I’ve had a lot of roommate drama in my life. From moldy cheesy rice over Christmas break to total abandonment of rent responsibilities and all possessions (yard sale will take care of that), I lived with some crappy people. Even the one roommate I’ve had who didn’t suck was just kind of ‘okay’ to live with. I mean, she didn’t offend me or steal from me, but we did really bond the way I’ve always see other people bond with their roommates. And when I saw ‘see other people’, I’m talking about movies.
I was sure that somewhere in the world, people who weren’t related or dating were living together in roommate situations, and they really liked each other. Not only that, they became closer and closer friends and really reached that certain level of friendship that can only come with roommateland.
But I had so many terrible roommates in college, I couldn’t WAIT to live by myself. It was one of the things I was happiest about when I moved to Louisville.
Then I read a book called Blue Like Jazz… and the author talks for awhile about how God wants us to live in community with each other and how it’s not good for our emotional or spiritual welfare to live all alone. I’m not going to say I made my whole roommate decision on that, but the argument did make a lot of sense to me.
(skip forward about 6 months)
Now I have a roommate. She’s grrrrrreat!
And we just had a super-fab roommate weekend.
We’ve gone through just enough of those inexplicable-bad-moods, cry-uncontrollably-over-cats, early-morning, late-night, cooking, cleaning, etc. to really start ‘getting’ each other. She came with me to a social outing that would have undoubtedly been way more awkward than if she hadn’t on Friday. Then the rest of the holiday weekend was filled with cooking together, trying new recipes, shopping, sharing favorite wine, having people over, going to the pool, watching classic movies… all together. And it was great.
Vivie is teaching me that not only are not all roommates crappy… some of them are wonderful. Stop the presses!
Oh, yeah. She’s sick today… sore throat, congested, coughy, etc…and…uh…. I woke up with a sore throat today. Sigh….
My throat coat tea (which I only use in drastic throat trauma because it messes me up on the air) (but it’s really yummy and makes me feel better)… has a little tab on the top of the string and today it told me, “Let your heart speak to others’ hearts.”
Okay, Throat Coat Tea… weird…
My Splenda told me something really awesome the other day too… something about my smile being the sweetest of all.
That’s right. My Throat Coat Tea and Splenda packets know me like nobody’s business.
Standby…
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Two weird phone conversations I’ve had today:
(a lady WHOSE NAME WAS ON A PRESS RELEASE I called for comment)
Me: Okay, I’ll just go ahead and start recording, so I can use this interview for our newscasts, if that’s okay with you…
Her: Well, I don’t know about that.
Me: ????
Her: I haven’t had a lot of luck with that.
Me: Well… I’m just going to pull two or three short quotes to use in our stories…
Her: Yeah, and people like to cut and paste my words to make them say things I didn’t really say
Me: Honestly, I don’t know why we would go to all that trouble with this particular story… we’re a news organization, and –
Her: Well, I don’t know if I can trust you.
Me: ?!?!???!?!!!!
Her: Can I trust you?
Me: yyeeesss…..???
Her: Okay, I’ll trust you. ONCE.
Me: ::eyes rolling::
Another…
(phone rings)
Me: Newsroom, this is Stephanie.
Him: (says his name, someone I’d left a message for earlier. Just a name, nothing else.)
Me: Oh, yes! Thanks for calling me back!
Him: Are you the one who was supposed to cut my grass today?
Me: ???? nnoooo….
Him: Okay, well, I wasn’t sure… what do you want to interview me about?
(proceed with interview about politics)
Me: Okay, sir, thank you for your time!
Him: Okay, kiddo, keep smilin’ (click)
Me: ::staring at the phone receiver, mouth agape::
Phones are fun!
Me: Okay, I’ll just go ahead and start recording, so I can use this interview for our newscasts, if that’s okay with you…
Her: Well, I don’t know about that.
Me: ????
Her: I haven’t had a lot of luck with that.
Me: Well… I’m just going to pull two or three short quotes to use in our stories…
Her: Yeah, and people like to cut and paste my words to make them say things I didn’t really say
Me: Honestly, I don’t know why we would go to all that trouble with this particular story… we’re a news organization, and –
Her: Well, I don’t know if I can trust you.
Me: ?!?!???!?!!!!
Her: Can I trust you?
Me: yyeeesss…..???
Her: Okay, I’ll trust you. ONCE.
Me: ::eyes rolling::
Another…
(phone rings)
Me: Newsroom, this is Stephanie.
Him: (says his name, someone I’d left a message for earlier. Just a name, nothing else.)
Me: Oh, yes! Thanks for calling me back!
Him: Are you the one who was supposed to cut my grass today?
Me: ???? nnoooo….
Him: Okay, well, I wasn’t sure… what do you want to interview me about?
(proceed with interview about politics)
Me: Okay, sir, thank you for your time!
Him: Okay, kiddo, keep smilin’ (click)
Me: ::staring at the phone receiver, mouth agape::
Phones are fun!
From one whirlwind to another
I got to host our election coverage on Tuesday night! It was great! But really tiring. It’s weird how mentally exhausted you can be when you’re physically okay, isn’t it?
I need to go back a few topics, from well-before I left for vacation….
My Amazing Friend Ann
Sometime back before I left on vacation (feels like a hundred years ago), a few of my friends and I went to see our Amazing Friend Ann sing at a Kentucky Derby Festival event at Waterfront Park.
(background for those of you who don’t know My Amazing Friend Ann, she’s an opera singer. I’ve been to an opera in which she was singing before, but she was part of a chorus, and an OFFSTAGE chorus at that. So it was a little difficult to separate her melodious tones from all the others in that particular circumstance. Other than that, I’d never heard her sing.)
She was singing on a huge stage with a jazz band and I was really, really excited about it.
We got there late, because of some faulty information, but when we got there, my friends, it was incredible. It was really cool to see her command her presence on the stage. I know that seems weird to say, but she had just told us she was nervous and then she walked up to the mic and gave this spiel about why people should listen to that jazz band more often, but she did it in such a cute and charming way! It was great.
I have picture of this, in fact a really cute one with her hands on her hips and a really animated look on her face, but not with me, sorry.
Anyway, AFTER that amazingness… she then sang and it. was. awesome!!! I think all of us (my group of friends) were stunned because her singing voice sounds nothing like her speaking voice. And now that I’ve thought about it, I think that makes way more sense than them sounding the same, doesn’t it?
Here’s the other thing… she’s so humble about it. It’s beautiful.
Then, a few weeks later, someone convinced her to sing something at my apartment… and it was even cooler! She was sitting right next to me! By the way, she never does that, so don’t be all “well, you did it at Steph’s house, so why can’t you do it now?” because it won’t work.
Anyway, my point here is that I discovered the awesome talent of my friend Ann and it was even better than I imagined. She’s just great. It’s nice to keep learning new, interesting, startling, delightful things about the people you love, isn’t it?
There was another past topic I wanted to revisit, but I can’t remember what it was…
Standby…
I need to go back a few topics, from well-before I left for vacation….
My Amazing Friend Ann
Sometime back before I left on vacation (feels like a hundred years ago), a few of my friends and I went to see our Amazing Friend Ann sing at a Kentucky Derby Festival event at Waterfront Park.
(background for those of you who don’t know My Amazing Friend Ann, she’s an opera singer. I’ve been to an opera in which she was singing before, but she was part of a chorus, and an OFFSTAGE chorus at that. So it was a little difficult to separate her melodious tones from all the others in that particular circumstance. Other than that, I’d never heard her sing.)
She was singing on a huge stage with a jazz band and I was really, really excited about it.
We got there late, because of some faulty information, but when we got there, my friends, it was incredible. It was really cool to see her command her presence on the stage. I know that seems weird to say, but she had just told us she was nervous and then she walked up to the mic and gave this spiel about why people should listen to that jazz band more often, but she did it in such a cute and charming way! It was great.
I have picture of this, in fact a really cute one with her hands on her hips and a really animated look on her face, but not with me, sorry.
Anyway, AFTER that amazingness… she then sang and it. was. awesome!!! I think all of us (my group of friends) were stunned because her singing voice sounds nothing like her speaking voice. And now that I’ve thought about it, I think that makes way more sense than them sounding the same, doesn’t it?
Here’s the other thing… she’s so humble about it. It’s beautiful.
Then, a few weeks later, someone convinced her to sing something at my apartment… and it was even cooler! She was sitting right next to me! By the way, she never does that, so don’t be all “well, you did it at Steph’s house, so why can’t you do it now?” because it won’t work.
Anyway, my point here is that I discovered the awesome talent of my friend Ann and it was even better than I imagined. She’s just great. It’s nice to keep learning new, interesting, startling, delightful things about the people you love, isn’t it?
There was another past topic I wanted to revisit, but I can’t remember what it was…
Standby…
Saturday, May 17, 2008
An exhausting, exhilarating, whirlwind of a week
Let me first say, I'm SO happy to be home. Really. I'll get to more of that later. This week I was gone to Chapel Hill for work, and instead of trying to remember a bunch of things to blog about, I wrote them down! Genius! So here we go:
Moms and Little Girls (this one I actually wrote out in my hotel room because I had so many thoughts swirling around in my head, I didn't want to risk them fading)
There was a cute little family camped out next to us one day while we were at the beach. Mom, Dad, and daughter - I first noticed the little girl because of her bouncy curly hair being tossed ashew by the constant beach wind...and her tiny hot pink Crocs, which were too big for her feet. The family spent the day next to mine and it became quite clear the little one was tired and it was time to go.
She was whimpering to her mom about wanting to play more when her dad picked up the toys and carried them the long walk to the water to 'rinse' them off. She followed him. The mom started walking off the beach to rinse off in the showers.
She'd gotten about 20 yards (yes I measure things in yards, thank you marching band) away from their spot on the beach when everyone heard the piercing shrieks of her daughter who was even farther away, but in a different direction.
The girl flew back to their spot as quickly as her tiny chubby legs would carry her, her miniscule voice blistering the air with 'Moooooommmmmmmmmmmyyyy!!'
This was not the same sound as the whining or crying or backtalk. This was genuine. fear.
And the mom instantly knew it because her tone changed too... 'Honey! I'm here!' 'I'm right here!' 'I would NEVER leave you!' ' Yes, I was mad at you, but that doesn't mean I would leave you!'
It was east in this observation to think 'aw...that's sweet'. But really, I would react that way too if I thought my mom was walking out of m life. Maybe not out loud, but the shrieking would definitely be in my head.
Okay, let's be honest. It would be out loud.
Then, a few days later, Mother's Day, I was at the airport in Louisville, walking to my gate when a a girl about the same age at the curly haired beach girl was walking the opposite direction as me (toward me) with her father, who was steering her shoulders. The girl had a contorted, troubled expression on her face, her eyes darting across the faces of approaching strangers.
Then, just past me, her eyes fixed on SOMETHING, and all those tightened muscles in her tiny cherub face melted into relaxation, and then a smile, and she shouted 'I see her!'. She looked up at her dad, and then ran past me.
I wanted to, but I didn't look behind me. I knew who was there.
My heart feels the same way sometimes when I haven't seen my mom in awhile and I get that first I-missed-you hug. Ahhhh.....
I may not act it out everyday like those girls, Mom, but I love you with that same heart-filled, desperate adoration.
'Those' drivers
Sometimes when I'm driving (especially downtown) I come across (or nearly get killed by) one of 'those' drivers. The ones that are in the far left hand lane of a four lane, one-way street, and decide in the middle of an intersection that they want to be turning right and instead of going straight and then working your way back around, or even stopping and waiting until there's no other traffic, they pull out in front of like a zillion other cars and zip away. When this happens, I often think to myself 'who ARE these people?' Even in an unfamiliar city, it's just unacceptable.
Well, I've met one of these people. And ridden in their car.
From my investigation, I can tell you it comes from a lack of responsibility for their vehicle and a total unawareness that other people are using the same roads they're using. Truly. I know it sounds strange.
Radio people
I don't need to go into all the particulars of my project last week here, but basically I was working on a project with national radio people and student journalists in which the students crafted a radio story and mentors (me) helped them on the story.
I work with radio people every day (duh). But this was different. I was really nice to carry on conversations with people about the editing software, the digital recording equipment, etc. without going into a 30 spiel about WHAT IT IS. SO nice.
Another funny thing, I was riding everywhere we went with the program director of the project and an engineer who was running technical stuff for the program because we were all staying in the same hotel and I didn't have a car and he did. So, every morning, we met at the car. After the first two mornings, I was marveling at how we all managed to arrive at practically the exact same time. None of us were late, none of us were early. Exact. Precise. Radio precise. ahhh...
One more funny radio thing... on the fourth day of the project, the engineer guy had been mixing our stories together and when he's finished, each team listened to the final version alone to make sure everything was okay and it was truly finished. One team expressed come concern over something in their final mix and the engineer asked them 'was it in the mix or the bounce?'
It still makes me chuckle. What a weird sentence. It's not weird to us, but it was one of those moments where you think 'if there was someone here who DIDN'T work in radio, they would think we're all crazy'.
I you want to know more about what that question meant, I'll tell you, but be prepared for the spiel.
Robot conductor
I heard a radio story this week about a robot conducting a professional orchestra in a concert (I think in Detroit?).
Two words: Not. Acceptable.
One of the musicians in the story said the robot 'kept really, great time, like a metronome'. DUH!! Of course it did! Metronomes are machines and so are robots! So all it takes now to be a conductor is memorizing a 'routine' (shudders go down my spine) and keeping perfect time?! I'm aghast!
As a person who formerly conducted a large ensemble and LOVED it, I am appalled. I understand orchestras need to bring in people these days and that's sad, but gimmicks like this that take away the ART and MUSICALITY of something are inexcusable.
(pause)
I just realized this part is sounding like a really trite letter to the editor, so I'll get off my high horse for a moment and just say this: Please, orchestras, for the love... don't DO IT! Robots can't look at musicians and speak emotion into a performance with a look in their eye... they can't FEEL music and they certainly can't veer off their 'routine' if something goes wrong in the performance and needs to be remedied. I could go on and on about this... but I won't. Please. Please stop. You're breaking my heart.
Sandwich, salad, sandwich, salad, vomit.
I ate out a lot this week. Turns out, in Chapel Hill, you can't really WALK from your hotel to a fast food joint. Besides, we went out as a group a lot and I hung out with David and Katie a couple of nights. All out lunches were catered in, courtesy of the radio station we were working in. It was really nice to not have to worry about navigating a foreign town to find food all the time when we were concentrating on a project and I'm really grateful for the free food, really.
But it was a lot of sandwiches. And salad.
By Tuesday (or was it Wednesday?) I was ravenous for food that was hot and required a fork. For some reason, mashed potatoes kept popping into my head. Please, fork usage!
It was weird because we were eating in these really great restaurants every night and I was getting to try food that I had only previously seen on Top Chef or Food Network and it was all REALLY good. I just wanted mashed potatoes. Just once. And then I'd go back to chilled salmon and panna cotta and crab cakes and truffle oil. Mashed. Potatoes.
Alas, there were no mashed potatoes anywhere... I DID have gnocci the last night we were there. (funny: my spell check doesn't recognize the word gnocci, and the options in case its misspelled are Pinocchio and genocide) Gnocci is sort of potato-y, but also kinda pasta-y, so it was only partially there.
Don't worry, I had mashed potatoes today, thank YOU Texas Roadhouse!
Okay, I'm spent. I got up at 5:30 today to ride in a cab with mandatory shiatsu massage chairs and it was quite painful and then got on a very scary plane ride and now I'm tired. It's good to be home.
Standby...
Moms and Little Girls (this one I actually wrote out in my hotel room because I had so many thoughts swirling around in my head, I didn't want to risk them fading)
There was a cute little family camped out next to us one day while we were at the beach. Mom, Dad, and daughter - I first noticed the little girl because of her bouncy curly hair being tossed ashew by the constant beach wind...and her tiny hot pink Crocs, which were too big for her feet. The family spent the day next to mine and it became quite clear the little one was tired and it was time to go.
She was whimpering to her mom about wanting to play more when her dad picked up the toys and carried them the long walk to the water to 'rinse' them off. She followed him. The mom started walking off the beach to rinse off in the showers.
She'd gotten about 20 yards (yes I measure things in yards, thank you marching band) away from their spot on the beach when everyone heard the piercing shrieks of her daughter who was even farther away, but in a different direction.
The girl flew back to their spot as quickly as her tiny chubby legs would carry her, her miniscule voice blistering the air with 'Moooooommmmmmmmmmmyyyy!!'
This was not the same sound as the whining or crying or backtalk. This was genuine. fear.
And the mom instantly knew it because her tone changed too... 'Honey! I'm here!' 'I'm right here!' 'I would NEVER leave you!' ' Yes, I was mad at you, but that doesn't mean I would leave you!'
It was east in this observation to think 'aw...that's sweet'. But really, I would react that way too if I thought my mom was walking out of m life. Maybe not out loud, but the shrieking would definitely be in my head.
Okay, let's be honest. It would be out loud.
Then, a few days later, Mother's Day, I was at the airport in Louisville, walking to my gate when a a girl about the same age at the curly haired beach girl was walking the opposite direction as me (toward me) with her father, who was steering her shoulders. The girl had a contorted, troubled expression on her face, her eyes darting across the faces of approaching strangers.
Then, just past me, her eyes fixed on SOMETHING, and all those tightened muscles in her tiny cherub face melted into relaxation, and then a smile, and she shouted 'I see her!'. She looked up at her dad, and then ran past me.
I wanted to, but I didn't look behind me. I knew who was there.
My heart feels the same way sometimes when I haven't seen my mom in awhile and I get that first I-missed-you hug. Ahhhh.....
I may not act it out everyday like those girls, Mom, but I love you with that same heart-filled, desperate adoration.
'Those' drivers
Sometimes when I'm driving (especially downtown) I come across (or nearly get killed by) one of 'those' drivers. The ones that are in the far left hand lane of a four lane, one-way street, and decide in the middle of an intersection that they want to be turning right and instead of going straight and then working your way back around, or even stopping and waiting until there's no other traffic, they pull out in front of like a zillion other cars and zip away. When this happens, I often think to myself 'who ARE these people?' Even in an unfamiliar city, it's just unacceptable.
Well, I've met one of these people. And ridden in their car.
From my investigation, I can tell you it comes from a lack of responsibility for their vehicle and a total unawareness that other people are using the same roads they're using. Truly. I know it sounds strange.
Radio people
I don't need to go into all the particulars of my project last week here, but basically I was working on a project with national radio people and student journalists in which the students crafted a radio story and mentors (me) helped them on the story.
I work with radio people every day (duh). But this was different. I was really nice to carry on conversations with people about the editing software, the digital recording equipment, etc. without going into a 30 spiel about WHAT IT IS. SO nice.
Another funny thing, I was riding everywhere we went with the program director of the project and an engineer who was running technical stuff for the program because we were all staying in the same hotel and I didn't have a car and he did. So, every morning, we met at the car. After the first two mornings, I was marveling at how we all managed to arrive at practically the exact same time. None of us were late, none of us were early. Exact. Precise. Radio precise. ahhh...
One more funny radio thing... on the fourth day of the project, the engineer guy had been mixing our stories together and when he's finished, each team listened to the final version alone to make sure everything was okay and it was truly finished. One team expressed come concern over something in their final mix and the engineer asked them 'was it in the mix or the bounce?'
It still makes me chuckle. What a weird sentence. It's not weird to us, but it was one of those moments where you think 'if there was someone here who DIDN'T work in radio, they would think we're all crazy'.
I you want to know more about what that question meant, I'll tell you, but be prepared for the spiel.
Robot conductor
I heard a radio story this week about a robot conducting a professional orchestra in a concert (I think in Detroit?).
Two words: Not. Acceptable.
One of the musicians in the story said the robot 'kept really, great time, like a metronome'. DUH!! Of course it did! Metronomes are machines and so are robots! So all it takes now to be a conductor is memorizing a 'routine' (shudders go down my spine) and keeping perfect time?! I'm aghast!
As a person who formerly conducted a large ensemble and LOVED it, I am appalled. I understand orchestras need to bring in people these days and that's sad, but gimmicks like this that take away the ART and MUSICALITY of something are inexcusable.
(pause)
I just realized this part is sounding like a really trite letter to the editor, so I'll get off my high horse for a moment and just say this: Please, orchestras, for the love... don't DO IT! Robots can't look at musicians and speak emotion into a performance with a look in their eye... they can't FEEL music and they certainly can't veer off their 'routine' if something goes wrong in the performance and needs to be remedied. I could go on and on about this... but I won't. Please. Please stop. You're breaking my heart.
Sandwich, salad, sandwich, salad, vomit.
I ate out a lot this week. Turns out, in Chapel Hill, you can't really WALK from your hotel to a fast food joint. Besides, we went out as a group a lot and I hung out with David and Katie a couple of nights. All out lunches were catered in, courtesy of the radio station we were working in. It was really nice to not have to worry about navigating a foreign town to find food all the time when we were concentrating on a project and I'm really grateful for the free food, really.
But it was a lot of sandwiches. And salad.
By Tuesday (or was it Wednesday?) I was ravenous for food that was hot and required a fork. For some reason, mashed potatoes kept popping into my head. Please, fork usage!
It was weird because we were eating in these really great restaurants every night and I was getting to try food that I had only previously seen on Top Chef or Food Network and it was all REALLY good. I just wanted mashed potatoes. Just once. And then I'd go back to chilled salmon and panna cotta and crab cakes and truffle oil. Mashed. Potatoes.
Alas, there were no mashed potatoes anywhere... I DID have gnocci the last night we were there. (funny: my spell check doesn't recognize the word gnocci, and the options in case its misspelled are Pinocchio and genocide) Gnocci is sort of potato-y, but also kinda pasta-y, so it was only partially there.
Don't worry, I had mashed potatoes today, thank YOU Texas Roadhouse!
Okay, I'm spent. I got up at 5:30 today to ride in a cab with mandatory shiatsu massage chairs and it was quite painful and then got on a very scary plane ride and now I'm tired. It's good to be home.
Standby...
Saturday, May 10, 2008
I'm back! And now I'm leaving again...
Howdy gang!!
Well, it's been a great vacation. Great. Beach. Pool. Book. Good food. Beach. Book. Wine. Good food. Pool. Book. Beach. You get the idea.
That's what vacation is all about, right? Relax, recharge.
I have a few topics I've been storing up this week:
Eight Belles
I have never cried over a horse in my life. Until Saturday.
Being a Kentucky girl, I have a strong affection for the Kentucky Derby. I can't really describe why, I just...love it. So when I was told we were traveling OUT of Louisville on Derby Day, I wasn't terribly excited about it, but I didn't have much choice. I was glad, however, that we would arrive in Jacksonville, get a rental car, drive to St. Augustine, and get settled in well before the running of the Kentucky Derby. We got there with so much time to spare I even had time to watch all that pre-Derby coverage with features and such on ESPN and NBC.
Louisville lights up during the Kentucky Derby Festival, which starts two weeks before the Derby. Without getting into the whole of it, I can just tell you there are 'Great Bed Races', 'the Great Steamboat Race', a hot air balloon race, the biggest fireworks show in the country, and general hysteria for those two weeks, and Oaks Day (the Friday before) is basically a holiday and only essential career-people work. So, while you may be just learning about the horses who will run for the roses in the hour before the race, we Louisvillians are learning about these horses WEEKS in advance.
I liked Eight Belles immediately. For all those girl-power obvious reasons that many women liked her, but for more than that too. Yeah, it's rare to have a filly in the Derby, and ever rarer for a filly to win. And, whoa, she had a shot! She was just as big as the boys, and beautiful. Gorgeous.
I also liked her because her trainer was a good ol' Kentucky boy. He doesn't have stables and stables and stables of horses like SOME trainers we know. Those trainers who don't even know their horses and just order their minions to take care of them. The trainer of Eight Belles was hands-on, he knew her, he exercised her himself. It warmed my heart to seem him riding her in morning workouts at Churchill on ESPN, with a wireless lav mic, gently encouraging her, joking with her. I liked everything about them.
When they were coming down the stretch in the Derby race, and she gave that last little bit of power she had and looked for a second like she might try to outduel Big Brown, I remember shouting 'come on, honey!' (or did I just think it?) and when she was clearly beaten, but well ahead the rest of the pack, I thought 'well, she gave him a good race'.
Then the announcer saying she was off-screen and has collapsed. My heart saying no, no, no!! The announcer saying 'maybe it was a heart attack, maybe she's just really tired and is recuperating. My heart saying its much worse. I clutched the throw pillow that was on the couch to my chest...heard the vet talking into his cell phone... saw the jubilation of the winning jockey and trainer, didn't register...then the words 'two shattered ankles'... 'euthanize'.
And I burst into tears. A few seconds later I felt silly for crying over a horse. Then I didn't feel silly at all.
I'm not here to talk about what's wrong or what's right with the horse racing industry or the thoroughbred breeding industry. I'm just sad. Sad that it happened during the Kentucky Derby, when the eyes of the whole country is on Louisville, Kentucky and our state's signature industry. Sad that it happened to a trainer who so clearly loves and cares for his horses. Sad that it happened to a filly that had inspired me by not being afraid of the best male three-year-olds in the world.
My parents
are awesome. I've said it before and I'll say it again. They. Are. Awesome.
Things that I forget how much I love them until I am reminded
playing tennis
getting completely lost in a book (not just reading here and there, INHABITING a book)
CRAB LEGS
Okay, that's all I can think of for now, which is sad, because I know I thought of a lot more over the last week.
But, even if I could think of them, I need to stop writing because I have to get up in the morning and go to the airport again! That's right!
I'm going on ANOTHER trip... this one to Chapel Hill for work... so prepare yourselves for another blog drought from Steph.
The good news is I'm not jumping straight back into the work grind after vacation... I'm taking part in an NPR workshop... and I get to see David and Katie again!
There WILL be pictures of vaca when I get back, I'm just too lazy to deal with all that right now.
Standby...
Well, it's been a great vacation. Great. Beach. Pool. Book. Good food. Beach. Book. Wine. Good food. Pool. Book. Beach. You get the idea.
That's what vacation is all about, right? Relax, recharge.
I have a few topics I've been storing up this week:
Eight Belles
I have never cried over a horse in my life. Until Saturday.
Being a Kentucky girl, I have a strong affection for the Kentucky Derby. I can't really describe why, I just...love it. So when I was told we were traveling OUT of Louisville on Derby Day, I wasn't terribly excited about it, but I didn't have much choice. I was glad, however, that we would arrive in Jacksonville, get a rental car, drive to St. Augustine, and get settled in well before the running of the Kentucky Derby. We got there with so much time to spare I even had time to watch all that pre-Derby coverage with features and such on ESPN and NBC.
Louisville lights up during the Kentucky Derby Festival, which starts two weeks before the Derby. Without getting into the whole of it, I can just tell you there are 'Great Bed Races', 'the Great Steamboat Race', a hot air balloon race, the biggest fireworks show in the country, and general hysteria for those two weeks, and Oaks Day (the Friday before) is basically a holiday and only essential career-people work. So, while you may be just learning about the horses who will run for the roses in the hour before the race, we Louisvillians are learning about these horses WEEKS in advance.
I liked Eight Belles immediately. For all those girl-power obvious reasons that many women liked her, but for more than that too. Yeah, it's rare to have a filly in the Derby, and ever rarer for a filly to win. And, whoa, she had a shot! She was just as big as the boys, and beautiful. Gorgeous.
I also liked her because her trainer was a good ol' Kentucky boy. He doesn't have stables and stables and stables of horses like SOME trainers we know. Those trainers who don't even know their horses and just order their minions to take care of them. The trainer of Eight Belles was hands-on, he knew her, he exercised her himself. It warmed my heart to seem him riding her in morning workouts at Churchill on ESPN, with a wireless lav mic, gently encouraging her, joking with her. I liked everything about them.
When they were coming down the stretch in the Derby race, and she gave that last little bit of power she had and looked for a second like she might try to outduel Big Brown, I remember shouting 'come on, honey!' (or did I just think it?) and when she was clearly beaten, but well ahead the rest of the pack, I thought 'well, she gave him a good race'.
Then the announcer saying she was off-screen and has collapsed. My heart saying no, no, no!! The announcer saying 'maybe it was a heart attack, maybe she's just really tired and is recuperating. My heart saying its much worse. I clutched the throw pillow that was on the couch to my chest...heard the vet talking into his cell phone... saw the jubilation of the winning jockey and trainer, didn't register...then the words 'two shattered ankles'... 'euthanize'.
And I burst into tears. A few seconds later I felt silly for crying over a horse. Then I didn't feel silly at all.
I'm not here to talk about what's wrong or what's right with the horse racing industry or the thoroughbred breeding industry. I'm just sad. Sad that it happened during the Kentucky Derby, when the eyes of the whole country is on Louisville, Kentucky and our state's signature industry. Sad that it happened to a trainer who so clearly loves and cares for his horses. Sad that it happened to a filly that had inspired me by not being afraid of the best male three-year-olds in the world.
My parents
are awesome. I've said it before and I'll say it again. They. Are. Awesome.
Things that I forget how much I love them until I am reminded
playing tennis
getting completely lost in a book (not just reading here and there, INHABITING a book)
CRAB LEGS
Okay, that's all I can think of for now, which is sad, because I know I thought of a lot more over the last week.
But, even if I could think of them, I need to stop writing because I have to get up in the morning and go to the airport again! That's right!
I'm going on ANOTHER trip... this one to Chapel Hill for work... so prepare yourselves for another blog drought from Steph.
The good news is I'm not jumping straight back into the work grind after vacation... I'm taking part in an NPR workshop... and I get to see David and Katie again!
There WILL be pictures of vaca when I get back, I'm just too lazy to deal with all that right now.
Standby...
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