It was an exceedingly explosive night. The skies were lit up like a prairie fire on amphetamine.
My husband and two brothers always make a special trip to stock up on enough explosives to turn our backyard into an inferno.
It just so happens that this year, we were a bit distracted, and the whole holiday came around with no shrapnel or smoke to be found near our house (well, I take that back, my husband did dig out a few smaller fireworks to make a show for the kids, but nothing like the usual grandeur).
And with that, I have a few confessions to make.
First, since we didn't have our own fireworks display this year, I think it's safe to assume that these pictures weren't from our house. If that's what you're thinking, then you're right. These photos were taken on a trip to Chicago over Memorial Day... thus the worn out looks on our faces, from walking around all day, and the freezing cold we were experiencing that evening on Navy Pier.
Second, I haven't taken a photo in two days, and before that it had been two days, and before that.... I could go on. Yes, it seems like I had been distracted by the consistent nausea I faced this past week and a half, and I didn't think a photo of our porcelain seat sounded very inspiring. Thankfully, it looks like I may be coming out of that slum and facing new signs of life.
Smiling from outside the bathroom,