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Diana and Kerri mug for the photobooth camera at the Bethesda bridal expo.

Every now and then on my morning commute, I hear those advertisements on the radio about the DC Bridal Showcase, and for some reason it’s that one with the annoying “Come to the bridal showcase!” chorus that get stuck in my head for at least an hour after hearing it. It doesn’t matter how many times I listen to other songs—that one woman’s voice demanding I go to the bridal showcase always stays put. So when I got engaged, I finally gave in to that nagging little jingle and bought my tickets.

I grabbed my mom and some girlfriends and headed to the Bethesda Bridal Expo. When I pictured a bridal expo in my head, it looked like some magical land full of fun ideas, free samples, and a year’s supply of estrogen. However, as soon as I opened the door and saw row after row of vendors hawking their wares, I started to feel overwhelmed.

A man at the entrance gave me a big “bride” button to wear to distinguish me from my posse. Each of us was handed a subscription to Modern Bride and a plastic bag to fill with brochures and business cards. We were then given a bunch of perforated tickets, the kind you’d use for rides at a carnival, and were told to use them at vendor booths to enter a raffle to win free loot.

Mmm . . . cake. It’s literally the sweetest part of a wedding celebration. The cake is a decoration, a ritual, and a dessert all in one sugary package. Shortly after our engagement last summer, the friends who introduced Randy and me threw us a party complete with a three-tiered congratulatory cake. It was the perfect opportunity to practice the wedding tradition of feeding each other the first bite of cake. As Randy aimed his fork for my mouth, his face looking just a little too happy, I gave him the look that brides have been giving grooms for decades, the one that says, “Don’t you dare smash that cake in my face.” Luckily for him, the cake ended up where it belonged, and the bite I fed him was equally well aimed. Let’s hope the same will be true on our wedding day.

Which brings me to the search for our wedding cake. I have a huge sweet tooth, so I knew the cake tasting would be my favorite part of wedding planning. As I did with most of my wedding research, I started by asking friends for recommendations. The unanimous suggestion was Margie, a baker who runs her company, Artistic Cake Creations, out of her home in West Virginia. Margie is famous among Washington brides because her cakes actually taste as good as they look. Aside from the quality of her baked goods, Margie’s popularity may be explained by her incredibly reasonable prices. In this area, wedding cakes can cost anywhere from $2 to $8 per slice, which is a substantial investment when you’re attempting to feed 200 people. Margie’s cakes are more in the $1.50-per-slice range, depending on the type of frosting and the amount of detail required. She does only one cake per weekend, though, so I had to move quickly. Even though my wedding is in October, I got in touch with Margie and set up a tasting date in January.

Ducky and Katie after Katie's successful toast.

For a maid of honor or a best man, one of the most terrifying things about the wedding day is giving the toast.

It sounds a little petty and selfish, but I know other maids of honor and best men would agree. The toast is the only time all the guests look at you as much as at the beautiful couple, and therefore it offers the best opportunity for screwing up. Think about it: The wedding toast is maybe one of the only three times in life that you ever really gush about how great someone is and about how much that person means to you (the other two times being eulogies and yearbook signings—both uncomfortable).

If you’ve got a crazy, stressful wedding day ahead, small stuff like this won’t matter. But I didn’t have to worry about Ducky’s groom running off (despite what he wanted me to believe with the 10 AM gag phone call: “Hey Katie, I’m on a bus to Guatemala right now. What are you up to?”) or about Ducky losing it, either (I have a picture of her calmly helping her mom get ready). So I was free to focus on not tripping—literally, down the aisle, or figuratively, during my toast.