Uh huh, and.. sorry, but not really.
What's love got to do, got to do with it? No, that ain't it, well, kinda maybe.
What's "Martha" got to do with it?
Lots. She's even older than us. Born in August of 1941, she's 82.
OK, I get age, she's older.. what's the Kentucky Derby connection.
Well, she was selected to announce "Rider's Up", meaning, the jockeys needta get upon their horse and head to the starting gate.. for...... "The fastest two minutes in Sports"...
Martha did a bang up job instructing the riders of the Kentucky Derby to "Rider Up." nevermind the fact she announced it was a great day there in Connecticut, but, who cares about details when one is 70, 80 something plus? Perhaps she'd even make a good third party candidate, but, slap me please for mentioning politics in our quest for living, loving, enjoying - life.
Which (a small detail like Connecticut).......... is kinda the point of this blog. Que sera, sera.....what will be will be, come what may, it's all good, the future ain't ours to see (as long as we can still pee... sorry, saw it, rhymed it.)
At this geezer age, everything is seemingly better. Well, lemme expound... waistlines ain't, teeth, ifya still got 'em, ain't.. we lean a tad more as we walk... there is, can be, 'crop failure' up there on toppa the head... simple tasks like getting up outta the chair or bed can be accompanied by not-on-purpose grunts and groans, occasional flatulence....
BUT.......... the food tastes better. All wine is seemingly fine wine, even that Winking Owl stuff from Aldi's. It's sunk in, time is precious, just like all them jockeys know making the trek during the fastest two minutes in Sports.
The specific party I went to, rocked. THANKS to our buddies who annually put it on. There were flowered hats, beautiful dresses, horsey earrings, dudes all duded up... tables decorated with horseshoes, old Derby glasses, tin buckets (like an oat bucket) fulla people snacks......
There were horses scratched from the race - but, there are no scratches with geezers. In attendance, one that had a major surgery 6 weeks ago... another with a stint in him from just last week... and yet another awaiting surgery later this month. (And, that's just the ones we're aware of, certain there were more.) The handshakes and hugs felt better. The eyeballs meeting of good friends brought on boo koo mems of yesterday, translating to make the smiles larger, in fact, kinda horseshoe-like themselves.
Why no, we ain't going anywhere... but, while we're going, we're gonna celebrate that. Silver yesterdays become golden todays.
What usedta be "you know what burns my butt? A fire about this (up to the butt) high." Nuh uh, not now. That fire is appreciated as it keeps our hands warm on a semi cool Spring day. Call it geriatric Pollyanna'ism if ya wanna - we don't give a rats.
Much has been said about the state, shape, attitude, SEPARATION of our Country. Nun'a that was observed, felt, yesterday. Yum.
We old. We love. We eat, yum. We talk. We smile. We vino (hiccup). We hug, yum. YOLO. No time for sergeants, no, that ain't it.. No time for a bad day.
Canardly. Heard that term long ago. Learned it was about a pooch that one "Can hardly" tell it's bloodline. Canardly.
The Connecticut Derby was SO much fun.
Martha, we canardly wait. We canardly wait for The Bridgeport Marathon... and the New Haven 500. (We don't stinkin' care if we leave out small details like Boston or Daytona.. .we just wanna move, go, do, whilst we can.............. and, savor every droppa vino outta that Winking Owl bottle.)
It is said if ya don't move ya die.
Rider's Up, Connecticut and everywhere.
Love, Victurd
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