It never fails.

I convinced myself to get out of the house. I've been hibernating and obsessing about wedding details...so many things to look at on the internet.

Out of the house, to *gasp* to go to the gym, a yoga class class no less. And I walked into the already darkened, although I was early, room, to discover that there were no mats. I walked up to a spry looking older woman who was situated at the front of the room, I assumed the instructor, and asked if there were any mats. She looked at me confused, said it was her first time at this place and that she didn't know anything. Not helpful, and not the instructor.

I decided that I could do without and claimed a corner along the wall away from the front. After a few minutes, a much more with it woman, with her teenage daughter, asked if I needed a mat and told me they were outside across the gym. Of course, why didn't I think of that?

I procured a mat and hid back in the corner. As I tried to stretch without drawing attention to myself, the woman blond and graceful, in front of me asked if it was my first day in class.

"Yes," I looked at her more closely, "You're Stephanie right?" We worked together. Of course we did. No hiding inconspicuously, we made some appropriate chit-chat-- kids, vacation, that sort of thing. It was fine.

The yoga instructor came in and set up her mat, a mere five feet from my own, because, in my attempt to sink back into a dark corner I had actually picked the front of the class. Excellent.

And in reality it was, maybe not excellent, but quite nice and there is always something great about a class where the instructor wants you to "listen to your body" to figure out what it can and can't do ways it should and should not be stretched, a class that ends with soft music and deep breathing. The man behind me congratulated me on "doing so well for the first time."

All in all, not a bad way to spend an hour.

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.