Next time I'll remember my license so I can continue driving Brad Mosiman up the wall

I'd had so much fun at last year's nearby Kentucky Derby event that I was determined to go again. "You've been awful busy lately," my husband pointed out when I, again, popped this little proposal on him at the last minute. "Are you sure you're up to it?" 

Brad Mosiman prefers a minimum of twenty-four hours of planning and determination to be spontaneous. Picking his ponies on the thirty minute drive prior to Post Time is not his ideal scenario. Add to that his having to deal with a nervous wife who may or may not bolt prior to his placing his bet and you can see why, sometimes, it's just easier to stay home.

We successfully made it to the busy parking lot of which I scurried about like a scared squirrel until Brad wrangled me to the doors. He sighed with resignation when I immediately began stammering out my apology. I pointed to the sign that read "No admittance without ID" and without a word, my husband pivoted so that we could leave. Before we reached the exit though, he pulled me to the side. "Let's at least place our bets," he said.

I hadn't done my research this year so I went with my gut. Rarely does that go well. Tucked into a corner table at a nearby restaurant, I watched my horse rear up and then topple backwards rather than be loaded into the gate. I respected that. I watched, worried to see if my pony and his rider were okay and then laughed as my horse skipped happily back to his stall, rewarded for his bad behavior. I wouldn't be surprised if someone offered him a Dum-Dum pop later. My daddy had told me not to bet on the grays.

 

Would you believe that, after all that, I still won?

An evening out with Brad Mosiman and a good meal is an unbridled victory.