The Kentucky Derby

The Kentucky Derby and I go way back.  As a young girl, every year that I can remember my dad, Sis and I would bet on our favorite horse--that's right.  My dad gambled with little girls.  We all had to put in twenty five cents.  Had you going for a second, didn't I?
Well, no matter, the point is that every year without fail, I came in last.  Not second to last, not fifth, dead last.  I would never get rich betting on the ponies, believe me.   In my own family, we watched the Derby because one year (a  really really long time ago) DH attended in person so we all watched.  We picked horses but no betting this time.  We just picked and every year, three guesses, my horse came in last.
A few years ago I picked the most beautiful horse I ever saw.  I didn't care if this horse won or not, she was so beautiful, I just loved looking at her.  Her name was Eight Bells.  She ran that race with all her heart.  She was in the front of the pack for the whole race.  She might even win!  Suddenly, just before the finish line, Eight Bells collapsed and died right there.  It was heartbreaking.
So I went back to choosing losers.  Dead last and I could remain the buddies we had always been if choosing a winner meant the death of the poor animal.
This year I chose a horse with pretty good odds.  By the time the horses were in the gate, the odds had improved.  His name is Orb.  By now, you probably have heard of him.  He wore the roses....and he lived.