I'm losing the battle

For some reason, the Kentucky Derby has become a bit of a "thing" for A and me. For the last who-knows-how-many years, we've made mint juleps the first Saturday in May. We have some friends who are native Louisvill-ians, and perhaps that is in their honor that we continue to raise a toast and mumble along to the words of "My Old Kentucky Home". I even drank a mint julep on Derby Day when A was an intern, on call, and I was at home with the kids. It's definitely not a glamour thing for us; there are no hats involved.



This year, Derby Day gave us a sneak attack. A bit too much on other fronts I suppose. A was reading the sports section after lunch when we made the connection. Alas, the bottle of Elijah Craig had nary a sip remaining. Off to Meijer.



The mint comes from a closer locale -- it's a "volunteer" in the backyard. These days it's exerting a bit too much leadership on the front, taking over all available space. I went back in search of a few sprigs and spent the following 45 minutes ripping roots of mint from around the air conditioner. Worse yet, the sharp little spiny weeds are back with a vengeance, and they HURT. Parts of the corner are looking better, until tomorrow when I know they'll have rejuvenated themselves. I'm fearful that my "pull the weeds" philosophy is just not holding up to nature. I think I'm about at the "kill it all and start over" point.



Clearly, it's nose to nose at the wire.



And the derby, well, it had good moments and bad moments. K and I were rooting for "Big Truck" as he was most similar to "Tank", the horse she rode last week. Big Truck finished at the back of the pack.