Yesterday, a friend of Hubs called and invited Hubs to pull an all-nighter driving to, attending, and driving home from a Toad the Wet Sproket concert. It was completely last-minute notice, it was a work-night, we shouldn't really afford the ticket, and Hubs is, you know, not a college student. He's a real-live adult with kids and responsibilities and a department to supervise. I told him he absolutely must go.
I wanted him to go because if he, a 30 year-old man with three kids and a nine-to-five job could hop in a car and drive 2 and a half hours to attend a rock concert, there's still hope for surprises in our world.
I don't know about you, but I feel like I can see the next 30 years unspooling in front of me pretty predictably. I know right where things are going, and they're not bad, they're just . . . predictable. It's nice to know that it's still possible to wake up in the morning and have that day turn out differently than we thought it would in big and positive way. Not a my-child-got-abducted-way or a I-thought-we'd-have-tacos-but-instead-we-had-spaghetti way, but a real, surprising, still-making-fond-memories-for-when-we're-old-way.
So rock on, baby! Rock on!