When I was a Judy Blume loving, piano playing, art class excelling seven-year old, my mother roused me at 4:00am. I fumbled for my glasses and padded downstairs to our small color television, where I sat-immobile and stunned-for the next 5 hours. It was 1981 and Princess Diana got married. It was profound. Indelible. And joyous.
In honor of today's newlyweds, I baked.
What's more British than a scone?
I started putting these together filled with a kicky happiness, but my mind kept turning to Princess Diana and my throat began to feel heavy. Her loss feels profound and indelible too.
Luckily, I had someone to cheer me up. "I CAN NO HAZ A SCOON?"