Triple Crown Dreams

I enjoy horse racing. I try not to think about how inhumane the sport of kings can be to race horses. But in my defense, I am a horse racing fan for all of about 3 hours a year. I love to watch the Triple Crown Races, and for the past ten years I've been anxious for a horse to win the Triple Crown. I was two when Affirmed won in 1978, so I obviously wasn't too excited about it then. And from the way the Preakness went today, I'm going to have to wait at least another year.

The Kentucky Derby is my favorite race, and watching it live is on my bucket list. Whitewashed Churchill Downs looks like a paradise with its stately spires, brick and green paddock area, and spring flowers blooming all over. I want to be there. I must be specific, though; I do not want to watch from the infield. For just one day, I want to live like the people at whom I roll my eyes while watching the human- (and horse-) interest stories build before the big race. What must it be like to spend millions of dollars on a horse and watch it race to the finish on one of the country's most iconic tracks? What's it like to wear those hats while drinking mint juleps all afternoon? What's it like to be called Muffy and to call your father Daddy when you're 40? I want to know. (Well, maybe not the last one.)

Someday. Someday I'll get there. In the meantime, do you want to know what I did the day of this year's Kentucky Derby? I took the kids over to downtown Chandler for a little racing. It was the city's annual Cinco de Mayo festival and the three of us enjoyed a little less classy kind of racing.

That's right. We watched the chihuahua races. You'd be surprised how excited people get about these races. And there are some serious chihuahua fans out there. Check out the ink on the older woman sitting next to me.

And that's not just any chihuahua. It's her beloved dog who is "very prissy." So much so, that the woman didn't want to bring her to the event because of all the "ugly dog diseases" she might catch. She even showed me photos of her angel, who I must say looks like every other blonde chihuahua I've ever seen. Whatever. At least she's taking care of her dog and not abusing her.

Yes, this was definitely no Kentucky Derby. Instead of big hats, there were impossibly short shorts and chihuahua in outfits of all kinds. Uh-huh. High class. I long for the day I spend the first Saturday of May in Louisville.