This exact time last year Angela and I were in Louisville, for the Derby, enjoying a great breakfast of grits and bacon and eggs in a little bed and breakfast in Indiana, just over the Kentucky border and about 10 miles from Churchill Downs. We were not alone. In addition to the promised ghosts – which the proprietor told us existed but whom I never saw – we were there with Colby and Kim and David and Nicole and Zack and Susan and Michael, an eccentric and lively crew if ever there was one. (Come to think of it, I know why the ghosts stayed in their closets.)
The weekend began with food and drink and ended the same way; when Angela and I spend time with Colby and Kim that is the order of the day, whether it be Spain or Dallas or Austin. I wagered $50 or so on the horses, failing to add to my holdings, and made a Derby style statement with my knickerbockers.
I am not at the Derby this year, but I am sure I will make another appearance in Louisville in May in another year. And today I will be spending time with Angela, and am certain we will find ourselves in a bar, watching the horses run. (And you read it here first: California Chrome will wear the roses.)