It was a quick day at the track…until the last race: the winning horse stumbled and threw the jockey. Jockey suffered concussion, taken to Eville, horse…well, we know how that ends. I didn’t realize how many horses get put down in the course of a race season. In theory I understand why it has to be done, but emotionally I can’t believe that there’s nothing else they can do. Everybody cares about our equine friends, and they’re expensive animals, so why haven’t we come up with horse ankle replacements for these lovely (occasionally ornery) thoroughbreds? It’s always a little bittersweet to cash a ticket on a dead horse, though I will today when I get to work…

The Casey, jrs. met up with us for that last race and then we caravaned over to Henderson for the Bluegrass Festival. The rain was pretty fierce when we first arrived, so we ate at MajorMunch. By the time we’d chowed, the skies had cleared and we listened to a couple of bands before bedtime. One of them, Pokey LaFarge, was most certainly Not a bluegrass band. Reminiscent of Leon Redbone, I enjoyed them, but I really came for some banjo, fiddle, mandolin—you get it…like Hot Day at the Zoo, who played in the rain, or Henhouse Prowlers…