This afternoon, while braving the effects of what amounts to a Nor'easter in order to stroll a little Eastern NC town that I would not mind living and practicing in, I stopped dead in my tracks to see a bronze figure of Secretariat in an art-shop window.
Hoping against hope, I walked into the store and I found her - not in bronze, but immortalized in glicee/giclee (pick your spelling) print - the greatest racehorse that ever ran (my humble opinion) - the incomparable Ruffian.
My opinion may be somewhat jaded by the fact that Ruffian was a girl.
Needless to say, the print is mine now.
I will be walking with ghosts tonight. The weather is appropriate.
Update: Two words: "Mochachino" Fudge.
Late Evening Update: Ghosts are lucky they don't feel their feet.
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