Off to the Races!

Decades ago I was in Portland for the summer. l had never been to a dog race. So I went. Dog race, where exploited animals get to chase a fake rabbit.

Bought a program.  I know two things about racing dogs.  They are called "Greyhounds" and they each have four legs.

Read the roster, is it called a roster? for the first race.  Not a clue. Parade.  Blue dog with white markings.  I like blue.  $2 to show.  Tote board.  This dog, Madame X, goes off at 8 to 5.  Show ticket will scarce get my money back.  They're off!  First turn the black dog bumps Madame X and she rolls  paws over teakettle plumb off the course.  Beginner's luck?

Second race.  I've assessed this one more carefully.  a true grey greyhound, name "Wendy's Grey."  Had a girlfriend named Wendy once.  $2 to win.  Went off at 35 to one.  Dang!  She won, paid 72.36.  Beginner's luck!

I'm now $6836 to the good.  A great time to quit.  So I do.  Just watch the doggies run.  Third race.  Coming out of the first turn it looks as though a huge animal, horse? no, just the biggest darn greyhound on the planet and a little white beast, almost small enough to be a whippet, are all alone so far in front that they may be the only two in the race.  And they go for the bunny!  They go so fast the Whippet-like thing actually catches the rabbit!  The Horse-like thing grabs it from her teeth, they rip it to shreds just in time for the rest of the field to screech to a stop to behold the carnage.

Darn!  said the Horse.  That thing ain't even real.
Phooey on this whole bit, chimed in the Whippet.
Yeah! All chorused  They turned and trotted across the field to the paddock, or whatever they call a dog enclosure.

The rest of the card was cancelled because the report of the rebellious creatures motivated all the dogs to go on strike.

Full disclosure:  The first four paragraphs are fact, the rest is fiction.

October Adventures Continued

Following Saturday's activities, Sunday was a day of rest.

Monday noon we had the RV loaded; we were soon on the road.

This field of sunflowers about four miles north of Mier on State Road 13.

 Joined with our friends again at Salamonie Park for the last camp out of the season.  Wonderful Fall weather, even better: fellowship with like-minded and good hearted people.(This does not mean we all agree on everything, but we like each other anyway.)

 In the park is the Huntington County Master Gardeners plot.  We strolled through as the insects flitted around, then we hit the road.

 Arrived home in time to pick up the mail (mostly junk) and to note the facelift on the old interurban station.

All adventures end, and yet being home is an adventure in itself.

October Adventures

 The fun began Friday when Heide and Richard took the Birthday Girl (aka BBBH), and me to Noblesville for lunch.

Saturday, The Day, we went to market, she with her list, I with mine.  Guess who got back to the car first.

While I was sitting in the auto waiting for her return this beauty drove into the lot and parked.  1947 Pontiac.

Saturday evening it's off to Frankfort for the wiener roast that she requested for her party.

Twenty of her children, grandchildren, and a couple of great grandchildren joined the celebration in Kent's backyard.  Needless to say she was thrilled!

(To be continued)

Wheeee!

Yesterday was the birthday of
BBBH. Before you chastise me for failure to make mention of the fact consider that I was so busy during that day making the lady happy that I didn't have time to blog.  If you follow her on her Facebook page you know how many birthdays she has had but I won't tell.  Fewer than I have had, suffice it to say. When I asked her earlier how she wanted her birthday celebrated she said she'd like to have a wiener roast with fire pit and all that good stuff. So I gathered a bunch of supplies and her youngest son very kindly invited us to have the party in his backyard because he has a fire pit and a lot of firewood and all that sort of thing so we wandered over to Frankfort and an awfully lot of people showed up which made her very happy and of course in turn made me very happy.

We are resting now.

Things I'd Never Heard of

before I moved to Indiana.

1.  Pasta in chili

2.  Noodles over mashed potatoes; beef and noodles, chicken and noodles, noodles.

3.  Deep fried paper-thin breaded tenderloin (pork) sandwich.  Just say "the tenderloin with . . ."¹

4.  The terminal "a" in a place-name pronounced as though it were a "y".²

5.  Pineys³

6.  Persimmon pudding.  Why didn't I know about this sooner?!

7.  Sugar cream pie.  Really?  Where's the fruit?

Although I had heard of basketball, I did not know it was a religion until I moved to Indiana.  There are two altars at which the devotees may worship.  Some are converts to the religion if they were born elsewhere, but most are born to the sect they follow.  Failure to worship at one of the shrines can get your Hoosier citizenship revoked.

The "Indy 500"  I had heard of it of course but was not aware that the entire state and all its activities were given over to it for an entire month every year.  It is billed as "The Greatest Spectacle in Racing" and every Hoosier pitches in in the attempt to make it so.

To our immediate south is Louisville, Not Indiana.  There the first Saturday in May is given to the Kentucky Derby which is denoted "The Greatest Two Minutes in Sports."  I could say that thousands of people gathered in one place to show off their sartorial finery and drink mint juleps seems considerably more genteel than thousands of people gathered inside a two-and-one-half mile oval to engage in a day-long beer bash. But to say it could well get my Hoosier citizenship revoked, for sure, and I have kept my nose clean as an Indiana resident for sixty years.  I like it here and don't want to jeopardize my standing.

¹The battle rages.  Whose eatery in the State serves "the best" tenderloin?  What condiments may be eaten on it?  Lettuce and tomato?  Mustard and dill pickle? and so on.

²This is widespread within the state.  "Jalapa" = Jalapy;  "Vienna" = Vi-enny; "Plevna" = Plevny; among others.

³I am not referring to piney woods  I refer to Indiana's state flower: the peony, which is pronounced "piney."  Well, by some people, anyway.

Pruning

I am pruning the crab apple tree.  Note that I did not say "I pruned the tree."  And why would that be?
I started the job Monday, wore myself out and bruised my left forearm a good bit.  I took Tuesday off.  Today I went back at it, lopping and sweating;  I'm exhausted.

I think I have the job at point such that I can finish it tomorrow, if I live that long.

I am now at that stage of life that my daddy told me about, the time when it takes three days to do a three hour job.

Cricket

We seem to have an infestation of crickets in our house this fall.  At any rate, I have removed three or four a week.  For centuries it has been believed in many cultures that a cricket in the house is good luck and to remove it or to kill it is bad luck in the extreme.  I am not so superstitious, but unlike BBBH who has been known to skoosh them, I grab and toss out the door.

Thus to study this phenomenon in greater detail I went to google and opened images.  What should I get?  Insects, of  course.  What, in fact, did I get?  Pictures of men garbed in serious protective gear and holding a strange fat bat.  Say what?  Not one image of a cricket.  What has the world come to?









cricket



Some people believe that an unusual manifestation of crickets in the house portends a hard winter.
Personally I think any winter would be hard for such a tiny creature.  I know that is the case for me.

It is claimed that one can determine the air temperature by counting the number of chirps emitted by a cricket in 14 seconds.  To this number add 40 to get the temperature F.  That is c + 40 = degrees F.

For you in Canada, and in a huge portion of the world if you need your reading C,
count the number of chirps in 25 seconds, divide by 3 and add 4.  That is c/3 + 4 = degrees C.

Get your stopwatch and have at it.  I say as I hear the cheery chirrup of a critter challenging me to oust him from the premises.

Vroom-vroom!

 It finally happened.  I can't tell you how many times over the years that I have seen BBBH in a parking lot talking to a motorcycle guy.  I've long had this niggling fear that she would one day ride off on the back of a two-wheeler.  It finally happened today.

r

And there she goes!

To fulfill the dream for her, her son, Curt brought his machine over and took her to Mississinewa State Park.  They had lunch in Greentown and made an afternoon of it.

They returned safe and sound.  Well, as sound as motorcycle devotees can be.