Turning Japanese?


Derby Week

I was all set to pour my heart out, but then I realized it would have been another death entry. That's no good. Today the sun is shining and it's semi-warm and I shouldn't be focusing on the sadness of the world.
I should be focusing on planting my garden. There's these catastrophic bush-like-things in front of our house that I've been meaning to dig up. I'm thinking of planting a couple bushes at the corners and tulips in the middle. But I've never planted anything, so it's still a dream.
Today is Oak's Day, and I'm staying home. Tomorrow is Derby Day and I'm working. No fun-filled Derby festivities for me. David and I went to the Chow Wagon last weekend and it pretty much sucked. It was cold and drizzly, and everything was complicated. All we wanted was a beer for him and an elephant ear for me. So we go up to a food booth and place our order, only to be told we have to pay in tickets. Tickets? Ok. So we go to the ticket booth and buy a $10 "express pak." Elephant ears=$4. Lg. beer=$6. Perfect. Except that all our tickets are green, and it takes red tickets to buy a beer. I'd already handed over $4 worth of tickets for my elephant ear, so we couldn't get them back or trade our remaining green tickets for some red ones. So I ate a $10 elephant ear. It wasn't even that good. Frustrated by this, we walked down to the river to see what band was playing. It was some awful hair metal band, Blow Fish, who did covers of Rage Against the Machine and Korn. We took off before we could catch anything from them.
The best part of the night was the walk to and from the Chow Wagon. We ended up parking about 8 blocks away, and walked by the river. That part was nice. We discovered that if you put a quarter into the telescope thing and turn it around, you can see right into the Galt House hotel rooms. No one on the 10th floor is concerned about closing their curtains, aparently. We saw a couple making out, so we made out too, sitting on a bench with a statue of Lewis & Clark looming behind us. We laughed a lot, and it felt like we'd just met all over again.
So even if the C.W. was a bust, Derby Week is always good for rediscovering romance.
Or meaningless sex, if you're into that sort of thing. The bars here in Louisville don't close on Derby Weekend.
So party on, millionaires and early-twenties-clubbers.