THE VILLAGE SMITHY ~ "Time Travel Is A Healer, Right?" - Epic*sode 3 ~ By Absolutely*Kate ... #fridayflash

THE VILLAGE SMITHY

 

~ By Absolutely*Kate  

 

Epic*sode 3 ~ "Time Travel Is A Healer, Right?"

Click here for The Beginning Epic*sode

Click here for Epic*sode 2 ~ "Need A Hoof Nipper?"

It hurt. Hitting the end always does. Not the brittle hard-tack stuff -- but the inside going dredged out empty, soft-squished, a million miles away from where empathy can repaint affection over pain stains on deck.

 

The Saturday night that should've been their Saturday night, celebrating of all things, out of all times, her first Grammy as a songwriter lauded and applauded for how words rivered hearts to supple soothin' . . . that night, that night of all nights out of all times, Liza lunged into the back of the tall skinny closet for the black leather duffel to hurriedly shove in what could carry wasted trust to wherever away was going to be. That Saturday night of stomped out hoopla was a night no longer made for clear-thinkings or sweet remembrances. 
 
Used to be, with team-them, when one cried, the other tasted salt. Used to be leaning back, spooning into one the other's curvature in the kitchen between choppin' up and stirrin' sizzle at the old woodstove --  discovering the whole rest of the world plus a few extra planets there . . . and wanting to linger the orbit, to stay, to feel, to sense, to know -- way past how chronos had its time trials. When sensations crash and coil though, and no one tells the music not to play Fly Me to the Moon or Come Rain or Come Shine anymore, things jolt way past discombobulated. Liza didn't stop to turn the music off though. One can never really turn the music off. Eva Cassidy drifted her signature rift of Autumn Leaves as June was becoming summer and serenaded departure with "When I miss you most of all . . . "
 
Liza hated ignominious irony even more than how hurt could rot and defile something fine, noble, true and dignified. Well it was. And it had its blue skies, nuttin' but blue skies run. Then, out of the unexpected azure, it was just done. You can only give without measure so long. So Liza, and the jaggedy scrape leaving the unbecoming marks on her soul, shut soft as regrets the front door, letting the squeaky screen swing tight as eyes yet pressed 'gainst tears which burned. And she said, into the night, into the lush gardens tended on sun-dappled days to dig her perennial love, into overcoming what bleakness snaked up to be . . . Liza said, "So long".
 
It was a raspy, her whisper, 
but it shuddered the night.
 
Her left shoulder hefted the black duffel, leanin' to the heavy side with all that fit that could take her to where away would be. She'd return in the morn when he'd gone where routines roused him to claim what lingered, what mattered most of all, all the way back behind silk scarves and linen dresses in the tall skinny closet. It was all there, tucked in her funny mother's weathered tan valise. It traveled well too. It had to. Under maroon silk lining, secrets were pressed into security. 
 

~ ~ ~

This time she'd traveled the Essex steam train one hundred years.  To where the village smithy pondered her now. To a town not without pity . . . but laden with plenty of conjecture.
 
The bodacious blacksmith glistened his brawny firmaments, leaned his planishing hammer on his pummeled anvil and conjectured now, "Miss? You asked for a hoof nipper. Have you a steed in need?" 

"Gotta lotta need Smithy. Higher than the sky, deeper than the ocean."
 
"Higher than the sky?"

Liza rallied senses to sensibilities, sizing up massive male flesh towering testosterone under the spreading chestnut tree. This one appeared to be not all that adversarial despite the unseen. Insights intact, Liza left the leaving of her last night in Virginia for more private moments mulling. Quick on the uptake, her response raced his open retendre, "Why certainly kind sir. Higher Than The Sky, in the 8th at Belmont, this coming Saturday. Surely you can aid a lady in distress?" Liza's eyes whooped up the Virginia reel. Old habits travel still.
 
The village smithy saw past batting eyelashes and fine filly form. The village smithy gazed through brazen bravado. The village smithy gleaned the skirt holding stubborn her stance had more than a stallion's win-place-show muddling her mind. 
 
Across the street, ambling along the west side of the village green, angling a better gander at the newcomer on the scene, the butcher and the baker's effusive musings were joined by the cocky candlestick maker. Oddly, one of them swore they spotted an old flame.

The town band practicing in the gazebo under Jim Casey's steady conductor's wand? Well, they turned a flat sharp and missed a stanza or two, what with clarinets and oboes and tubas and saxophones craning over black metal wobbly music stands . . . but all in all, Casey's band still played on.


And the village smithy's eyes danced . . . 
with those of the strawberry blonde.

© 2011 ~ Author Absolutely*Kate

 in a small-town large state of mind 

Village Smithy photo ala Wolfrage

"Street Cries Prohibited" ala Andy Rob
Essex Steam Train ridden by Absolutely*Kate

TO RACE AHEAD

NEXT WEEKEND

OFF TRACK THE VILLAGE GREEN

WHERE THE STARTING GATE

TAKES ON NEW SPEED

AT THE BIJOU is AT THE RACES!

Hey Everybody!

HARRY AND I HAVE GONE TO THE RACES ~

THE BELMONT

Har was feeling a might generous so there's a BenFranklin duct-taped to the back of each of your seats. We both wish you to bet it wisely and above all HAVE FUN!  Carrie and Jeanette are in charge AT THE BIJOU while we're gone and we can only hope The Phantom keeps an eye on those two dames. No tellin' what Sugar's CandyLand will look like or what cartoons or feature films they'll choose to run.

THE PRINTS AND THE POPPER

shall return

with real snap
and crackle

to its popping action

next weekend!

Weekend Swell!

Here's the horses runnin'

and your imaginary $100 bucks.

Have FUN!

~ Absolutely*Kate

and Horsey Harry

Horse	Jockey	Weight	Morning Line
	Dave in Dixie	Calvin Borel	126	20-1
	Spangled Star	Garrett Gomez	126	30-1
	Uptowncharlybrown	Rajiv Maragh	126	10-1
	Make Music for Me	Joel Rosario	126	10-1
	Fly Down	John Velazquez	126	9-2
	Ice Box	Jose Lezcano	126	3-1
	Drosselmeyer	Mike Smith	126	12-1
	Game On Dude	Martin Garcia	126	10-1
	Stately Victor	Alan Garcia	126	15-1
	Stay Put	Jamie Theriot	126	20-1
	First Dude	R. Dominguez	126	7-2
	Interactif	Javier Castellano	126	12-1

ANNNNNNNNNND THEY'RE OFFFFFFFFF ~ PIMLICO, PREAKNESS & BLACK EYED SUSANS

ANNNNNND THEY'RE OFFFFFFFF

Pimlico, Preakness & Black Eyed Susans

~ Shared by Absolutely*Kate and

Horsin' Around Harry B Sanderford

( How could it be otherwise? )

Look! I left a comment in an ESPN blogsite

for a writer roaming around Pimlico today:

Damn! You sure ride a story well ... track's your main glory, Mr Mayne.

~ Absolutely*Kate from Connecticut

~ who was just getting ready to post a posting at my AT THE BIJOU site  ... and up from the paddocks, a writing partner who plays the ponies like nobody plays the ponies sent me this article. I'm linkin' in to your thinkin' and lettin' folks know to pick up an easy buck 'round where you walk your talk. And a Lukas horse? I never bet against one. Then again, I believe in believers.

Look! Here's what Harry shared 'bout what that ESPN writer roaming around Pimlico today had to say . . . that inspired me to jump in; get grinnnn:

A mind of my own

Sharing the Kenny Mayne Blog ~ 

HorseRacing ~ ESPN, down the road from me,

'nuff said:

I arrived at Pimlico Thursday afternoon. The place still needs a fresh coat of paint. No one listens to me. Plus the media elevator was broken. As I climbed four flights of stairs I wondered if we'd have to airlift Hank Goldberg onto the roof. He's weighed down by that much money. 

I can recommend to you Basil's Lamb Chop House off the Jersey Turnpike. I know this because I followed my friend Thomas Kintner's advice to drive from Hartford to Baltimore rather than take the Southwest shuttle. Nothing against Southwest … even if in group E, facing backward. The theory is that the drive down I-95 takes more or less the same amount of time as everything that goes into a one-hour flight. Thomas Kintner is an idiot. And so am I for ever taking the advice of others when contemplating key horse racing decisions.

Having talked my way past security without any credentials, I obtained my Preakness credentials which would allow me full run of the place. The first place I needed to go was the stand where they sell the Daily Racing Form. That's going to go down as a $7 expense. I could have cut it to $6 if I hadn't been so egotistical. Not far from the stand where they were selling Daily Racing Forms, a dollar bill sat on the floor. Pretty clean-looking bill for having been washed at Pimlico. I walked past the dollar but then decided to conduct a social experiment. I decided to time how long it would take for someone else to pick it up. It took five seconds. My first thought was how did it take so long? Had it been a hundred, there might not have been any social experimentation going on. But at a dollar, I had to uphold what's left of my reputation. What did we as a society learn from this experiment? We learned that some guy saw a dollar bill and decided to pick it up. He followed his instincts. He didn't worry about what others thought. That's how I went down the wrong path two weeks ago at Churchill Downs. 

In the end I would have been wrong with my selection. But I would have been wrong my way. I liked D. Wayne Lukas' horse Dublin to act as my key horse underneath some exotic wagering. Dublin hadn't won in some time but he had proved himself a consistent runner to at least hit the board, to keep running to the wire. I stopped by the Lukas barn at Churchill and he confirmed my theory. He told me the post (17) wouldn't matter nor would the weather. Dublin would fire on Derby day. Everyone else I spoke with about Dublin told me that D. Wayne Lukas had lied to me. I heard everything from "he's sore" to "he ought to be scratched." For a couple days I wrestled with the notion that D. Wayne had played me. I started to believe his horse was a deadbeat and D. Wayne had entered him just to be a part of the event. It seemed D. Wayne had seen a dollar bill on the floor and picked it up. The day before the race I ran into Lukas in the Churchill paddock. I called him out on it. "D. Wayne," I said, "you told me Dublin is doing great and ought to run big, but everyone else I talk with tells me the horse looks terrible in the mornings and is clearly off." D. Wayne looked upset. "The horse is fine," he said. "You tell those people to go ahead and bet on other horses." Turns out most of them did. Turns out I did, too. But although his horse didn't hit the board, Lukas was proved right and the others were proved wrong. Dublin finished a respectable seventh in the slop and now, because of Bob Baffert's decision to bench his Lookin At Lucky rider, Lukas has picked up Garrett Gomez. And now Gomez says he likes what he feels under him. I'm staying away from those people who would tell me Gomez is lying this week. 

But just to make sense of it, I sought out Lukas at the Preakness Stakes barn this morning. He was talking with Baffert. I think they were talking about "Dancing with the Stars." I guess after so many years in the horse game they've probably said all there is to say about horses. I asked Lukas if he remembered our conversation in the paddock at Churchill and he did. "So it looks like you were right and the others were wrong," I said. He looked proud. But then he confused me some more. "What do you expect a trainer to say after a bad work? 'My horse is doing poorly and probably won't run well in the race?'" I interjected that "even Gomez is quoted as saying he likes what he feels." It was at that point Baffert jumped in and said, "What's he gonna say? 'The horse is terrible and I don't want the ride?'" 

They both laughed and then we talked some more about "Dancing with the Stars." 

I started to leave but had to turn back. "Dublin is fine, right?" 

D. Wayne smiled and said, "he's doing great." 

That's what I was looking for, one sincere answer. He really sounded like he believed what he was saying. 

As I walked out of the barn area, one security guard called out to another, "What are you up to?" "Just trying to make a dollar," the other guard said. Tell me about it. 

I headed back to the press room. The Otis Elevator guys appeared as confident as D. Wayne. The stairway didn't look so bad. But like D. Wayne they pulled me in with their charm. I reasoned that I came to this track to gamble. I might as well show some faith in those who are telling me good stories. "It's doing better than yesterday," the Otis Elevator guy said. I don't ask much from my trainers or my Otis Elevator guys. Just say something positive, please. The elevator made it all the way to the fourth floor. So what if they had to pull the door open with their hands to allow me out? I'm here, right? Believing in what and who I want to.

Kenny Mayne  known for his offbeat style, dry humor and unique sayings -- has served a variety of roles in more than 10 years with ESPN. He currently provides features to SportsCenter and "The Mayne Event" segments to Sunday NFL Countdown. 

Now that we've gotcha in the mood ~

STEP UP TO THE WINDOW FOLKS

PLACE YOUR $100 BETS

in any combo of WIN - PLACE - SHOW

(The $ is imaginary - The thrill's for real)

"THE PRINTS AND THE POPPER", our murder mystery matinee 

returns post-Preakness ... to start your SUNDAY off  in scary style!

See you then . . . but first, something delectable from our sweet friend ~

  

*C*L*I*N*K*

FROM THE SUGAR*SHACK

Pimlico's Black-Eyed Susan Drink

makes two 12oz glasses

Ingredients:

1oz Vodka
1oz Mount Gay Eclipse Rum
1/2 oz Cointreau
6 oz Orange Juice
3 oz Pineapple Juice

Combine ingredients, stir, and pour over crushed ice. 

Garnish with a pineapple, orange slice, and cherry brochette.

SUGAR SAYS: "That cherry brochette takes a true Marylander

to construct it ... for just the right touch."

 

* SPORTS OF KINGS * ~ A Daily*Double from Absolutely*Kate and Horsey Harry of Harbinger*33

* SPORTS OF KINGS * 

~ A Daily*Double from

Absolutely*Kate and Horsey Harry

Jim Dandee opened the Tampa Bay Downs Daily Racing Form with customary crackle to jaded eye, as his gaze glazed over the chess set his kid had made him for Christmas, plasticine royal blue and hunter's green of deeper hue, sitting on the side table ~ the king somehow toppled, clearly in his view. It was a sign he knew, what sort would work itself out soon enough he thought, righting the fallen ruler before returning his attention to the form . . . not all clues would just present themselves.

 
 Yes, there it was ~ "Clueless" was running in the sixth and with what Monday's meteorologist Mandi precipitationally predicted, a muddy track it could be -- gul darn it, his majesty's crown was again down; hadn't he just - - - whoa it up there Nellie! A photo-finish flashbulb popped enlightening like and Jim Dandee pulled up mid-stretch to restoring royalty to his horizontal highness, poked a nubby finger under the running line and followed it out to see that Clueless was out of monster mudder Dam "Topple Two Times" and in the irons today was none other than Elvis (the king, baby) Trujillo!

 
 Thoroughly bred to bet a hunch, Jim Dandee was no pawn of fate come lately, and odds on, how could he be rooked with the king of jocks strapped on Clueless ~ hell, heaven can wait, for when Elvis took off from the gate 35 wins straight from his native Panama, then 55 from Mexico City set the pace for the race of three graded stakes titles from South Florida to Churchill Downs -- kerplunk -- the royal chess piece took another clunk -- unconfused, "Why that's a triple crowner," Jim mused.
 
 Third times a charm and at the finish-line rail Jim Dandee patted the plastic talisman and slips of paper in the pocket of his lucky blue-green shirt feeling the first drops of anticipation, perspiration and Meteorologist Mandi's predicted precipitation as E.T. gave Clueless the reins leading into the stretch in the rain and all the king's horses stared idly at the backs of all the kings men, no longer subject to their round-heeled ruler's reign. 

(c) 2009 ~ Authors Absolutely*Kate and Harry B Sanderford

Absolutely*Kate and Harry B Cool Sanderford wrote this one up in a challenge-each-other-the-more duet of double entendrees. They "got game". The sighted insight. They went ... as always ... for the Win in place to show.

~ The Phantom

AT THE BIJOU

in the know

 

inviting you back

on Double*Feature Thursday

for our next great show!