Oh the doo-dah day!

We headed down to Emerald Downs for some horse racing action and the running of the 71st Longacres Mile today.

The weather was warm, the crowds were friendly (for the most part), and a good time was had. I've only been out to the track a couple times before, but I've always enjoyed myself, even if my bets were ultimately fruitless.

Today there was no betting — the lines at the mutuel were just too freaking long. I mean, come on! Dang other people existing on my earth. *grumble, mumble*

At any rate, we got to see the finishes wonderfully close and it was still all very exciting. I love seeing the tiny jockeys and the giant horses. That strange size juxtaposition pleases me somehow.

I would get out to the track more than once a year, but 1) it's quite far now and 2) who am I kidding? I would become a compulsive gambler if I was exposed to it any more frequently.

Wait, this isn't about celebrating Seattle's maritime history?

Thursday: Snakes On a Plane. Exactly as planned. It was good to spend time with Morgann and Russ too. They make me happy.

Friday: Dinner at Casa D'Italia. Tasty. There are still leftovers in the fridge. And that port was super tasty too.

Saturday: Coffee and doughnuts from Top Pot in the a.m. Walking the length of Myrtle Edwards Park to check out HempFest with Lucas in the p.m. There were approximately a zillion people there.

One of the most interesting things about HempFest was the place it was held this year. Myrtle Edwards Park is a long, skinny snake of land tucked between the water and industrial buildings just north of downtown Seattle.

It used to be called Elliot Bay Park, but was renamed in 1976 in honor of Myrtle Edwards, a city councilwoman from 1955 to 1969, when her term was cut short by a fatal automobile accident.

Strangely enough, it wasn't the first park to bear her name in Seattle.

Edwards had championed a drive for the city to acquire a former gasification plant to turn into a waterfront park on Lake Union. It was named for her in 1969 after her death. However, her family was not pleased when it became apparent that the park would retain quite a bit of the former gas plant as industrial sculpture and asked that her name be removed from the park in 1972.

It is now known as Gas Works Park.

. . .

The best part of the HempFest website is the FAQ, which includes this gem of a statement: "Hempfest is the worst place to attempt to buy or sell illegal substances of any kind. Please don't do it."

Aw, isn't that cute?


. . .

Haley Joel Osment is eighteen. When did that happen?

It all balances out.

I thought I lost my wallet today when I went to get coffee and discovered that I had no means to trading a swipe of a card for a cup of joe.

I discovered it hours later under the passenger seat of the car, where it must've fallen to after tumbling from my handbag.

So yay for finding my wallet!

Boo-hiss for missing out on morning coffee!

An open letter to the late Mr. Peckinpah:

Dear Mr. Peckinpah,

I'm late to watching a lot of classic cinema, and recently have started going through your oeuvre. I'm enjoying quite a bit of it so far, but I have one question to ask:

Was The Getaway made solely because Ali MacGraw needed somewhere to go and look bewildered for a couple of hours? Because, man, that is one bemused woman.

Also, when Steve McQueen punched Sally Struthers, I found it very satisfying, so thanks for that much, at least.

Sincerely,
Mary Ann Brunson

P.S. Is the superfake blood part of some kind of artistic dealy I don't understand, or were special effects just that bad in the 70's?