Time Warp. (Where did she go? I want her back!)

My memory receives an electrical charge at the oddest times.  Today I heard a commercial on the radio about a huge dinosaur exhibit at The Singletary Center for the Arts on UK campus.  The last of it actually caught my attention, a slide show by the renown dinosaur artist from Kentucky (!!!!!) while the Lexington orchestra accompanies.  I immediately wanted to go and mentally crossed my fingers and held my breath waiting for the date!  BINGO!  This Sunday.  Have no plans.

Then I deflated.  Who would want to go with me to an event that most certainly was geared towards children?  Not Joe and his nine year old daughter, B.  That is just not their thing.

I become melancholy for the daughter I use to have.  That little bright eyed eight year old Bridget who had the nerve to grow up and leave me!!!!

Bridget my sidekick for all those years.  I could fill up 1,000 areas of FTP space just telling about what a great kid she was and how accommodating to her slightly eccentric Momma.

She went everywhere with me.  I tried not to expose her to things that were a little too mature or adult oriented for her little mind.  But every so often I would slip up, but I don't think she is the any worse off for it.  For instance, I hauled her to a Rolling Stone concert in Louisville....we sat among a group of Hells Angels type.  They fell in love with "the Kid" and made sure she had a good view.

And when I took her to see Amadaus...when would that have been, 1984?.....the movie may have been above her head, but she cried when "Wolfie" died and has loved classical music ever since.

If I were to come rushing home and excitedly shout out, "Guess what?!!!!!! Dinosaurs with Wolfie music!!!! They are going to be at the UK campus!"  She would have jumped up and down with mirth and anticipation along with me.

Oh I want to go!!!!! Maybe Bridget will come down from Louisville and go with me. 

Damn I miss that child being a kid with me!

Angel on the Hill

I sometimes amaze myself.  Saturday morning I got up and headed to Louisville with Joe.  We both were going to run in the Papa John 10 Miler, the last leg of the Louisville Triple Crown of Running. 

I have not practiced at all.  The last time I ran was the 10K race of two weeks prior.  That one was hard to finish, but with blind determination I did it.  10 miles is quite different from 10K.  Added to that, the middle five miles are up and down the very steep and sharply graded hills of Iroquois Park.  I was having a major pity party going on inside my head.  I had to prove to Joe I could do it, since he has been chastising me for weeks now about my finding every excuse possible for not running!

The gun goes off and 5000 crazy people take off running for the Iroquois Park hill of torture.  I did pretty good the first three or so miles.  Then I slowed down to a run/walk mode going up the "mountain." 

At mile FIVE I noticed a police officer talking to a child.  Being the natural mother (and incredibly nosy person) I am I jogged over to the kid and asked if he was okay.

He had left his runners number and chip in the hotel room and the police officer was questioning him about it. 

His name was Jonathan, he was 12 years old and is an absolute charmer.  He talked non stop to me the last five miles.  I heard the entire plot of his favorite two scary movies, the ins and outs of his favorite video games.  I heard all about his first date at the movies with his girlfriend.  I heard about his troubles with studying and having his Play Station taken away.  He told me all about his younger sister and how he baby-sits her.  I heard about his latest crash and burn while skating.  The last miles went by so easily with him chatting away.  An angel sent to help me through the pain.

Maybe I helped Jonathan finish the race too.  He had not trained either. He was a tough little bird.  We entered the Papa John's stadium together.  His Mom was waiting for him in the stands.  I was so proud of him, I can only imagine how she felt. 

He was something else.  I'll remember him for a long time.

A Horse is a Horse, of course of course, and No One Can Talk to a Horse, Of course

I wish I had a great story to tell you all about the horse, Dash of Class.  Actually its kind of a story.  I went out to Keeneland, which is the very prestigious race track in Lexington that only has a meet for 21 days in the spring, and then 21 days in the fall.  The the "tour" moves on to Churchill Downs for months.  I went over there Thursday morning (during the morning work outs) to take pictures with my Canon 35 mm to make certain it is working properly before going to Ireland.  I see this beautiful horse, black and sleek and fast. As I was leaving the track the horse was being led back to the stable.  We chatted, the trainer the jockey and I not the horse, though in retrospect I should have asked the horse.  The trainer told me this was the horse that was going to win his maiden race tomorrow.

So, I get excited.  I think I have an exclusive tip. 

Friday was a beautiful day, and also Good Friday.  Everyone wanted to go to Keeneland that day!  I only wanted to get there for the Third Race.  And I did. 

I told Joe that I wanted to bet $50 on Dash of Class, but if I did the horse would lose.  If I bet $20, the horse would win.  Either way, I would be kicking myself.

Thank God I went with the $20.  The dang horse finished next to last.  I'm going to keep an eye on that horse though. He is a Two year old, this was his first race.  He is beautiful and I fell in love with him.

He went off at 23 to 1 odds. If he had won, wouldn't that have made a much better story.

I'm fixed

blog blog blog.  Can not delete this entry.  Anyway, I'm able to save my entries again.  Yay Rah!!!

Put the Pitchfork Down and Back Away, NOW!!

I must be a menace.  See my handy work above.  The pail did nothing to deserve that demise! That is how it went all weekend. The full moon must have been at work doing a job on me.  

All I wanted to do was to clean up the front yard.  To get rid of all the leaves that had accumulated over the winter months and to cut down the errant vines that had crept up the side of the house.  I wanted to pull all the weeds and dandelions that had taken root.  I was doing such a great job and the yard was looking so fine that I became carried away.  I decided to take on too much and stay at it too long.  

First, I found a box of daffodils I had not planted in the fall.  They were beginning to sprout and I felt if I put them in the ground, they may have half a chance.  I got out my trusty pitch fork, which had not seen the light of day since last spring, and happily began to till up the side flower beds.  When I finished the second bed, I tossed the pitch fork behind me without looking.  And when I turned I saw it had landed pretty darn close to the unfurled hose...I let out a sigh of relief that it was straddled over the uncoiled green rubber and quickly removed it. To my horror I saw I  had speared the hose.  Damn!  As I yanked out the pitch fork the inevitable spurt of water gushed out.

I ran into the house to doctor it up before Joe got home.  Duct tape, God's answer to all quick fixes. Unfortunately I had decided to operate right there in the drive way. Guess who pulls up right in the middle of the surgery?  Yup.  And I was feeling so smug. I had not yet thought how I was going to explain the silver bandage.  

After planting the daffodils I was still full of Spring cleaning energy and decided to tackle my car.  It had not had a bath in weeks.  Once I had finished the outside of the car all that was left was to vacuum the inside.  I had the shop vac on the front porch.  I tried to stretch it to the car, but it lacked about seven feet.  No problem!  I would move my car closer to the porch.  

I threw it in reverse and immediately ran over the pail.  "What the hell was that?".  When I got out to investigate, there was nothing I could do but hide it in my car and replace it.  Hopefully  before Joe begins to look for it.   

I got the car vacuumed and it looks beautiful!  I think I could seek work at a detail shop if I had to.  Somehow I managed to yank the hose out of the shop vac body and when I got it back in....well, I'm not sure if it is working properly anymore.  I hid the shop vac in the garage.  I'll just say it was working fine when I last used it.

 A full moon.  Yes, that is what it was.  A full moon working its mojo on me.    

Clash of the Titans

While watching the games last night I must admit I had an evil satisfaction in seeing Duke go down at the hands of Connecticut.  I am for whoever is playing against Duke.  I despise them.  I loath them.   There have been many great games between UK and Duke. The most celebrated and remembered?  Regional Final, 1992. 

I was dating Steve and we decided to go the The World Famous Two Keys Tavern to watch the game.  A week prior to that, we had gone to the Metallica concert where Steve, a normally mild mannered God Fearing Christian, was corrupted from the influence of a heavy metal band. (your mother was right)!  If you need the full explanation of what is to follow, read my entry for Feb 9th. 

Two Keys was packed.  Another regional final was being played down the street at Rupp Arena.  Many of the fans of the teams that played the first game were also packed into Two Keys. We were wall to wall, shoulder to shoulder. Steve is not a drinker, but the beer was flowing that evening.  Pitcher after pitcher arrived and was consumed by our new best friends.  I need not describe the game, as it has earned itself accolades as the greatest college basketball game ever played.  That evening, in the tavern on the fringe of the UK campus, you felt it, you knew it.  The roar of the crowd was deafening.  Everyone on their feet cheering and screaming.  Beer mugs held high sloshing beer over the jubilant crowd.

 The next thing I knew, UK had pulled ahead and it looked as if they were going to win the game!  Steve climbed up on a table, and began to chant, "F*** you Duke, F***you Duke", shaking his beer mug at the tv. 

 Suddenly, everyone in the whole Two Keys Tavern began to chant with him , "F***YOU DUKE F***YOU DUKE F***YOUDUKE" 

Then THE shot.  Silence.  Dead silence as people realized what had happened.  Steve was helped down from the table.  People were stunned. Some  actually began to cry in disbelief and horror. 

I took Steve home.  I really had corrupted that man.    

Mother Nature's April Fool

There was sunshine today!  The wind was blowing something fierce, but I did not allow that to deter me from my quest. I am ready for spring.  Mother Nature does not want to play along with me.  It was relatively cold today with a wind that cut right through you.

I went to one of my favorite places, Fayette Seed, and gave myself a nice reprieve from the weather. I bought a few plants to put into the ground Saturday, when it will be a balmy 50+ degrees.  Yea Rah!  Early tomatoes, onions, broccoli which is something new for me to grow.  I know I will have to nurse them during April but I am willing. 

 The rule of thumb is to plant after Derby Day, which is the first Saturday in May. The wisdom behind this is that the last frost should be over.

 I can't wait any longer.