Wrong Horse = Good Luck
I sense an upswing.
Last night at Lone Star Park, as we watched the horses parade in their little circle, the pink horse turned and looked at me. I decided to put all the cash in my possession -- three dollars -- on the pink horse. We ran to the counter to place our bets before the cut-off, but I couldn't remember what number Pink was. I asked my friend Barry and he said, "Number 7." I turned to the nice man waiting to take my money and put all three dollars on Number 7 to place. I pulled my white ticket, stepped back and looked at the TV screen, and saw that Number 7 was orange. Pink was 8. Wrong horse. Wrong horse that had 18/1 odds.
We found our way back to the side of the track to watch the massive, beautiful beasts fly around the track. As they round the final corner, I realize: Number 7 -- Orange -- is up at the front. Number 7 pulls away from the pack and finishes a nose ahead of whatever horse is behind him. Could have been #8. But my love is now for #7. I win.
Had I bet for him to actually win -- instead of simply place -- I would have won more, but I was ecstatically happy with the $22.50 I walked away with from the wrong horse. A sign of good luck to come.
This morning I spent two hours at the Doc-in-the-Box (which could hardly be considered lucky), except that the doctor gave me candy -- and his cell phone number & email address. Not sure that's quite ethical, but, hey. I think he was attracted to my strong breath sounds and low blood pressure.
The moral of the story: Sometimes you have to bet on the wrong horse to win.
Actually, there's no moral of the story but I like the way that sounds.
(Photos to follow...)
Last night at Lone Star Park, as we watched the horses parade in their little circle, the pink horse turned and looked at me. I decided to put all the cash in my possession -- three dollars -- on the pink horse. We ran to the counter to place our bets before the cut-off, but I couldn't remember what number Pink was. I asked my friend Barry and he said, "Number 7." I turned to the nice man waiting to take my money and put all three dollars on Number 7 to place. I pulled my white ticket, stepped back and looked at the TV screen, and saw that Number 7 was orange. Pink was 8. Wrong horse. Wrong horse that had 18/1 odds.
We found our way back to the side of the track to watch the massive, beautiful beasts fly around the track. As they round the final corner, I realize: Number 7 -- Orange -- is up at the front. Number 7 pulls away from the pack and finishes a nose ahead of whatever horse is behind him. Could have been #8. But my love is now for #7. I win.
Had I bet for him to actually win -- instead of simply place -- I would have won more, but I was ecstatically happy with the $22.50 I walked away with from the wrong horse. A sign of good luck to come.
This morning I spent two hours at the Doc-in-the-Box (which could hardly be considered lucky), except that the doctor gave me candy -- and his cell phone number & email address. Not sure that's quite ethical, but, hey. I think he was attracted to my strong breath sounds and low blood pressure.
The moral of the story: Sometimes you have to bet on the wrong horse to win.
Actually, there's no moral of the story but I like the way that sounds.
(Photos to follow...)
posted by pamela at 5:43 PM
1 Comments:
Perchance. Per chance. ;)
Sometimes you have to bet on the wrong horse enough times to finally pick the right one, even if it's by accident.
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