I loved Diana. I wanted to be her. Even down to her hairstyle. That year in Seventeen magazine there was a how-to on her hairstyle that you could cut out and hand over to your hairdresser. I did it and looked awful. Did my hairdresser know better? Of course. I can still picture her telling me that it wasn't going to work on my curly, thick hair. But I insisted. Thankfully, hair grows.
Today when I have a TV and Internet, I didn't set my alarm or attend any parties (I heard about this one at the Kansas City Public Library on NPR yesterday) but I did tune in when I finally managed to get out of bed. I missed the ceremony but still got my share of the pomp and circumstance. And my tears were flowing. C'mon. Who doesn't cry at weddings?
The news these days is not good so a fairytale royal wedding is medicine for the soul. An escape, even if it's for an hour. That's what reading does for me, too. Plucks me right out of my life for a while. It's cliche but true. Take me to another world, another life, please.
Thank you Royal Family for giving me the opportunity to escape to England for the second time this week and congratulations Harry and Meghan from across the pond, up the Hudson River over in Castleton.
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