I've long since made Carolina my home. I love everything about it, and I definitely have put down roots. And yet...there's a certain time of year when I can feel the excitement across two state lines, and I feel a little home sick for my Kentucky. My Louisville. And that time is now.
The Derby is Saturday. The Oaks is tomorrow. The traditions have been there seemingly forever. The sundresses, the big hats, the mint juleps, the pie, the way we say the word "pie", the twin spires, and of course the roses, the horses and the jockeys. I miss it. I miss it now.
Except the Mint Julep. I really only miss the idea of the Mint Julep, and not the drink itself. I'm going to admit something to you. I'm Louisville born and raised, and I despise Bourbon. Did you just hear that collective gasp from the Bluegrass State? I know. Crazy, right? But I do. Not my thing. It burns everything it touches from the second it hits my lips, down the pipe and into my gut. And it continues to burn for a long while after. The taste leaves my face contorted and my right eye twitching for a good 2 minutes, which in case you're wondering, is a LOOONNNG time to have your face contorted and your right eye twitching.
So when I celebrate from afar this weekend, and I totally will be because I just have to, I'll skip the classic Derby drink. I WILL, however, be donning a sundress and a big hat (Ella will, too, thanks to the how-to on my home page), I'll be baking a pie-- THE pie, and I will likely have hot browns ready for my crew.
And in the meantime, I'll try not to play this song, like, a thousand times--I'll try, but I'm not making any promises. And I'll try not to cry while I sing along loudly and poorly, although I know in the end it will get me. It always does.
So when I celebrate from afar this weekend, and I totally will be because I just have to, I'll skip the classic Derby drink. I WILL, however, be donning a sundress and a big hat (Ella will, too, thanks to the how-to on my home page), I'll be baking a pie-- THE pie, and I will likely have hot browns ready for my crew.
And in the meantime, I'll try not to play this song, like, a thousand times--I'll try, but I'm not making any promises. And I'll try not to cry while I sing along loudly and poorly, although I know in the end it will get me. It always does.
Seriously, I've already played this song about 5 times. And although I can feel the pang, I've been able to keep the powerful emotion brought on by nostalgia at bay. I'll save the freak show for my kids most likely. That's usually how these things go. I can see it clearly, can't you? Me swaying in my sundress, belting out the lyrics through waves of choked emotion, while they stare on...not comprehending what exactly is happening, or why their mother is so sad (although they're pretty sure it has something to do with roses)... standing there in stunned silence, waiting for it to be over so they can eat their pie. *Smile.Sniff.Sigh.*
You can learn more about the Derby here.
You can learn more about the Derby here.