No so much doing.

Instead living, I'm doing a lot of that, which is "doing" in the lovliest, most mundane sense of the word.

I'm planning a wedding and that very fact makes my heart sing and sigh, and I've spent so much time looking at wedding dresses I could have possibly written the next great American novel. This does not bother me as much as it should.

Right now my handsome friend is snoring on the couch, I'm nursing a hangover and wishing for breakfast tacos, strange to say that all seems right with the world. We celebrate an early Christmas tomorrow and hung vintage thrift store decorations from a shiny gold chain, an old man cut the chain for us while making bad jokes. All of this seems important. Wedding planning is a funny beast, some decisions I am agonizing over (my dress, my hair) some I make quickly and don't question my choice (the date, gifts for my bridesmaids, flower girl dresses). It will all come together, beautifully I'm sure.