One more thing checked off the wedding list

I went out this morning and put the deposit on our reception hall. HTB's brother and sister had their receptions there, and it's a nice place. We had briefly thought about following his family tradition of getting married in the old parish church across the street--his family has been in this county for 150 years, and his grandparents were married there as well as others--but I'm not Catholic and I would have had to go through classes for us to be married there. HTB and I talked it over, and, since he doesn't have a preference, and I have already changed denominations once, from Lutheran to Episcopalian, and I feel a very special bond to my church, we just decided it was better to be married in an Episcopal church. We still have to have some pre-wedding counseling, which he was initially against, but I told him everyone makes you do it, so he needed to suck it up and do the counseling.

It's hard to believe I'm getting married in 8 1/2 months. I'm sure HTB is getting tired of the random outbursts of, "when we exchange rings, we have to repeat the vows to each other" and, "I'm trying to find a dress that you'll cry when you see it." He insists he won't cry. He insists he didn't cry when he proposed to me, either. I know differently; through my blubbering, I do remember he said, "Look, I'm not asking this again" and his eyes started brimming with tears. I know that much.

I started working out again this week. I'd been slacking off, but I have been getting on the elliptical. It's very good to burn off frustration, and I can think clearly. Not stitching much, though. Reversing the way I stitch is slow going. I keep having to frog. But it's worth it.

This weekend, I am participating in a Polar Bear Plunge to benefit Maryland Special Olympics. Everyone thinks I'm nuts, especially because the high is supposed to be 26 and it's supposed to be snow showers all day. But it's for a good cause. I can sacrifice a few moments of comfort to benefit others. And I view it as a challenge to myself. I don't like the cold, I don't like ice. I don't like snow. OK, I HATE THOSE THINGS. I don't like being out of my comfort zone--it's cozy here, we have TV and caramels, the soundtrack to Forrest Gump plays-- but, in this year of momentous changes in my identity, maybe it's time to get out of the comfort zone, and challenge myself. And that's really what this is to me. Instead of avoiding cold and discomfort, I'm going to run at it, yelling, "Woo hoo."