Derby Day

This was the closest thing I could find to a photo of a horse in my own photo archive. Someday
I will learn how to take photos from anywhere on the Web. Would be interesting if the Derby
were run by elephants.

Since moving to Louisville 16 years ago, I blush to admit that I have not missed a single Derby, though one year I caught it on the radio. My friend S. was talking as cynically as you could imagine about the Derby today, but what was on her TV when I called her back around five pm?

I had a friend who told me she would NEVER EVER come to Louisville and I have tried to figure out if that was because she disapproved of racing horses or because of the chemicals and other unpleasant stuff in the air.

Anyway, now it's time for me to gloat about how I picked the second place finisher, Bluegrass
Cat. My pick for first, Steppenwolfer, came in third. None of which matters of course because I didn't bet. My dad's horse came in twelth.

Everyone in the house is now asleep--feline, canine, and human. It's a time when I can be alone with myself and give myself hell about my uncritical enjoyment of horse racing. Unpleasant as this may sound, I enjoy certain traditions--enjoyed graduating in the bicentennial class from my high school, enjoy Thankgiving and Christmas, and enjoy the Kentucky Derby. That sounds just too pink and fuzzy for words.

We're responsible for more than just our actions--we're responsible for our thoughts and feelings too--many believe. So I can't argue that it's Not My Fault that I watch the Derby on TV every year, that I get excited about it (even if I haven't heard of most of the horses until I see them heading down the track to the starting gate). I can't say: "Well, I moved to Louisville and they crammed this horseracing thing down my throat and told me to swallow--at gunpoint."

My first Derby was also the first time someone forced me to eat venison--it was my dad,
and I don't blame him, but I pray at least once a day that I never have to eat venison again to avoid hurting someone's feelings (see how I play the Victim???).

I can't think of a better way to close anymore than to just say I don't want to keep on typing.

---Harriet

Pegasus Parade

Today is the annual lemming race through our neighborhood to Broadway for the second unignorable pre-Derby event, the first being "Thunder over Louisville," an enormous fireworks display preceded by the afternoon's completely obnoxious Air Show--I believe these delights take place two weeks before Derby; now we're counting down; maybe some of you out-of-towners are aware the Derby itself is always on the first Saturday in May. I am completely clueless about the horses, which is unusual for me--I do know my dad's favorite is Lawyer Ron, and that the overall favorite is Brother Derek.

In other news, i just fished drosophila out of my iced tea. I'm a bit weirded out at myself, as I return to blogging and observe that I followed a political blog entry rapidly with a religious blog entry. There are those who are of the opinion "you should never discuss politics or religion" but that's at parties. This is SO not a party... I mean, I feel less than partyish today, as the day began with the discovery of the door standing open and my tomcat gone and pornography all over my computer, along with viruses. Who was the architect of this situation? not someone who I feel good about right now, though I'm not going to publish his name. And do you know that after I confronted him about it, and he slunk off, he came back five minutes later asking for cigarette money???

I'm sorry if I've offended anyone with my politics or religion, neither of which have been well-handled in my impulsive whalish verbal spoutings--there, that's a mouthful. Now, I've got stop typing.

---Harriet.