Of swishy skirts and balls...

I just woke up from the most amazing dream....

I was at a ball. Yep. Just like in Cinderella. (In fact, the ballroom looked suspiciously like Disney's version.)

The best part was that all the women--including me--had colorful skirts that moved with them as they danced. My partner spun me around and I laughed and laughed as the skirt swished in time to the music.

I actually do own a swishy skirt. And sometimes--when I can't help myself--I spin around just so it will twirl, much like I did when I was five years old.

What is it about women that balls and swishy skirts sit so comfortably in our hearts? Maybe we never really get over the fairy tales we heard when we were children. Maybe something inside us knows there is something in that fantasy that is true. And that even if glass slippers are impractical they are beautiful. And that on days when we are cleaning fireplaces and doing laundry (or the corporate equivalent thereof), there is hope that our fairy godmother might come and wave her magic wand and give us a beautiful, magical night.