Wedding Battle Scars

• Two skinned and bruised knees, obtained after slipping on my wrap while polka-ing with Mom to the Beer Barrel Polka. However, after said fall, I quickly regained my composure and continued to have a barrel of fun. (What means this "Zing! Boom! Ta-ra-rel!" anyway?)
• A persistent layer of permafrost hairspray and maybe a bobby pin embedded in my brain (end of night bobby pin count: 20).
• A newfound case of blog self-consciousness after having met (and electric slided) with at least half of my blog readership, one of whom became the second to demonstrate to me that among men over 60, Crocs are all the rage. I'm standing by my own opinion that they look ridiculous, however. (No offense to CBB or LAL)
  
• A wracking guilt after having forgotten to sign the wedding certificate at the reception. In my defense, I can't imagine I'm the only one out of the 200 guests to have forgotten this, and I did remember to contribute to the memory box, but this is what happens when there's an open bar and "Shake Your Body (Down to the Ground)" to which to dance.
• Orange toenails.
• An enlarged ego, after killing with my reception toast. I also do bar mitzvahs and tailgate parties.
• An undoubtedly skewed perception that early October weekends in Madison are always 70 degrees and involve parking cars for the home football game, a fabulous wedding, brunch at Mickey's Dairy Bar and Marigold, lunch at Paisan's, excellent views of the sparkling waters of Lake Mendota, dinner at Tutto Pasta, drinks at Paul's Club, a harvest moon floating above the Capitol, the State Street Gallery Crawl, beers on the Terrace, trading zingers with high school pals, playing with Legos, and doing the chicken dance in a fancy dress. Same time next year, everyone?