Joe took me to the circus Wednesday night. There is no possible way to step out from the giant blue and yellow striped big top tent of Cirque du Soleil without the smile of a child.
When Joe gets agitated, whether in a crowd or in conversation, his eyebrows travel northward, sometimes almost reaching his hairline.
The little pony-tailed girl sitting in front of us sucked her thumb, her attention never wavering from the stage.
We ordered two hot dogs and two small drinks at intermission. It cost almost thirty dollars. Contortionists must be very expensive.
Some of the most breathtaking parts of the show were the smallest ones having nothing to do with flying through the air or juggling.
The seats were so smushed together that Joe and I overlapped.
When we went to sit down in our excellent fourth row seats Joe had purchased, I made an off-handed comment to the black woman sitting next to me along the lines of, “They really force us to cuddle up here.” Her husband scowled at me.
I wish all time would fly by as quickly as it did at the circus.