7 April 2007

Santa Anita Derby

The Hammer alternated between the cool water on one side of the trail and a fresh plowed field that will feed you sweet corn in the summer. I had never seen my dog dirtier or happier. In the field she ate a plowed up snake; on the trail she ate fresh shit horse shit. She does not eat too much horse shit. Unlike me, she knows too much of a good thing can fuck you up.

I ate sunflower seeds and drank a couple ales as I considered the farmers working their asses off on their tractors. Most all the farmers recognize me as the dumbfuck they see walking his shit eating dog in the pouring rain from the warmth of their kitchens all winter long. Some of them wave and some of them don't. So long as they get their corn planted I do not care.

After our walk I picked up the racing papers from the race track and returned home. I cooked up a vodka and tomato sauce Sonja and I later ate with saffron spiced buttered orzo. As the sauce simmered I searched the eleven races carded for Santa Anita's Derby Day for a hydrogen bomb big enough to drop on Iran. I could not find one, but I like Tumbaga, a horse who looked nice winning on the grass despite some trip difficulties recently, in the day's second race. Too bad the motherfucker in the racing paper tipped him off because he does not look as good on paper as he did in his last race. Luckily the race is 1 1/2 miles. A distance all but the very best horses handle as unpredictably as I pick winners with wine, beer and whisky as my guide.

After dinner I was talking with a neighbour as our dogs scooted around the park. We were both loaded as country folks' rifles with a cougar who has ate all their cats hanging around looking for more. We both agreed that nice as Steepleton is we and our wives do not to fucking die here. As we talked one of the local homeless guys stopped and joked about the sudden appearance of the year's first swarms of mosquitoes. We laughed. He is just another neighbour. And I will tell you what - I see lots of people looking lots worse than him throwing their money at longshot horses and drinking beer at the racetrack.

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