Busy Sunday
I will be leaving shortly for a day-long fencing event (went to Saturday vigil mass -- 4:30 in English because Spanish and Portuguese get the prime later spots). I don't plan to put my raw incompetence on display in front of strangers :-) but my sister will be competing ... and I will bring a change of clothes, just in case someone does need a flailing beginner to bout with. I am enjoying this new activity very much, but I am not enjoying trying to make room for it by pushing other activities aside, as of course every added thing knocks something else off the crowded board. There's laundry to fold, acres of things to clean, my websites to update for the new month, snail mail to sort and shred, and more, always more, crammed onto the weekend because of work. How do you do it? And not surrender reading and writing and fandom?
I watched the Kentucky Derby on television yesterday, as I always do. I assume you've heard by now, if you care, but I'll cut-tag just in case. I know it's ridiculous to feel gender identification with a horse, but I do, nevertheless. Whenever a filly or mare gets into one of the classic races, I want her to win, just because she's female. Yesterday, for a few moments, Eight Belles was the second-best three-year-old thoroughbred in the world, as far ahead of the rest of the field as the winner was ahead of her. And then both her front ankles broke. And they killed her there on the track, because they could do nothing for her, and she was in great pain. This, too, is horse racing.
I watched the Kentucky Derby on television yesterday, as I always do. I assume you've heard by now, if you care, but I'll cut-tag just in case. I know it's ridiculous to feel gender identification with a horse, but I do, nevertheless. Whenever a filly or mare gets into one of the classic races, I want her to win, just because she's female. Yesterday, for a few moments, Eight Belles was the second-best three-year-old thoroughbred in the world, as far ahead of the rest of the field as the winner was ahead of her. And then both her front ankles broke. And they killed her there on the track, because they could do nothing for her, and she was in great pain. This, too, is horse racing.