Cinco de Derby Day

Being descended (recently) from Louisvilleans, my husband has an abiding love of bourbon and an inborn obligation to host a party on the first Saturday of every May.  We celebrated the run for the roses AND Cinco de Mayo on this fortunate weekend, when the two celebrations collided in a julepped, corona’d, and sombrero-chapeau-ed fiesta, with gambling thrown in for good measure.  See pictures:

Exhibit A – The white fluffy dog with the glowing pink neckwear is my niece, Koa.  It was her fourth birthday.  Much spoiling ensued.

Exhibit B – please note the lovely Margaret’s amazing hat – a flaming red sombrero with a garland of red (plastic) roses and resident parrot, which weighed a fair amount and was hand-stitched by Mags in honor of the star-crossed occasion.  Sometimes I marvel at my luck to have such creative and witty friends.

Exhibit C – a house full of people.  We have a small house – 3 bedrooms and 2 baths plus on diningkitchenliving area, all squeezed into 900 tiny square feet.  These cramped quarters are not an ideal location for a party, but our fabulous backyard was primed and ready.  The large porch swing was dragged out into the yard, colorful hammock strung up, outdoor chairs set about, piles of firewood stacked by the chiminea ready to become a picturesque if not particularly hot fire.  Alas, we were rained out of our gorgeous outdoor living space.  The hammock was rolled up, swing dragged back under the eaves, and sodden wood left to drip, all accompanied by curses and black looks at the sky.

Exhibit D – see the boys playing horseshoes in the backyard?  I had presumed the plans to build the pits for our party had been abandoned, given the soggy weekend weather.  However, not to be deterred by a spot of hurricane-like conditions, my determined/stubborn/crazy husband trekked off to the hardware store and purchased several bags of sand, then darted out into the yard between rainbursts to fill the shallow pits that he’d dug out of the mud.   In appreciation for his efforts some more hardy friends gamely tossed a few during breaks in the rain.

Exhibit E – The Professor and his sister playing games with the sausage from a midnight pizza.  Those crazy kids.

Exhibit F – The cousins have a sniff and scratch on Sunday morning.  Bella, weary from 48 solid waking hours of monitoring every tail wag and blink of Koa’s eye, made a daring escape out the back screen door shortly after this photo was taken and could not be found for 4 hours.  We called and cajoled, we shook the Pounce, we hid the dog in the bathroom, but Bella did not appear.  Just as Erin and Koa were packing up to leave, and I was preparing to make Missing Cat posters, the dirtiest, most disgusting excuse of a feline appeared from under our porch, where I presume she had spent the last four hours sleeping soundly, ignoring my calls and basking in the absence of a certain excitable American Eskimo spitz.

It’s late on Sunday afternoon now.  Having imbibed many a julep and Corona yesterday, and slept fitfully overnight, I myself have spent the bulk of the day reading and snoozing on the couch, while my husband grades 40 final exams.  My nap has been pleasantly interrupted by forehead smooches from said husband, on his way out the door to take a break from grading and prepare for the International Horseshoe Throwing championships, for which he is apparently training.  The Braves won their game.  The cat has tucked her nose under her back feet and is sound asleep on our bed.  I’ve been grazing on leftover party food all day, and am comfortably rested and full.  Another fantastic Sunday draws to a sleepy and happily domestic close.