Wedding numero 2

Becky's married, and I cried.

And that speech I was a bit worried about? I did just fine.

I didn't write it down, and standing out in the hallway before they announced the (rather large) wedding party, I whispered to the other speakers if they'd put a lot of thought into it. "Nope," times three.

Score!, I thought.

I volunteered to go first, so I wouldn't throw up all over myself before the Putnam County wedding food.

And in the back of my mind, I kept thinking "Everyone here -- Mom, Bernie, Derrick, Marianne, AJ, Jason, Jody, Siefker ... All of them ... I can't mess up. I've GOT to be funny. The guys have not seen me in three years ... God, my hair. Is my hair OK?? Is my ex here? God. God. God."

I swallowed, stood up, and told the story about Becky and I and our weird fascination with the NBC weatherman in Toledo -- Blizzard Bill Spencer.

It was unexpected, unexplainable, and something we got made fun of for, because ... let's admit. He's not a good looking or particulary young, strapping man.

But Brian? I came home to our apartment one day to find he'd gotten me Bill's autograph at a Mud Hens game. He asked. The weatherman. For his autograph. In public. For laughs.

"I was like, 'Brian? That guy? He gets it.'" And they laughed. And I toasted the happy couple -- "lots of love and babies," and they laughed. And my nerves were gone.

I freakin' love weddings.

Oh, and about that ex? He was there. And because Dave was there and already knows this, I can say ... It was weird. Living eight hours away means not having to see the guy you dated for four years, dumped one night and then haven't seen for three years. Weird.

But what's more strange is seeing the friends we had in common -- AJ, Jody, Jason, Aaron -- and remembering how we hung out every weekend years ago. And now, half of them didn't know I lived in Wisconsin.

"Ooooh! I live in Oooooosh-kosh," Aaron said, imitating my voice for kicks. "Oooosh-kosh."

Same old jerk. Ah, Ohio.

(Photos: By Dave, their esteemed wedding photographer.)