Apr 29, 2011

OK, so I watched the wedding...

At least I have the guts to admit it.  Turns out there is some "girly-girl" left in here after all.  But I didn't plan it .  It just happened.

I, who normally roll my eyes at all things wedding. 

I, who didn't even plan my own and is particularly proud of the one that I only spent $125 on.

I, who didn't even have a back up for my outside wedding, we'd just get married at the Elk's, where we were having the reception anyway!  Screw it! (My in-laws-to-be thought I was nuts.  They weren't wrong, but none of this has anything to do with weddings)

I, who scorned everyone who said anything about all this hoopla, woke up this morning and literally could not find anything else on any station that is supposed to carry news. 

At 5:30 a.m. I went to every news station I have and each and every time was met with the same scene.  Which did not include the happy couple most of the time and featured a lot of music that I am sure was beautiful if you were there, but frankly left a lot to be desired if you were in America and just wanted to know whether or not it was going to rain, or if we might have a tornado.

Anyhoo, at some point it did show the happy couple.  They looked stunning.  I had to wait for her to stand up before I loved the dress, but I thought it was beautiful. 

With Di's dress, I did not at the time, and to this day I still believe I have not met anyone else who would pick that dress.  But maybe this was the point.  Maybe she planned it that way.  If so, it worked.  Up to this point, I had a very bad feeling about this thing ever since he gave her the ring that Diana was given.  Why Diana did not drop that bit of bad luck like the old lady did with the "heart of the ocean" in The Titanic is beyond me.  (Oh!  Charles, I don't know what happened!  It just slipped off.  I must have lost weight!) 
I didn't care for it the first time, and that was before it had all the ugliness associated with it.  Of course, Now Diana was in my mind, and I remembered how right after we finally made it home from having the twins, I remember every single detail of her death.  Because I was up.  It was the only thing on the news, and would be for days.  My first thought was "Oh, those poor boys".  Then I remembered how Charles actually stood up for her in death, assuring that she would have a royal funeral and walked with those boys into that same church.  Here came the tears, and even worse, the realization that I had watched this man since he was born.  Really, I had.  Whether I wanted to or not.

By now I was hooked, and THEN I think it was Joan Lunden who told a story about a common woman who yelled to William that "his mum would be SO proud of him" and how he looked at her and got emotional, and by that time I had to go dig a new box of Kleenex out of the linen closet.  By the time I made it back, it was more of the crappy (no offense) music and I had time to wonder why on earth they would drag trees inside the church.  The church, it should go without saying, is absolutely phenomenal.

The camera's panned the audience. 
There is Camilla.  Ugh.  How she ever had the nerve to show her face in public again is beyond me.  Some people just have no pride.  They could be the lucky ones, for all I would know about that.  I have too much.  It's a burden I happily bear.
The Queen has most excellent taste in clothes.  Choosing the usual suit and hat, but today in a pale yellow.
Everywhere there are strange and mesmerizing hats. 

By the time we needed to leave the house, we  I didn't want to leave because they hadn't come out on the balcony and kissed yet, and of course I remember the Charles and Di AND Andrew and Sarah (oh, has it not been painful to watch that train wreck?) and I felt I somehow owed it to history to witness this.  As if it won't be replayed at every opportunity for the next 40 years.  This made perfect sense at the time, which is how I now know I was under the spell.  (Somewhere studio executives were opening champagne and celebrating their ratings.)

This is how they get you suckered in.  To bring myself out of it, we went and got donuts before school and work and they had these sugar cookie sandwiches with butter cream icing, and we all had one in honor of the happy couple.  I didn't mention this to anyone else, but that is what we did.  Don't tell the boys.

At the end of the day (I think that's an English expression, Fergie used to say it a lot at any rate, old chap!) I wish them all the best.  I hope they are very happy and have as many children of whatever sex as they want.  I hope they put that ring in the safe or vault or somewhere where it will finally rest in peace (anything that big is just tacky. I don't care if it's the Hope Diamond, which, incidentally, has not brought a lot of happiness to anyone either...), and I hope that they will above all lead a quiet, private life together. 

I will probably never bother you with such shallow drivel again.



  1. Man, I would love to have an event to go to where I could wear a hat. Really. :-)



These are my thoughts, which sometimes drive me crazy and sometimes keep me sane, but are always entertaining. I call this Lace Your Days With Hope because I can't find enough hope to make an entire quilt out of. Stay tuned, and add your own!