The Preakness was about half an hour into its programming when Bob Costas announced that "in less than 90 minutes, the race . . . . "
Guess I'm gonna be sitting here longer than expected, I thought to myself.
I had come inside from mowing about two thirds of one section of lawn. For a moment, I considered going back outside to finish it, knowing I'd have plenty of time before the race.
But the feature stories associated with the horses and their owners----that's what I really love about these special racing programs.
Plus, the Preakness still remained important in my mind. After all, my children, now 36 and almost 35, were born the last two times we had Triple Crown winners.
I love this time of year and the expectation that maybe this year we'll see another. So, I was pulling for Orb, even though I was wishing Rosie could win with her horse. I really like Rosie, the jockey. She's got a bit of zip to her attitude, and I like that in people.
Then, there was "It's My Lucky Day." All I've thought of every time I've heard that horse's name is my SHS classmate Ron Sipes who starred in the pizza ad as the guy in the pimp hat scratching off his lottery ticket, saying, "Guess it's my lucky day," only to be hit on the head by a bowling ball.
Izn't that the way the commercial went? If not. Close enough. Ron had a few lucky days in his life, I'm guessing, because of his deep, distinct voice and because he served booze at the 219 Lounge, which he owned and where some Hollywood types discovered him.
Sadly, Ron is no longer with us, as he died from cancer a few years ago.
Every time "it's my lucky day" arises, however, I'm guessing most of the SHS Class of 1965 will think of Ron Sipes.
Well, the feature stories on this year's 9-horse Preakness paled compared to most other racing specials. Regurgitation of the same-o, same-o comes to mind when I think about sitting there for almost three hours, hoping for some tear-jerking or inspirational story.
As Bill nodded off on the couch, I kept watch for something good. Then, I heard a low-toned burp on the kitchen island.
My cell phone had a message---from Debbie who was putting in her second day at a garage sale. She had sold a set of my books the day before for $20. We were splitting 50-50, so I'd earned $10 at the sale.
I thought maybe she'd hit paydirt and sold some more.
Nope.
Her message: you'd better buy a lottery ticket. It's the richest one ever.
I didn't know the drawing was yesterday, but Debbie, in some later messages, informed me that, yes, indeedie, the $600-million lottery winner should buy the ticket by 5 p.m.
So, I told her I'd get done with the Lucky Day and Orb stuff and then go to town to buy my ticket.
Orb went down, so did Lucky Day. The old man riding Oxbow took it all. Yay, Gary Stevens. Good bye Triple Crown 2013.
Next year.
A little more than an hour. That's all I had left to go to Sand Creek Conoco, buy my winning ticket and help out my buddies who sell me coffee every day for several different prices. They always try to find a rationalization for my getting a cheaper cup of coffee.
I like that kind of community spirit.
So, I promised them that I would surely like to win the $600 million so they could get bonuses on the 1 percent given to the store where the winning ticket was sold.
They seemed agreeable.
I plunked down the $10, precisely what my books at the garage sale had earned me. The clerk gave me the ticket with its computer-generated numbers.
I left the store, thinking it would not be long before life would change dramatically.
I wondered if I'd have to move away from America's Most Beautiful Small Town if I won. That would be a problem.
Still, I figured the rewards would far outweigh the nuisance of packing up and moving to Ireland. Heck, I could even fund enough money over there that they could wake up Ned Devine, and he could truly enjoy his lottery earnings.
After visiting my mother, I thought how nice it would be if we could hire a caring doctor, full-time home nursing care and move her back to her home to live out her final days.
The nurses' job description would include monitoring every lucid moment left in our mother's mind and when they popped up, go to the barn, bring a horse to the door, maybe even inside the house and let her pet its soft muzzle.
That would be the ultimate for our mother, and certainly a portion of that $600 million could pull that off.
I also thought about Panhandle Alliance for Education and what portion of my after-taxes several million could go to them and how happy our public school teachers could be with no worries about copy paper or reduction in force. Yup, that would be nice.
Now, I'm not all that altruistic. Of course, my trips would planned for several years in advance, relying on my daughter Annie to be my personal travel agent. Back to New Zealand. Several visits to Ireland and throw in an Australian adventure.
Yup, those would be fun.
Lots of images bouncing around in my mind----homes for both kids, lots more landscaping for the Lovestead-----which brings another image to mind.
That partially mowed lawn. After dreaming and scheming of how that $600 million could be spent, I climbed aboard the lawnmower, turned the key, engaged the blades and the mower died.
Damn.
One more time that stupid belt has come of the rollers. I pulled off the protective helmet for the belt and discovered that the brand new $55 belt had not only come off the rollers for the umpteenth time this spring----it has also stretched to double its length.
Does that mean a $110 belt?
No, that means it was NOT my lucky day, that one more time I'd have to call my repairman and use the back-up, smaller mower until he could come and fix the main machine one more time. $$$$
Later, I learned that someone in Florida had the only winning ticket.
Not a good day for Orb. Not a good day for the Lovestead lawnmower but definitely a good day to scale down some of those grandiose plans.
Woulda been nice, though.
And, the good news is that I broke even----did a lot better than the folks who bet on Orb.
Ten dollars for books went to ten dollars worth of losing lottery tickets and NO bowling ball landing on my head.
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