So I think we’ve found a minister at long last.

Ed’s been in charge of finding someone to marry us, so we sat down and came up with a list of what we wanted. First of all, we needed someone who would marry a couple where one partner is divorced. Since we were both brought up Catholic, that pretty much ruled out our families’ religion, which disappoints Ed’s mom to no end.

But we did decide to look for a minister. Armed with that knowledge, Ed hit the Internet.

Anyway, he hooked up with Connie, who said she’d be happy to marry us.

Ed set up the meeting, and we drove to Maine to meet with Connie in a coffee shop. We walked in and notices a blond woman with large glasses, dressed in a sweater in a long skirt, reading quietly in the corner. Connie.

We began making our way across the coffee shop, and I accidentally bumped into a woman. Muttering, “Excuse me,” I took in her frosted blond hair, low-cut tank top and frosted blue eye shadow.

She smiled and extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Connie. You must be Donna and Ed. Why don’t we sit down and discuss your wedding.”

I tried not to stare. I really did. But I was the seat next to her, and I could see right down her tank top. I’ve never been good at not staring. I began to check out the sun damage on her chest while she discussed wedding option.

When I could finally tear myself away, I asked her what faith she was a minister of. She smiled brightly, “I’m not a minister. I’m a justice of the peace.”

My eyes slid over to Ed. We had specifically discussed not being married by a justice of the peace. Hey, when you’re getting married, you need all the God you can get.

He looked innocently back at me. “Is that a problem for you?” he asked.

Hell yeah! My eyes traveled back to Connie’s breasts. She was sitting right there, and I didn’t want to hurt her feelings . . .

“No. It’s fine.” I smiled brightly.

I never smile brightly. I looked like I had a muscle spasm in my face.

The rest of the conversation passed in a blur. We got out to the car and I looked at Ed.

“I though we agreed on a minister.”

“It’s not a deal-breaker for me,” he said casually. “Is it a deal-breaker for you?”

“Ummm . . . yeah, kinda.” I said piteously, “I thought we agreed on a minister. Did something change?”

I found out what changed. Ed thought Connie was a minister when he booked her. Finding out she was a justice of the peace, he decided the course of least resistance was to just be happy with a justice of the peace.

I decided the course of least resistance – my resistance – was to have Ed start over again. It is, after all, the person who will marry us. He chose an inter-faith minister. I’m not really sure what that is, but based on her Web site, it seems as though she combines all faiths for a meaningful wedding.

I like the idea of bringing the best of all faiths into one spiritual, romantic ceremony that will bless our marriage.