OH MY GOD IT'S A SHOW. WITH HORSES.

The drive downtown to see Lewis Black was not interesting just because of the crappy traffic and the rain. There was also another element in the madness. We saw something. Something big. Something difficult to pass over. And I'm pretty sure both my husband and I wish it had been a crime. Or our own parents gettin' it on. Clowns? Scary, scary clowns. Really, seeing anything else probably would have been preferred.

What we did see was a giant black billboard with one word on it that neither of us had ever heard of. There was also a quote. From Larry King of all people, "The greatest show I've ever seen."

Now, Larry King's what, a million? I'm pretty sure he's seen every show. Ever. Wasn't he at the rapture and the Super Bowl?

Lastly, there was a profile picture of the head and neck of a stunning white horse.

That was it. Entire composition of billboard.

To which I immediately said to the husband, "What is that? Is that some kind of horse show?"

And then I drop it. I'm not crazy. Hardy har har. I'm cool. I'm collected. I'm a good wife.

...

Two miles later: the same billboard.

...

"What is that? Is it a show WITH HORSES? Honey? Honey?"

My husband assures me he has no idea what the billboards mean.

A couple more miles: there it is again.

"Is it like Cirque De Soleil," I ask, which is a show we've never seen and have never had much desire to see.

It is important to note that I have been trying not to make the husband take me to things that I know he won't enjoy. As each year together passes, and we're going on 8 years now, I try to take this more and more to heart. Because this is a man who would sit through just about anything for my happiness. (I'm looking at you, Twilight movies. At least I know to be ashamed for liking you. And for knowing that if my husband did enjoy you, I would rethink all my feelings for him.)

My point is that me and the hubby, we're older. I don't need to see everything. The hubby missed the years when I would have wanted to go to lots of concerts, experimental theater, art openings. When not only would I want to see a local band, I'd know all the area's band names and have them arranged in my mind by my affection for them. I'd stalk them in Schnucks and talk to them about produce.

I'm not totally recovered. Sometimes I'll see something and have a youth relapse. I'll read something like "Florence and the Machine are coming here!" and my heart quickens and my brain goes all Liz Lemon, "I want to go to there." Then, I pause and consider how the hubby would hate every minute of that and I get out my IPOD and my pulse calms and I am content.

Honestly, to be straight with myself, I know that having to get dressed and go to a venue and deal with people and see live music would not be, in reality, my favorite thing anymore anyway. I am no longer Florence's demographic and I do not need to be in a very emo mosh pit with those who are. I don't even like living somewhere with neighbors. People. Too close to me. Thank you no.

And Florence would not be my friend in real life no matter what my imaginary world may be showing me in grainy video in my mind. We're not going to have instant and immediate long conversations where we totally get each other and share inside jokes that we somehow have despite being total strangers. She won't singsong her side of the conversation with me either. In real life, I bet she's so weird that she makes me look normal, and I think putting the two of us together in a room would make some sort of awkward explosion (of more awkward) and then we'd both slit our wrists just to escape the situation.

Anywho, cut to another mile down the road. One word. Larry King quote. Beautiful horse.

"IS THIS A SHOW? WITH HORSES? I WANT TO SEE A SHOW WITH HORSES! WHAT IS IT, HONEY?"

At this point, if you can't tell, I have started to lose my sh*t. The little girl that still lives inside me somewhere, who loved horses, who even had a horse at one point, who read stories about horses, who watched The Black Stallion over and over again on disc (yes, you read disc correctly there) starts to wake from her slumber deep in the recesses of whoever it is I am now.

So we go to Lewis Black and I smile at my husband and act cool and he's forgotten all about it and I try to push little psycho Happy-Wife-As-A-Child back down and shut her the f*ck up. Because she is all kinds of nuts in my head now. I try not to think about what the hell that billboard was about. A show? With horses? Ha! No! Surely not!

This is me when I was a kid. With Lightning, my horse.

Miss ya, Buddy.

AND HE KINDA LOOKS LIKE THE HORSE ON THE BILLBOARD.
WE'RE SO F*CKED.

When I think about happiness and my childhood, I think about when I was riding that horse. I particularly remember us running through alfalfa fields in rural South Dakota. Complete and total freedom, complete and total peace, complete and total happiness. If I've ever had a perfect moment, that was when it happened.

We see Lewis Black. We come home, go to sleep. The hubby gets up early on Saturday to watch soccer. I get up late, groggily start my morning routine. Sip my coffee, check my email.

I try to stop myself, but I can't. I type in word I hadn't heard before.

Cavalia.

Let out little noises.

Run downstairs, interrupt soccer.

"IT'S A SHOW WITH HORSES A HORSE SHOW CIRQUE DE SOLEIL WITH HORSES HORSES HORSES FREE HORSES RUNNING AROUND FREE NO REINS JUST RUNNING AROUND THE INTERNET SAYS IT'S LIKE WATCHING A POEM IT'S A SHOW WITH HORSES HORSES HORSES-"

And even though he's going to hate every second of it, by noon, we had tickets to Cavalia. The first set of seating that you can have without getting to meet the actual horses. Because even though I'm sure I'd like that, maybe the hubby will hate the show a little less knowing he doesn't have to meet the horses.

And it's in the afternoon. Perfect for us elderly folk.

I'm a little worried I might openly sob at this show and I don't know why and I'm pretty sure I need therapy. And Xanax. I mean, there is a reason we didn't see the movie War Horse.

And the only thing the adult in me says about it is, "What exactly does a poem look like? This could really go either way." I try not to focus on how this will probably be the worst thing I've ever sat through or best thing I've ever seen. Sweet Jesus, what have I gotten us into?