Crying, From Laughing

In my family we always pick a Kentucky Derby horse for the fun of it. Sometimes we'll even bet 10 cents.
Back in 1981, I was still a child, the first time we did it (spurred on, I think, by my brother's enthusiasm for the Black Stallion book series.)
That was the only time I've picked a winner. It has been 27 years since then. Despite my early success, time has shown that you can't pick a horse by its name alone.

Back to the present time.

I don't think dead horses are funny. I don't think broken legs are funny. Two broken legs on one dead horse, is, in fact, a miserable thing to contemplate.

I literally feel ill when I hear of a horse euthanized before its time due to two broken forelegs. Generally, I try not to think about it for long, because it makes me queasy. I have empathy and sympathy for the animal, as well as the people that owned and cared for the animal.

What is mildly funny is when a family-member "bets" on that horse in the Kentucky Derby.

And what strikes me as hugely funny, is when one issues a polite request to that same family member to never "bet" on onesself, should one happen to ever be in a race of any sort.

To make such a request suggests a deep-rooted sense of superstition. Those who know me, know I have no such sense in actuality. But I do believe, (perhaps erroneously) that it makes for an hysterical joke.

That is why, in the picture above, you will notice a gleam on my lower eyelids. By myself, in my office at 7 on a Sunday morning, I laughed until I cried after sending just such a request to my sister-in-law, who has never been anything but gracious to me.