If I Was A Betting Woman...

The Kentucky Derby is approaching.  I'll admit, I'm not a big follower, but I do get an occasional chuckle out of the names of the horses and the size of the hats the ladies wear.  Today, we were reading the morning paper and saw the name of one of the horses, "Pants on Fire."  Oh boy.  Let me tell you a story, in case you've never heard this one.

When we were first married and living in Sicily, I was cooking a flank steak under the broiler.  I must have had it too close to the heating element or left a little too much fat on it, but whatever the reason, it caught on fire.  Not to worry, it wasn't a huge flaming ball of meat, but a little tiny flame that didn't extinguish when I pulled it out of the oven.  Even though it was a small fire, I still freaked (it was my first kitchen fire) and screamed, "Pan's on fire!  Pan's on fire!"  I stood there holding it, panicking and Doug just calmly strolled into the kitchen, walked over to me and blew it out.  Poof!  All better.  I truly expected to see him running.  His reaction was so unexpected.  I said, "Didn't you hear me yell, 'Pan's on fire!'?"  He said, "Oh, I thought you said, 'Pants on fire'".  Even better to reason to run, in my opinion.  We still laugh about that today, nearly 12 years later.

So, even though I'm not an avid fan of the Derby, I may just have to check it out this year to cheer on my new favorite horse.  "Go, Pants on Fire!"  Good thing I'm not a betting woman, otherwise I might have to put a little money on him too.