Our day at the races

The Derby, itself, and getting dressed up was fun. Santa Anita Park charges $6-8 dollars for parking, depending on where you park your car on their huge lot, and about $5 to actually get into the park and watch the horse’s race. We paid $30 each ($90 total). Why, you may be wondering? Well, because the event that we attended, which was situated along the far north side of the park, was for a warm-hearted fundraiser for inner city youth J and I love to give back to inner city, underprivileged youth. However, this felt more like a cold hearted snake © Paula Abdul, than a warm and fuzzy fundraiser, and not because the sun was overcast by gray clouds that were threatening rain.

We were optimistic at first, figuring that, if nothing else, we could walk over to the other side, bet on the ponies and have a good show, which is what we ended up doing after a while.

The guy sitting at the will-call table when we arrived was very friendly, seemed down to earth, and was quite attractive. He kept saying that he was the fundraising-host’s brother, which made me think he must be terribly proud of his big bro. How sweet. And since he was so nice to me, I asked him his name and he told me “Smiley Guy” (alias, of course) I made a mental note to ask the guy (the DJ) who’d invited us about him. After we’d picked up our tickets at will-call from Smiley Guy, we walked through the tunnel and on around to gate 6 where none of the action was, and found our venue. The blonde girl, who worked for the park and took our tickets, was very friendly as well, so I remained in pretty good spirits. That is, until I walked over to an older black lady wearing a ridiculous chef’s hat and said to her “Hi! What are you cooking up over here?” to which she replied dryly “The free food is over there,” pointing to a table full of crap.

I repeated myself, saying “That’s fine. But what are YOU COOKING OVER HERE?”

And she says “Hot links but they cost money.”

What the hell? I was insulted but then I realized that people with no class are everywhere and we just have to deal with them. Anyway, we brought our lunch, so we found a vacant table and began to dig in. None of us wanted what they were offering for free.

About 20 minutes later, Keisha and I decided to go place our bets on a horse with a cool name. I was torn between “Leaving New York”, “King Red”, and “Sensational News”. Keisha put her entire $5 on Sensational News, which made me think “okay, I’ll forgo Leaving New York, and put $2 on King Red, and $3 on Sensational News. Maybe she was on to something. And for most of the race, Sensational News was #2 and gaining on #1. Leaving New York was nowhere to be found! Then, all of a sudden, just as the pack of horses was about to finish the race, Leaving New York came up from the rear and won the whole thing! Seemingly from out of nowhere, and he took the gold cup! I couldn’t believe it. It made me wonder if the races were fixed so that the house always wins. It wouldn’t be a stretch of the imagination. That’s how it’s done in casinos. So, rather than ripping our tickets in half and throwing them on the ground when you leave, as is traditionally done, we kept them as souvenirs. That part of the day, betting on ponies, I truly enjoyed. Some of the people there for just the races, not the fundraiser, were very nice and kept complimenting us on our hats and outfits. Next time we’ll sit among the friendly folks.

There were many fine, traditional derby hats at the fundraiser. Some were more for Easter Sunday at church, which is okay, but most were appropriate for the Kentucky Derby. Everyone put forth a valiant effort to dress nice; however, many fell miserably short. One guy was dressed well from his neck to his waist – his jacket was too long, his pants were too long and they fell in pools over his shoes. A lady in a peach colored, form-fitting halter dress had on inappropriate undergarments – a thong and an ill fitting bra, no body smoother. And boy was her butt dimply. You could see the outline of her thong, which was tacky. And, as it turns out, she was the only nice woman we spoke to the whole day. I complimented a portly lady on her black and white hat and asked her if I could take her picture. She rolled her eyes at me, never said “thank you” for my compliment, and snarled out “I don’t like having my picture taken.” So I asked if I could just take a picture of the back of the hat then, since that’s all I really wanted, anyway. She rolled her bubble eyes some more and turned and placed her order with the bar tender while I snapped the picture in the post below this one. I tried making small talk with the table next to us and they acted as if I wasn't even there. We had obviously intruded on a college reunion soiree with clique’s and in-crowds, and not a fundraiser for children. Not once did the host of the event make his rounds to say hello and thank people for coming out and spending $30 when we could've just spent $5 and gotten better seats. If he did, he missed us. I didn't even know what he looked like until I got home and saw a picture of him taken at the event online . The photographers went around interviewing particular people and snapping their pictures, but none of them were smiling even slightly. It was the surliest fundraiser I’d ever been too, so guess where I kept my wallet? Locked up tightly in my purse! There was no announcement, no Master of Ceremonies explaining where the proceeds of the event would be going (I only knew because I Googled it before we got there), just a horribly off-key guy singing old soulful music with a lot of passion.

I did remember to ask the guy who’d invited us about Smiley Guy, though. I just asked him if he knew whether Smiley Guy had a girlfriend or was seeing someone. He said, and I quote:

“I think so…I mean, I think he USED to have a girlfriend…but everyone used to, huh? Lol. He’s younger than me, though, only 25.”

“That’s fine,” I said. So he told me he’d find out and get back to me, although he thought smiley guy might be moving to San Diego for a new job soon.

I never heard back from the DJ guy about it so I figured it was a no-go. It would have been nice to get an update, though.

We left the event about 30 minutes before it was scheduled to end and on our way out, I heard someone announce that they would be having a best hat contest. So more than 5 hours later, they decided to start the festivities.

The Derby really could have been a true success had they organized things better. The idea had loads of potential and I just might suggest it to the PTA leader at my son’s high school. Ah well. So a portion of my hard earned dollars will continue to support the kids in my own neighborhood who I know quite well. My son throws a get-together about twice a month and yours truly buys the pizza, drinks, burgers, and games that keep them off the streets.

Derby Day photos

photos now, rundown of the event later.

The budget conundrum

I’ve been experiencing a lot of buyers’ remorse lately. For instance, I let a sales woman, the pushy kind that I typically ignore and shun like a pesky fly, convince me that a star made of sticks and draped in Christmas lights was a good buy for $3.95 at Pottery Barn. The price was so good I was tempted to buy two. But considering I didn’t know where I was going to put the one I was purchasing, let alone a second one, I opted to buy just one of them, instead. And then I got home and my son saw it and said “Ha'omnam'? Shalom. When did we become Hebrew?” Which roughly translates to "Really? Peace be with you" in Hebrew) That’s when I realized that the star was marked down from $60 to $3.95 because it looked like the Star of David! So I didn’

t hang it up. And I was sorely disappointed at my foolish waste of damn near $4. The star is currently sitting up against a wall in my living room. It was on clearance so I couldn’t return it.

And take my trip to the races this coming weekend. I’m no longer excited about it. Yeah, at first the thought of getting dressed up and wearing a schnazzy hat sounded like fun, but it’s been raining all week and they are predicting more this weekend. So not only will the grounds be wet and muddy, at the very least, it will be too cold to wear a sundress. I won’t abandon my plans though, they cost me too much. I’ll go just to get out of the house and see a horse race and eat and have that experience…in jeans, a sweater, and an Audrey Hepburn black hat, instead of the cute pink Sinamay hat that I had planned to wear with a strapless sundress.

I’m still going to bet $5 on a pony with a cool name and, hopefully, I’ll win and end my losing streak.

In addition to that, I promised myself that I wouldn’t go berserk spending up my tax refund money. But what did I do? I bought a carpet steamer, two additional hats just in case I changed my mind about the other two hats that I’d bought, two more dresses as if I needed anymore clothes, memory foam mattress pads for me and my son, an iPad, a comforter from Ikea, and a new duvet cover from Target. I am returning the hats, the comforter, and the dresses as soon as possible and shutting down my spending spree. I must train my brain; absolutely NO internet shopping. I have to be extra diligent if I want to reach that tipping point and save up enough money to remodel my kitchen, or do any of the other big ticket things that I often lust and dream about. Ginger, my 11 year old car may be circling the drain, and I said I want my next car to be an Audi (a girl can dream, dammit!) so I have to get my mind right and stop wasting money on worthless crap. I derive great joy from donating the things I no longer want or need to the less fortunate, but I get even greater joy and sleep much better at night when I save money.

I don’t profess to be the world’s best dresser by any means, but I’m starting to wonder if most people ever really put any thought into what they wear. It’s a sad state of affairs out there, people. Yesterday I was in Chipotle waiting in a long line to order a chicken burrito, and I noticed a trend of sloppiness. From the beginning to the end of the line, with the exception of yours truly, of course, nobody was well put together. An overweight girl in a pair of too-tight work slacks with visible panty lines, a woman wearing a bra so small it looked like she had four breasts, another was in work pants that were about two sizes too big, a few people with shoes leaning to the side, lack of coordination/mismatching abound, just a bunch of slobs who looked like they’d all just hit the alarm clock, rolled out of bed, wiped the spit from the corners of their mouths and showed up to work looking like a fashion crime scene. So, if you’re looking at your own get-up right now with a smile turned upside down, here are a few fashion commandments to live by:

- Panty lines should never show, ever. This is why the right pair of boy shorts are a must have in every woman’s lingerie drawer.

- If your shoes are leaning, it’s time to retire them to the trash, or MAYBE Goodwill if they’re not too much of an embarrassment.

- Victoria’s Secret offers FREE (yes, FREE!) bra sizing, so please take advantage of this offer. Your breasts and the community will thank you for it.

- And please don’t buy items simply because they are on sale. If they don’t fit or flatter you, leave them on the rack no matter how much they cost. Even if they’re free! You wouldn’t wear a burlap sack if it was on-sale or free, would you? Some things just shouldn’t be worn, period.

- Color coordination is a nice gesture if you’re living above the poverty line. Otherwise, what’s your excuse? Don’t you care how you look?

Let’s all take the time to show that we care about our appearance. It’s really not that much of a commitment and I guarantee it will lift your spirits. If it helps, sort through your wardrobe the night before so when you roll out of bed in the morning, a decent outfit is ready to be thrown on. When you look good, you feel good and somehow everybody wins. Each one, teach one.

This has been a public service announcement

Quickly...What's going on?

Since this iPad keyboard is too small for me to really type, I'm going to keep this entry brief. Here's where my life has taken me:
- I have a date! He's 35, speaks well, likes to cook, and looks and dresses decent enough. We shall see about the rest of him this weekend when I meet him for coffee.
- My "Stuck in the 80s" friend came over and stayed the night with me last weekend. I've concluded that, like most people, she is tolerable in small doses so she gets to stay.
- I went to the L.A. Weekly Food and Wine event at the Peterson Automotive Museum this past Sunday with my pal, Jenny. She scored us free VIP tickets inside and I sampled everything I could get my hands on. Then spent the rest of my day in bed with a migraine from having eaten so much, so fast, and without any breakfast.
- My 19 year old nephew wants to die. It's the hardest thing I'm hoping to avoid dealing with in my life. His little sister and my mother can't stop crying. I am refusing to think the worst and don't want to cry until all hope is lost. I'm confident that he'll pull through and we'll get through this alright. He is currently under medical care.
- I bought an iPad. So far, it's pretty cool.

Derby Day

I’m going to my first horse derby and I need an extravagant hat. We’re going to take a picnic with us and I am going to place a $5 bet on a horse with a cool name. $5 is my limit as I do not derive any joy from handing over money without the explicit understanding that I am to receive a reward in return. If I place my dollar into a vending machine and the Snickers bar does not descend, I will shake that machine until it does. And if getting tough with the machine still doesn’t present me with my candy bar, I’m dialing the number on the machine and requesting a refund immediately. I may even write a letter if I feel it’s necessary. And I am not above a vending machine boycott. I doubt this behavior would bode well at the horse races, so $5 is all they’ll be getting out of me. A friend of mines placed a $5 bet on a horse she thought was the prettiest, and she won $35. That’s well worth the risk of losing 5 of my hard earned bucks.

I’m excited about my day at the races and can’t wait to find a schnazzy new outfit to wear. But my main objective is the hat. Man, oh man! I am excited about this hat! I’m going to fashion the rest of my outfit (dress, shoes, and accessories) around the hat, which will be the main attraction, the piece de resistance! The bigger, the better since I won’t be wearing any sunscreen and it might be pretty warm out. And I don’t want to squint. I’m close to 40 and the soft skin around my eyes is already threatening to betray me. I can deal with the wayward gray hair here and there, but crow’s feet, bags and wrinkly eyes I cannot. (Lord, help me.)

I’m going to put on my best modern-day southern belle charm and make sure to sashay a little when I walk. This is what a child’s dress-up game feels like for adults. As a little girl, I spent countless hours in my mothers’ high heels, slathering on Cherry scented Chapstick until the red pigment transferred to my lips, pretending to be a sophisticated belle of an imaginary ball. This is my shot to make a long awaited dream come true and I don’t aim to muck it up.

Another perk about Derby Day is the park itself. Santa Anita Park is very well maintained and they’ve kept every bit of old nostalgia that they could. It’s where the film “Seabiscuit” was made and there’s even a Seabiscuit tram tour. I can already hear the thunder of a bunch of thoroughbred horses stampeding down the race track with the San Gabriel Mountains looming in the backdrop overlooking us all. So excited I could squeal!!

Anyway, I’ll be sure to snap lots of pictures and post some here, and I’ll definitely let you know if I win.

Because Prince charming isn’t coming

I tried to read through a book with the same title a couple of years ago but the author seemed to focus more on her personal issues with being a dependent than on discussing independence. Long story short, her dad started H&R Block and she lived a good portion of her adult life in denial, leaving her security in the hands of her husband who squandered all of her money away and then divorced her, leaving her with a heap of debt and two daughters, then he remarried. But if you flip through the book you will find a few pages that offer practical advice that you might want to remember or earmark for future reference. Anyway, I’ve lived my life as independently as possible knowing that there is a very strong possibility that I may never find a Prince, or even a guy decent enough to trust with my well-being. This is only sad if you believe in fairy tales in the first place. Although raised on them myself, I’ve long since realized that I was sold a hefty wolf ticket so I put away such childish thoughts. Prince C. is up there with Santa Claus, in a sense. Why lie to your children, people?

When I first met my ex and we were on date #3, I think, walking back to my house after seeing The Bodyguard at the Baldwin Theater (RIP), he asked me what I was looking for and I told him, with the night stars in my eyes and whimsy in my voice, that I was looking for my prince on a white horse to come and save me. Try not to puke. I gag at the thought now. And he responded, as in love as he claimed to be, although now I just think he was horny, that he was that “guy on the horse! I’m him!” As romantic as I was back then I didn’t for a second believe him but I wanted to. And his willingness to entertain my fancy, as absurd as I knew it was, endeared me to him even more. Shortly thereafter I became pregnant with our son. And after 7 or so years almost all of the whimsy and romance had worn off and my rose tinted glasses lost their tint. So here I am today, somewhat newly single after more than a decade of playing house, and I know precisely where I am, where I’m going, and what I’d like to find along the way. But things aren’t as simple now as they were back when I was 16 or even 25. I think that without my old pink blinders on it’s become much more difficult to find a mate. This is a tad bit disconcerting. In some ways my standards have become a bit more lax; in others they’ve become more stringent. But you can’t see all that by looking at me, can you? When I do get approached, which isn’t as often as it used to be, it’s by the guys who can’t string a sentence together properly, who dress like they just stepped out of the 70s and 80s, or hopped fresh from their mothers’ womb, leaving me quite perplexed. *Le sigh. Having been bred on romance and fairy tales I’m still hopeful that the day will come when I meet my match. It’s not #1 on my list of things to do before I die, but it’s on the list, nevertheless. So in the meantime, I’ll enjoy being newly single, traveling as far as my budget will allow me, making new friends, learning new things, and smelling every gotdamn rose I come across that doesn’t look like it’ll kill me. I am patient.