Do you do Derby?

The Kentucky Derby, that is.  As in, the famous horse race held down the street from my house each year on the first Saturday of May?

Funny thing about the Derby - I've lived in Louisville for what, 25, 26 years?  I've been to the Derby once; two years ago, because my boss gave me tickets to the Grandstands (bleachers).  When I lived away from Kentucky, everyone assumed I went to the Derby every year of my life, because, well, I live RIGHT THERE. Not so much... it just never worked out for me.

I was going to go with my loser of a boyfriend in 1999 - I'd been out of high school a year and had done everything in my power to guarantee that I'd have a successful future by hooking up with a dude who had his own apartment and access to weed and booze and then dropping out of college to make sure I could spend as close to my every waking moment as possible hanging on his every gruff word before moving out of my parents house in the middle of an argument with my momma over what time I got out of bed (4 p.m.).  Anyhow.  We were going to go to Derby that year - my daddy had even given me a $100 bill to cover our admission to the infield.  We drove downtown to discover that parking was a million dollars (that $100 was all we had to spend, and infield admission for the both of us was $80), so we turned around and headed back to the East End.  We talked about going somewhere with his brother and sister-in-law, but something about leaving town didn't feel right.  Sarah (the sister-in-law, still my friend and the best thing that came from my early adult-hood) and I went to the liquor store and got a box of booze - when we got back to the apartment, boyfriend met me outside and told me my momma had called while I was out...her father, my Papaw, had died of a massive heart attack hours before.  I wailed, I screamed, I beat bruises into his chest, begging him to stop lying to me.

Any real excitement I'd ever sorta felt toward Derby before that day was pretty much done after that, until my boss offered us tickets out of the blue a few years back.  I bought a fancycasual outfit and a fancycasual big floppy hat, and I drank half a dozen mint juleps (bourbon, fresh mint, simple syrup, crushed ice; yes, they're awful, but you get a collectible glass with each one!) and a couple of $8 tallboy Bud Lights, spent a couple hundred bucks on bad bets that didn't pay out.  I wore pantyhose under my culottes because it was cool and rainy that morning - by mid-afternoon I was drunk and the sun was out and those pantyhose had to go, so I stood in line for a port-a-pot for half an hour so I could take my hose off.  I wish I could tell you I carried them back outside and disposed of them in a properly marked garbage container, but I dropped them into the bowels of the port-a-pot on top of the contents of everyone else's bowels and called it good.  And then I drank another Mint Julep.  By the time THE race was over, so was I - my new shoes were killing my poor little feets, and I was slipping past the point of fun drunk to tiredIwannagohomeandsleepNOW drunk.  So we walked out of Churchill Downs (if memory serves, I was carrying two tallboys for the road) and hopped a rickshaw bicycle for the 5 block ride back to my office where the car was stashed.  (Sure, it's five blocks.  But parking closer costs like $20 minimum, and this spot was free and behind a locked gate.)  The ride back takes us through a residential area, and everyone was out on their porch or in their backyard, grilling, drinking beer, hanging out and enjoying the party-like atmosphere that'd been taking over our city for weeks and was finally reaching culmination.  I'm pretty sure I waved and whooped and hollered "HAPPY DERBY!" to each and every one of them, raising my tallboy in salute.  When I wasn't staring at the massively heaving muscles in the calves of the rickshaw/bicycle driver, of course.  Then we went to Steve's where he presented us with an entire chicken he'd spent the day smoking in his new wood smoker.  And I took a nap on his cat-puke-stained carpet.  (That carpet's not there anymore and the cat doesn't throw up like that anymore.  Thank God.)  The end.

Wait, no.  I was going to say some other stuff.  Like about the first time I realize the Kentucky Derby was something to which people outside of Kentucky, and even outside of horse racing, paid attention.  I was 14, and in Florida for the National Drill Team Championships (we won first place in Exhibition Squad, thanks for asking).  Our trip was a week long, and happened to end the day after the Derby was run.  Sunday morning's Daytona Beach News-Journal front page featured a full-page picture of the horses crossing the finish-line, with the winner's name emblazoned across the headline.  "They know about the Kentucky Derby down here?" I innocently inquired.  My question was answered with laughter and "Of course!  It's only the biggest horse race in the world!"  Whoa.  Really?  Who knew? 

These days, the track is located smack dab in the middle between my home and my office.  Any doubt I ever held about the size of this event has long since been dispelled - today, two days before the big race, the traffic is jammed and the banner-pullers are flying and the blimp is circling.  I'm not going, obviously.  Jimi and Steve are brewing beer - which they did back in 2008, the year filly Eight Bells crossed the finish line in second place just as she snapped her ankle, resulting in her having to be euthanized right there on the track.  The beer that year was named Eight Bells Glue Brew in her honor, and it was fucking delicious...I should know, Steve still bitches about how I drank 9/10ths of that batch.  I'm hoping this year's version will not be subject to similar circumstances that would lead to such a tragic name.


So, my question to you, friends, is do you know about the Kentucky Derby?  Do you have a party?  Do you watch?  Do you care?  Do you bet on it?  Do you wanna go?  (My upstairs would cost half of what you'd pay for a hotel this week, I promise!)  If you were going to bet, which horse would you pick?

Sunday Somethings

I'm not Catholic, but I went to Mass this morning.  I'm 99% certain today is the first time I've gone to church on Easter Sunday - any church.  Counting that wedding I went to in 2001 and the funeral we went to a few weeks ago, this Mass was the third I've attended in my life.  I expected waving palm fronds and lots of Hosanna singing - like in Jesus Christ Superstar.  It doesn't really go down like that, turns out.  (I've got a sudden urge to pop in that DVD.  Love that movie!)

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Jimi and I had a bit of a cometoJesus this morning as we drove to his brother's house before church.  He's worried about me, folks.  He's concerned that I read too much sad - blogs about infertility, about multiple losses, about children who've died, about cancer patients.  He's worried that I'm not happy, or that my grieving is overwhelming me.  "I'm coming out on the other side of it, baby," I assured him.  "I had a lot to work through, but I'm coming through it."  I guess I don't talk to him much about where I'm at in this process.  I don't talk to him much about where he is, either.  We've sorta been dealing with things on our own, in our own heads. I come here and spill my guts; to say the same words to him out loud would feel like repeating myself.  (Have I mentioned he doesn't read my blog?  No wonder he doesn't know where I'm at.)

He said the thing I've been thinking of but afraid to say - the due date approaches.  May 4th, May 5th - something like that.  "I've thought of it," I told him. "But I don't feel any real significance or connection with the date, honestly.  If we'd heard a heartbeat, if a doctor had given us a date to mark on our calendars, then it would be harder.  Now, it's more like 'Huh.  If things had worked out differently, how different would my world be right now!'"  But of course I've thought about it.

It's been a roller coaster of emotions and hormones for the last several months.  I don't feel the urgency I felt.  I don't feel the confusion or so lost.  I'm not empty; I felt empty there for a while, but I don't feel that anymore.  I don't feel betrayed by fate, or cheated, or punished.  I don't feel like a failure as a woman.  I don't feel like I've failed Jimi.  I know grieving is a process, and I'm glad that the veil is lifting.  I never would've thought I could grieve so hard for someone I never met.

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Brew day ended with an interesting twist yesterday - the cooling system the boys use, a large coil of copper pipe that's immersed into the brew keg full of raw beer and flushed with cold water to cool the boiling liquid, it sprang a leak.  The leak wasn't discovered until they had introduced something like 5 gallons of unfiltered water to their brew.  shitfucksonofabitch.  The BBC brewmaster was on hand, and he suggested an attempted save involving removing three gallons of the tainted brew, bringing the rest to a hard boil for an hour or so to kill off any bacteria, then adding an extra pound or so of honey to keep up flavor and gravity.  I'll let you know in 8 weeks or so if it worked.  (I hope it worked; a batch of beer isn't inexpensive to make.  Beyond the cost, though, they put so much of themselves into this stuff - it's tear-jerking to think of their efforts and hours of work all being for naught.)

Maria generously volunteered to pick up for dinner a selection of delicious yums from her brother's Argentinian restaurant.  I've never been to Palermo Viejo, mostly because I'm a picky eater and new things scare me, but dude.  If you're ever in Louisville, and you're in the mood for some out-of-this-world food, this would be a good place to start - Empanadas in four varieties, all of which were unbelievably tasty, a 10 oz. filet served with a vinegar based spicy sauce that her father makes, some breaded chicken/ham/cheese/tomato dish that almost made me cry, the mashed potatoes, the bread - Oh, it was all so freaking awesome.  I will be visiting the restaurant to sample his other wares, I assure you.  

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Jimi said he's going to send me for a massage this week.  And that was before he discovered the golf-ball-sized knot of tensed up muscle in my shoulder that I woke up with this morning.  Very much looking forward to that.  Also on the list of things to look forward to this week:  folding, stuffing, and stamping my own invoices; doing my own filing; screening my own phone calls.  That's right, friends, I'm once again on the hunt for a new administrative assistant.  If it wouldn't mean an extra 20 hours of work for me each week, I'd say fuck it and petition my boss for a small raise and do the shit myself.  But I don't want to work 55 hours a week.  And I refuse to believe finding someone to fill that job long-term is impossible.

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Is Easter candy on sale today, or do I have to wait until tomorrow?  And why is everything open today?  Even the Book & Music Exchange was open.  I remember way back in 1998, Kat and I tried to find some shit to get into on Easter Sunday and it was like this town was on lockdown.  Even Wal-Mart and Meijer were closed.  I told Jimi, "It's a sign of the times, yo.  We're all a bunch of Godless heathens nowadays."

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I'm leaving the giveaway up for another week.  I really want to send you all of this shit from my house, so you really should go enter.  :)  

And I'm obviously the worst blogger ever.  I've been awarded the Versatile Blogger award four times (4?!) in the last few weeks, and I've not made the time yet to accept or acknowledge any of them.  Ixy (at Illusion), Carlia (at The Stork Drop Zone), LJB (at CrankyMonkeys In London), and Crystal (at Never In One Place) - Ladies, thank you, and I have no excuse other than it feels like life has been really hectic and crazy and I'm way far behind on everything.  (Over 1000 things to read in my Google Reader right now.  1000!!!  Like that'll ever happen.)  Anyhow, I'm sorry for being lame-o.  I'll fix it, promise.   

I think that's all I've got.  Happy Easter, Friends.

Brew Day!

Jimi and Steve are downtown at the BBC for the Annual Brew Day celebration.  Well, I guess it's not really a celebration, per se - it's really a bunch of amateur beer makers getting together in one place to brew up their wares and trade info and maybe learn a few things from the professionals.  It's pretty neat.  Jimi's been gone since 9, but after a week of waking nightly from 2 a.m. to 5 a.m., I decided last night I was going to get some good sleep, so I popped two sleeping pills instead of one and I was out like a light from 11 until Jimi woke me at 7:30 saying he'd slept through the alarm.  I did too, I guess.  I went back to sleep till noon.

I was supposed to be there at noon.  Did I mention that?  It's 12:35.  I don't have any clothes on.  Guess I'm going to be late.

Steve gave me a bonsai tree for my birthday.  I love it so much.  He said if I take care of it, it will still be alive when I die.  That's a goal, huh?  Guess I'm going to have to learn about bonsai and how to take care of them.

Yesterday was SO much better than Thursday.  I knew it would be.  It had to be.  I made it to the weekend.  YAY!

I should go get dressed and get on with my day.  (Though, to be honest, it's dreary and rainy and depressing outside and all I really want to do it try to catch up on my reading and my Sims 3ing and my sitting in my chairing.)

That's all I've got for now.  Except that you should go enter my giveaway.  C'mon.  You know you need more useless crap around your house.  Right?

Random Ramblings

~  I dislike the work that is involved in mowing a half acre yard after ignoring it and pretending someone else will do it for nearly 5 weeks.

          ~ I really like the way it makes my skin glow afterward, though.

          ~ And I really like the way Jimi is super attentive and sweet after I've finished.  I went straight into the shower after mowing, and he came in and washed my back then shampooed and conditioned my hair for me.  Pampering is always welcome, and he's oh so good at it.


~  I'm fixing The Pioneer Woman's Bow-Tie Lasagna for dinner tonight.  (Except I'm using rigatoni instead of bow-tie pasta because I like it better.  And I have it on-hand.)  Cheese, sauce, carbs, garlic - what could be better?

~  The beer has been moved into two smaller carboys for secondary fermentation.  I had a taste.  It is delicious, and it packs a punch.  I will have to be careful in my consumption.

I have to post things like this.  Otherwise, how will my blog ever live up to its name?

Nothing to see here...

Jimi and Steve brewed beer yesterday.  They call it Ernge.  (It helps if you try to sound like a pirate when you say it.)  It has ginger and orange zest giving it its OOMPH - well, along with a lot of candy sugar and yeast. This is the second time they're brewing this original recipe - the first was 2 years ago and i drank almost all the finished product.  (Steve says he's taking his 5 gallons home with him to protect it from me and my drunken ways.)  This is no beer for lightweights - it packs a punch with 8-9% ABV.  They bottled it the last time - they've since moved on to kegging the beer instead, and I must say, it's a much more enjoyable drinking experience.  There's just something fun about a keg, you know?  The word "keg" makes you think of a party, doesn't it?  Whereas a bottle of beer - pshaw, you can have one of those any time.

Momma came over mid-day.  I bought her a Sansa Fuze for Mother's Day.  She says she loves it, but she has no idea how to use it beyond playing the songs I loaded on it for her.  She brought it over so I could download and sync her chorus music, along with loading the new Christina Aguilera and Susan Boyle CDs.  (She says Christina is trashy, but she has a strong voice.)

Momma was fascinated with the brewing process.  She stood on a makeshift bench Jimi had rigged in the garage and watched as they added boiling water into the tank with the cracked grain, laughing when she realized it smelled so much like oatmeal.  She asked a million questions, as she always does (and how it used to embarrass me!), and these two burly men were happy as clams to answer her every inquiry.  They love showing off how much they know about making beer.  Momma was super impressed.

Moving on.

Our yard is atrocious.  The mowers are both dead, and Jimi's truck was dead until just Saturday, and then there was brewing, so we've not gotten either mower into a repair shop.  And the grass keeps growing.  We've got the biggest, most eye-sore-ing-ess yard on the block!  Momma said we need a riding mower.  She did not, however, ofter to buy us one.

And so the yard grows.

Work was hard today.  I started off my morning firing the driver I hired last Thursday.  Then I found out one of our "veteran" drivers (been employed more than 1 year), um, unembellished the facts of the "minor fender bender" in which he was involved yesterday.  That "minor fender bender" will cost at least $3500 to repair - and that's just our truck.  THEN, the driver who was involved in the not-his-fault crash 2 weeks ago?  Comes back from the occupational physician with a note that he's starting physical therapy, tomorrow, at 10 a.m.

I got to re-do my schedule at least 6 times.

(Glad I went in an hour early.  And skipped lunch.)

But now I am home.  And I made dinner.  (It's been my turn for at least 2 weeks. And I only made Velveeta Shells & Cheese with tuna.  And Bacon.  I think the bacon made it okay that I didn't cook for the last 2 weeks.  Bacon makes everything better.)  And I found a strawberry freeze pop in the back of the freezer.  And there's still a beer or two in the fridge.

So yeah.  Nothing new here.