed, and beautiful. The men leave, and I sit alone, waiting for the guests to arrive.

Their presence is first apparent by the swish-swish of dresses and the clatter of coat hangers. As the hall fills with friends and family of the bride and groom, they stand around me admiring my gorgeous exterior, and awkwardly chat until the two guests of honor sweep into room. The man, with long broad heavy steps, and his new wife, with short unstable steps, unaccustomed to her tall heels, stand tentatively on me. After a few uncomfortable, but gracious, words the party kicks off and I regain my rightful spot as the center of attention.

The dancing and revelries continue late into the night, and I remain the most important facet of the room. Until, as if a monsoon swept them away, everyone leaves and I sit unattended as the young couple stands in front of a large table cutting and sharing food. This one act of insolence is the turning point of the night, and things progressively get worse.

It starts with the clumsy eaters, propelled by children yearning to spend time with me, who spill their food and drink on me, the acidic soda and champagne eats away at my varnish and my beauty. Next are the clumsy dancers, encouraged by an open bar and a multitude of single women, yearning for their soul mate. The scuffs their shoes mar my surface and irk me. I just want to go back to my cool warehouse, and spend some time decompressing.

I’ve never been happier then when the party finally winds down. The entire family seems to make a point of standing and walking across me as they leave. And my two heroes finally come back and rescue me from the empty expanse. They are late, as usual and I’m roughly shoved into my case, and back into the van, and it seems as if the two meatheads driving hit every pothole on the way back.

PART DOS

Dear Diary,

I have waited so long for this day, and to see it come to its fruition was possibly the most perfect, fulfilling and romantic moment in my life. I was so overjoyed when today day went of without a hitch, but what can you expect; I planned this to the very last detail, from the color of the chairs to the mahogany dance floor.

Our day started off at the wedding when the state troopers escorted us to the 12th Century Roman Catholic Church, only to be met by a bona-fide cardinal who preformed the rites and, to my embarrassment, posed for pictures afterwards.

Both Charles and I had written our own vows, but there was none of the typical new age flowery nonsense that normally occurs. After I accepted the ring, said, “I do” and sung some hymns we were able to get on to the meat of this whole shindig, the reception.

By the time Charles and I arrived most of our guests, and all of our most important friends were already assembled on the shiny dance floor that dominated the center of the gargantuan country club reception hall. We waltzed into the center of them, and danced to our favorite song. After the few minutes of awkward gawking other guests joined us.

From there our night progressed on to dinner; fillet mignon, tossed greens and a corn salad. After the plates had been cleared my parents and friends toasted our health, relationship and wished us luck for our days to come. Afterwards we cut the cake and moseyed around chit chatting with our guests and thanking them for their presence.

The party didn’t wind down until twelve o’clock and after all of the people had left we retired to the bedroom upstairs, after surveying the wreckage we had incurred on the tables, dance floor and bar.

The next morning we left for Australia were we plan to spend a week in Sydney and the brush, enjoying the wildlife and the nightlife.

I am only mildly upset that it’s been two days since I’ve written because I enjoy the non-stop action, and the organized chaos (As Charles puts it). It’s nice to get a little me time on the plane so I can gear up for our week of adventure.

Ta ta for now,

Nora

Dear Diary,

         I have waited so long for this day, and to see it come to its fruition was possibly the most perfect, fulfilling and romantic moment in my life. I was so overjoyed when today day went of without a hitch, but what can you expect; I planned this to the very last detail, from the color of the chairs to the mahogany dance floor.

         Our day started off at the wedding when the state troopers escorted us to the 12th Century Roman Catholic Church, only to be met by a bona-fide cardinal who preformed the rites and, to my embarrassment, posed for pictures afterwards. The Church was all decked out in gorgeous gothic architecture, stained glass windows and ornate wooden pews.

         Both Charles and I had written our own vows, but there was none of the typical new age flowery nonsense that normally occurs. After I accepted the ring, said, “I do” and sung some hymns we were able to get on to the meat of this whole shindig, the reception.          

         By the time Charles and I arrived most of our guests, and all of our most important friends were already assembled on the shiny dance floor that dominated the center of the gargantuan country club reception hall. We waltzed into the center of them, and danced to our favorite song. After the few minutes of awkward gawking other key guests joined us like our parents, siblings, and other facets of the wedding. 

         From there our night progressed on to dinner; fillet mignon, tossed greens and a corn salad. After the plates had been cleared my parents and friends toasted our health, relationship and wished us luck for our days to come. Afterwards we cut the cake and moseyed around chit chatting with our guests and thanking them for their presence. 

         The party didn’t wind down until twelve o’clock and after all of the people had left we retired to the bedroom upstairs, after surveying the wreckage we had incurred on the tables, dance floor and bar. 

         The next morning we left for Australia were we plan to spend a week in Sydney and the brush, enjoying the wildlife, the sea creatures and the nightlife.

         I am only mildly upset that it’s been two days since I’ve written because I enjoy the non-stop action, and the organized chaos (As Charles puts it).  It is nice to get a little me time on the plane so I can gear up for our week of adventure.

 

Ta ta for now,

Nora

Writing Assignment 5 Draft 1

I leave my home, and the instant my journey begins men grapple over me, fighting to help me into the car, I love the extra attention these burly men lather on me, their guttural grunts excite me to my core. Once we arrive to the wedding both men fight over who has the pleasure to help me out of the car, the smaller man watches on the sidelines as his buddy escorts me into the reception hall, until he grabs my outer wraps, and stores them in the coat room. I lay in wait until I choose to be unveiled, unrolled and presented; front and center, dominating the scene, deep brown, waxed, and beautiful.  The men leave, and I sit alone, waiting for the guests to arrive.

Their presence become apparent at first by the swish-swish of their dresses and the clatter of coat hangers, dropped by clumsy hosts.  As this vast hall fills with friends and family of the bride and groom, they stand around me admiring my gorgeous exterior awkwardly chattering until the two guests of honor sweep into room. The man, with long broad heavy steps, and his new wife, with short unstable steps, unaccustomed to her tall heels stand tentatively on me. After a few uncomfortable but gracious words the party kicks off, and I regain my rightful spot as the center of attention at first only joined by the newlyweds, but the other guests acknowledge me as well.

The dancing and the revelries continue late into the night, and I remain the most important facet of the room. Until, as if a monsoon swept them away, everyone leaves, and I sit unattended and unloved as the young couple stands in front of a large table cutting and sharing food. This one act of insolence is the turning point of the night, and the night only progressively gets worse.

It starts with the clumsy eaters, propelled by children yearning to get their time with me, who spill their food and drink on me, the acidic soda and champagne eats away at my varnish and my beauty. Next are the clumsy dancers encouraged by an open bar and a multitude of single women yearning for their soul mate. The scuffs their shoes make mar my surface and irk me. I just want to go back to my cool warehouse, and spend some time decompressing.

I have never been happier then when the party finally winds down. The entire family seems to make a point of standing and walking across me as they leave. And my two heroes finally come back and rescue me from the empty expanse.  They are late, as usual. The take no time to remove the scuff marks or clean off the sticky marks of spilled soda and beer. I’m roughly shoved into my case, and back into the van, and it seems as if the two meatheads driving hit every pothole and every speed bump at full throttle.  Finally I’m unloaded and home.