(continued)

Because my maid of honor had no more money than I did, I had borrowed a pale green bridesmaid's dress from another friend. (Les and I each had only one attendant, except for those two cute little candlelighters.)

And today is the 64th anniversary of the day that my mother, while pressing said dress, burned a hole the size of the iron right in front. The same day that a carful of unexpected company arrived from South Dakota. The same day I hemmed my wedding dress. All this two days before the wedding. Yikes.

And I commented in my diary:

The rehearsal went off well. It will probably be a beautiful wedding. I feel so detached and unconcerned. It is as if I were overseeing someone else's wedding – not mine.

I think I must have been in shock. 

More to come…