"...on good ol' Camelback."

Searching for venues online is about as productive as dress shopping online - what looks good on the 'model' may not translate so well in person. Particularly my person. Of course, a possibly misleading photograph is better than no photograph at all, at least in the world of international wedding planning. I'm beginning to become disillusioned with my 'hometown' wedding what with all of the pitfalls of a destination wedding included, minus the sand. But I keep reminding myself that all of the research now will make it much easier to accomplish a lot in just the little time we'll be in Pennsylvania this Christmas.

Now my original idea of having a Christmas wedding in western Pennsylvania was that it would be sparkly and pretty and white. Keyword being white. I had images in my head of when I was growing up and there was always at least ten feet of snow on the ground in December. Then recent years descended upon my consciousness and I began to recall images of gray skies, dead trees and mud. A world of brown is definitely not on my list of 'must haves' come December 2010. So naturally I came up with a handy solution: ski resorts. Ski resorts have long been popular places to hold beautiful weddings without going too far out of one's way. Thus began my online venue search.

The first thing I did was to email Seven Springs Resort, Pennsylvania's most famous. They got back to me right away, and I excitedly opened the email, visions of snow capped mountains in my head. "I'm sorry to be the one to shatter your illusions and destroy your fantasies, but we simply don't do winter weddings as they interrupt our ski season," read the reply. Or something like that. Only probably much more diplomatic. Crushed, I ran to Him and lamented the situation. Before he had time to console me, I'd already realized that perhaps the smaller resorts in the area wouldn't be so fussy. Renewed, I returned to my computer to run a search on Pennsylvania ski resorts.

I'm not sure if you're aware, but there are some very comically named ski resorts. He and I cheerfully pictured ourselves being wed at The Blue Knob and the hilarity it would bring to our friends. Clearly they're not as mature as we are. Camelback, Big Bear, Eagle Rock and Elk Mountain round out the animal-themed resorts. Great places to ski, but I can't exactly picture saying my vows on good ol' Camelback. Jack Frost Ski Resort naturally piqued all of my winter wonderland fantasies, at least until a perusal of their website revealed no lodge in which to host weddings. I can't get through to Hidden Valley, and two other resorts have sent their regrets at being unable to host a winter wedding. While there are still a few other places that I have yet to contact, we've pretty much moved on to other options.

We're leaning now toward something in the Pittsburgh area. Our favorite option at the moment is Springwood. They have a large glass atrium that will fit up to 120 people for a winter wedding. Their photographs show a beautifully decorated place with tall Christmas trees in front of the expansive windows looking out into a winter fairytale. And they'll hold both the ceremony and the reception. They have a fabulous fireplace in the cocktail room that we can make use of during the turnover, and they're free for our projected date. They've responded to my email in a rather ambiguous way - they won't discuss pricing at all unless it's in person. So we won't really be able to get an idea of whether or not it's feasible until December of this year. But we're definitely keeping our fingers crossed for this gorgeous winter wedding destination. And looking into renting snow making machines. Just in case.

*All photographs are the property of Springwood Conference Center*

"...and a fabulous dress."

Since going from 'girlfriend' to the ever more illustrious 'fiancee,' I have been happily ensconced in a routine of opening engagement cards from family and friends in the morning and pouring over wedding websites for, well, the rest of the day. But then I recieved a card from a favourite aunt that read, "All you need is love...and a fabulous dress." Suddenly I morphed from contented fiancee into panicked bride-to-be. I mentally catalogued all of the stress-free, fun 'planning' I'd been doing so far and realized a horrible truth. Each idea that I came up with, each color scheme, each venue...all were preceded with the words "depending on the dress." That was it. No more plans could be made until I found it-the perfect wedding dress.

Of course, being a carrier of two x-chromosomes I naturally had my perfect dress in mind. Just as I naturally had fifty alternatives. This, as any experienced bride or bride-to-be will tell you, means it's time to hash out a few of the broadest details of the upcoming nuptuals with your intended so as to help you narrow down a few of the practicalities for your perfect gown. "Darling," I said to Him that night, "I'd like to get married in Pennsylvania in December." That discussion finished, I was able to cross lingerie-thin silks and spaghetti straps off my dream gown list. Time for step two.

Step two involves an excellent internet connection as my mother, sister, girlfriends, neighbor, great-aunt Tilly, and myself all rapid-fire images of this and that beautiful dress to one another's email. This helps for two reasons. One, great-aunt Tilly's search for "demure lace and taffeta" comes up with much different results from my sister's "sexiest wedding dresses of all time," thereby giving me a wider range of styles to consider. And two, it allows me to get an idea of everybody's sense of beautiful so that I can have a list of non-offending "it's lovely,but" excuses at the ready for the forthcoming shopping frenzy.

The tricky part is to pinpoint exactly what it is about different dresses that I like and don't like. I've now got huge lists of necklines, waistlines and hemlines, complete with photographs, separated into likes and don't likes. Pouffy is just not flattering. Those stupid bubble-bottom skirts look like deflated balloons. And Pin-tucked taffeta makes me want to go on a dress-destroying rampage. I tend to pick out A-lines and asymmetrical dropped waistlines. Sparkly makes me go "ooh," while structured makes me go "ew."

After nearly two months of online dress searches, I have a pretty detailed idea of what looks terrible and what looks fabulous. Unfortunately it has recently occurred to me that what I really have is an idea of what looks fabulous on the tall, rail-thin and beautiful girls modelling the wedding gowns. Though I have no problems with my shape, there's no doubt that it's a different shape from the typical model. What looks great on them may look terrible on me. There's nothing for it but to wait until I can actually walk into a dress shop, which I refuse to do until I'm back in Pennsylvania. After all, the best part of choosing a wedding dress is trying them all on with your loved ones around to ooh and aah. And I am not risking missing out on that by setting foot into a shop in the UK and finding one that I have to have.

So for now it's back to rapid-fire emails and lists. At least when I finally do make it to the dress shop I'll be able to impress everyone with my knowledge of waistlines. And in the meantime I do know that cathedral trains and winter weather do not mix.

"Grammar makes a world of difference..."

I never thought I'd spend so much time crying when I got engaged. Especially considering the fact that I knew I was getting engaged. You know, eventually. But engaged to this person was the point. Yet there I was, sitting in my intended's lap, out on the patio in the middle of the night, sobbing and laughing uncontrollably.

We'd had this conversation many times before, with one crucial difference. The question had always been "Would you marry me," (implicating 'if I asked') as opposed to "Will you marry me." But contrary to what I thought, grammar did make a world of difference, and I became a tearfully happy fiancee.

It was quite a surreal experience as I'd just flown in to Birmingham, England from my home of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania in the US. In fact, I think I'll lay some of the blame for my unsteady character that night on jetlag. And alcohol. Not that I don't recognize the fact that delirious happiness was probably most of the cause. We were staying with friends of His that I'd just met that afternoon, and a few others of His childhood friends had swung in for a visit. I accepted the congratulatory hugs and He accepted congratulatory ribbings. We had a marvelous celebration involving quite a bit more alcohol, lots of toasts, and some delicious take-out curries.

The next morning was a bit less surreal. It began with Him saying "We have to call your parents." This was a tricky one, as they'd never met Him in person, though they had been through many telephone and web camera conversations. And they were aware that this occasion would be arriving in the future. Would, not will. Naturally, we put it off and went to the Birmingham Jewelry Quarter first.

Ring shopping was just as much fun as I would have imagined. With the aid of a lovely shopkeeper I absolutely destroyed all of the shop's display windows before I chose the third ring I'd tried on and the first I'd liked. The entire process took about two hours, with my faithful fiance standing by. It probably could have been much shorter, but it wasn't until thirty minutes into debating between the ring I liked in yellow gold or platinum (silver, as my oft-chastised fiance called it) that I thought to see which color would also look good on His finger. Ten seconds later, platinum it was. We left the shop with the instructions to stop back in an hour to pick up the fitted, completed ring. It was time to phone my parents.

He took a walk down the busy street, phone to ear, while I shifted from foot to foot on the pavement and blessed the rain that made it less obvious that I had tears in my eyes. And I waited. And waited. What seemed like hours later but was in reality about ten minutes He came strolling back all smiles. He was celebrating with my mom and dad, and passed the phone to me to join in on my parents' blessings. The Cloud of Euphoria prevents me from accurately recollecting everything my parents said while I was once more laughing and crying (this time on a busy street) but I do remember my mom telling me that she and my dad were sitting on the couch hugging and, surprise, laughing and crying. I hung up with the promise to send pictures as soon as I had my ring. Incidentally, when we picked it up I laughed and cried some more while the shopkeeper continually commented that she'd never seen anyone look so happy.

That night at a barbecue that had been arranged for Him and his friends, whom he hadn't seen in the several years he'd been abroad, I was introduced as his fiancee. The festivities were large, joyous and loving, and thanks to the marvel that is Skype my family were able to join in on a bit.

I was engaged. I was in love. Life just sparkled.