The same kid told me that if you look directly at lightning out your window, it will strike you.
I believed that, for a very long time.
(and actually just googled about the caterpillar thing, to be sure.)
Hubs and I had a fancy date, a gala on Saturday in downtown Chicago, at the Hilton, one of the most beautiful ballrooms I've ever been in. People were dressed to the nines and tens, and we ate gourmet salads with whole baby pears and brie.
I can not even try to write about the desserts, for they were too worthy of words or a capture of my iphone. I'm still in awe.
And we danced. We didn't even dance at our own wedding. But we danced this night.
We leave and the buildings stand tall and straighten their shoulders and twinkle their lights at us.
And so we say things like
the sky is so October
and we could totally move here, and the city would be the kids' school campus.
and if we don't, then either way we want them to know the city like my heart does
or once did.
We barely blink at our extravagant meal and digest the frou frou night and we're back home with four sleepy children, baffled at where in the world they came from. I leave my dress crumpled on the floor and grab whatever t-shirt is closest to my bed, and leggings, and I curl onto my pillow and
am exhausted from the life