My final article about our trip to Kentucky. We were on the road for about 10 hours each way, which gave me lots of time to take some pictures of the sights. I took lots but am only showing you the best or most interesting.

We had wonderful weather for our travels both to and from Kentucky, Which made our Vinemeet trip even better!

It is 4 AM on June 24^th as the last of the luggage is loaded into my Pikamobile (The ‘Mo, for short). I am headed off on a solo drive to Louisville, KY, for a Vinemeet. My GPS, Halle, is turned on and is giving me directions in her soft robotic voice. I follow, blindly, because I have never been to Kentucky. I trust Halle and hope for the best.

Dawn arrives and soon I am in West Virginia. What little I can get on the radio is off-putting: storms are supposed to be happening all around me. There is no rain, however. Then I look up: off in the distance I see what looks exactly like all the photos I’ve ever seen of tornadoes. Silently I pray that it will be gone before I get there.

I drive for a long time with no radio on… there is no reception in the mountains of West Virginia, although now and then I get a staticky station for a few minutes. Suddenly, clear as a bell, I hear, “Country roads, take me home…” As that song ended, I saw the sign, “Welcome to Kentucky.”

So. This is what Kentucky looks like. The farther I go, the more beautiful it becomes… farms with whitewashed fences, the greenest grass on earth… and on and on and on I drive.

Fuel goes below half a tank, my usual signal for a fuel stop, but I see the sign for Louisville and realize I can make it without another stop. Halle gives me her directions, and next thing I know I’m pulling up at the Wingate Hotel. It is about 3 PM.

My first thought was to check in and haul my luggage to my room, but I couldn’t wait… I checked in, and then went straight to the Vinemeet room, where I saw Dowser and Augur Well at the greeting table. Many hugs and introductions later, I paused to look at the meeting room, and it was simply overwhelming! Dinner table set with elaborate centerpieces – horses and jockeys – door-prize table with some of the most elaborate-looking prizes I ever saw – game tables with little horse-racing games – and food. A ton of food! And drink…

I excused myself to go haul my luggage up, and Augur Well offered to assist. I accepted, because my luggage was heavy, and I was tired. So we unload the ‘Mo, and Augur Well pulls my luggage along to the elevator and up one floor. Then he shows me how to use the key-card.

The room is much nicer than I expected! But, in a hurry to get back to the party, we parked the bags and went back downstairs.

Viners trickled in, and meeting and greeting continued unabated for some time. At some point I remembered my camera and went upstairs to retrieve it. Returning to the meeting room, I began taking pictures, willy-nilly… a photographer I am not, but I snapped what I felt needed preserving.

Dinner was called, so we all lined up at the banquet trying to figure out how to eat so much excellent food! Most of it was cooked by Dowser, who makes most restaurants look really shabby by comparison. We all took our seats and chowed down. For me, this was the first real food I’d had since the day before! I ate as much as I could before I just couldn’t eat any more. Then I drank tea, water, or soda the remainder of the evening.

There was a setup at the back for making Derby hats… and I stopped by to see what was involved. It looked like Dowser’s son, Peep, was a busy little guy making hats for those who wanted him to make them. I saw his handiwork and realized he was doing a much better job of it than I ever could, so I handed him my hat, picked out the decorations, and let him decide what to do with it all. I went back to schmoozing… and, finally, my hat was finished and Peep had outdone himself on it! From then on, that hat and I were inseparable (until the Sunday cruise, anyway).

Later, the drawings took place for the door prizes, and the first time my number was called I picked a horse-racing game and the horse and jockey like those on the dining table. I collect model horses, so this was the ideal prize for me. I wasn’t prepared for there to be a second go-round, but numbers were going to keep getting drawn until everything was gone. My number came up again, so I picked a fully stocked picnic basket. It was beautiful! And that was more than enough for me… it wasn’t much later that I had to head to my room. It was 11:30PM and I hadn’t even unpacked yet!

Saturday, 25 June: I was up and showered before the wake-up call at 4 AM. I’d promised Augur Well to meet him for breakfast at 6 AM downstairs, and I was downstairs before the hotel had even begun putting out the food. Augur Well appeared, and we had a delightful chat until we had to start prepping for the ride to Churchill Downs. I had asked Augur well if I could ride there with him in his Jeep, Bella, and he graciously said I could. We caravanned to the track. We arrived a bit later than we’d planned, but still got to see a lot of the Derby Museum, and we got to take the tour of the backlot and infield. We learned that on Derby Day, when the infield is crammed full of partiers, and someone gets too rowdy, there are “jails” along the backlot for the rowdies to be locked up in, and those “jails” include betting windows! I think I kinda like that kind of a “jail!”

Soon it was time to be escorted to our table on “Millionaire’s Row.” We had level 6, table 44. So, up we went, were given a “badge” to stick on our shirts that read, “M6,” and were told where our table was.

It wasn’t long before the banquet was served… some of the best food I have ever had, anywhere. I filled my plate until it wouldn’t hold any more! Soon, we were all perusing the racing form to consider how to bet. I chose two races: #5, Horse #9, “Tommy’s Peanut,” and #11, Horse #6, “Starkey.” From then on, we were up and down all over the place: the Millionaire’s Row balcony, the paddock, the ground-floor at the rail… once in awhile we stayed at the table and watched the race on the monitors that were everywhere… and then along came race #7 and I read all the stats very carefully and had a hunch: bet WPS (Win, Place, & Show) on #3, “Simmstown.” That was $6.00 – I had lost in race #5; now I could recoup. For this one, I wanted to be at track-level, so we ran down and waited… soon, they were off! My horse got the lead, and I screamed and yelled and jumped up and down and beat the heck out of my racing form against the rail as my horse won handily, being first across the finish line! Now, when I’d bet on him, the odds were 9-2; I don’t know what they were at the start of the race, but when I cashed in my ticket I collected $28.40… not a bad return in $6.00, especially since my horse flopped in the 11^th race. For the day, I had bet a total of $18 and had won a total of $28.40 – a profit of $10.40! I was happy!

Now, all day long, when the bugle blew to start the race, there would be a “last call” to the betting window and beneath that, on the monitor, it would say “Two Points.” No one knew what it meant by “two points.” Well, if any of us had bothered to read the Churchill Downs Brochure, they’d have learned that there is a free club called the “Twin Spires Club.” Per the brochure: “Membership in our free Twin Spires Club allows you to accumulate points on wagers you place at Churchill Downs…”

So, now we all know!

We had one heck of a fun day at the track… everyone seemed to have won at least one race; we all enjoyed each other’s companionship, and I kept getting compliments on my hat from complete strangers! After the eleventh race, we filed out, returned to our vehicles, and drove back to the hotel.

Later that evening, we went to dinner at the Kingfish Restaurant on the Ohio River… and I regret not taking any photos there. Rottlady did have some, so you can look at her articles for some great pics! I will say that the food was fantastic, if a bit too much. I couldn’t finish all of mine. There was a live band, so the music was nice and the weather held up perfectly.

By the time I got to bed, it was Midnight, again. I slept a wee bit better than the night before, but even so, I got up in time to make the cutoff for breakfast. Then, a bunch of us all sat on the patio outdoors and waited until it was time to head on out to the Belle of Louisville for our cruise, the final event of the Vinemeet.

The Belle of Louisville is one of the reasons I decided to make it to this Vinemeet. Dowser had done an article over a year ago, about the Belle and her history, and I just knew that if ever I had the opportunity, I simply had to go on a cruise on her. Well, the opportunity arose at the Vinemeet, and it wasn’t a disappointment. I deliberately left my camera back at the hotel, because some things should simply be enjoyed… so, you’ll have to peek at Rottlady’s photos on Flickr if you want to see what the cruise looked like!

Before I wrap this up, I want to thank Dowser for all her immensely hard work in bringing this all together; I want to thank Augur Well for so patiently being my chauffeur throughout the meet; and I want to thank everyone else who attended just for being there. It was such a pleasure meeting everyone: Peep, Mrs. D, GoodBen, KyanaBelle, Sydney 5, OldFogey, Rls8r, Mr. Dowser, Tyler and Sally (two of the finest Vine staffers ever!); CuriousGeorge… my apologies if I left anyone out. When I am having fun, I never think of taking notes!

I will never, ever forget this meeting and the wonderful folks who came from far and wide to attend. I’m sure the hoity-toity Washington socialites never had a party to equal ours! As for me, I headed home at 4 AM Monday, arriving at 2:30 PM exhausted but as happy a Viner as you will ever behold!

One of Rottlady’s Articles

A world-wide network of earthquake monitoring stations recorded the massive 9.0 earthquake in Japan, of which Kentucky's Geological Survey played a part.  Seismographs located in the towns of Sonora, Morgantown, Stanton, and Fulgham, KY, (near Fulton, KY), recorded the tremors.

To see the results of the seismograph readings, visit the Kentucky Geological Survey's web site news.  Here is the specific article that shows the earthquake as recorded here in Kentucky.  At the bottom of the page, IRIS, the Incorporated Research Institutions for Seismology has prepared an excellent power point presentation to download. 

The people of Japan continue to suffer as over 170,000 people are living in shelters, their future uncertain.  Humanitarian supplies are slow to reach some areas, as the roads were destroyed by the earthquake and subsequent tsunami.  Here is a web site where one can donate money to help the survivors. 

Why does Kentucky monitor earthquakes closely?  Because the New Madrid Earthquakes of 1811-1812 were of such devastating intensity, that should it happen today, large areas of the state would suffer severe damage.  Kentucky monitors earthquakes all over the world as a part of the international effort to study earthquakes, and as a part of their study of the movements of the New Madrid fault. 

But don't worry-- those coming to the VineMeet are unlikely to be threatened by an earthquake of the magnitude of 1811-1812.  Seismologists do not feel that a major earthquake is eminent along the fault, in part because the earthquakes of 1811-1812 released the buildup of pressure along the fault. 

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Thank you for coming by!

It occurred to me this evening, (well, to be honest, only after my husband mentioned it), that it might be a Good Idea to actually prepare those of you in attendance at the VineMeet for our accent.  That way those of you, who are traveling from out of town, would not be unpleasantly surprised or unduly concerned, by our pronunciation of certain words, or by the use of certain phrases in our everyday language. 

My husband and I were discussing the Civil War here in Kentucky, and that anybody with the last name Bragg ought to change it if he wished to be remembered fondly by his descendants, which followed our discussion of the ordinary environmental hazards of mountain top removal versus the glowing environmental hazards associated with nuclear power—all of which occurred in the car between our house and IHOP-- when my husband looked at me and said, “You better let ‘em know, up front, just what they’re gettin’ into. “  Meaning that y’all might not be properly prepared and ready…

For Kentucky, I thought.  “I’m makin’ videos!” I told him.  “I’m showin’ ‘em the pretty parts of the state!”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said.  “You’re not really talkin’ in them, are you?”

Oh.  He has a point. 

While talking about our great state that I love so, it may behoove all of us, if I explain to you how we speak, here in Louisville, and in Kentucky, as a whole.  Versailles is a town, here, not a castle, and we pronounce it, “Ver-sales”. We have a castle, and it is near Versailles, the town.  It was built by some yipyap with more money than sense, who took bankruptcy half-way to heaven.  Europe has no castle quite like it—it’s a cross between a concrete block prison and Cinderella’s dream house.

Not only that, but there are a few people who happen to live south of us, who declare that we sound like a bunch of, well, pardon the expression, “Yankees”.  (Gasp!)

Well, there are an equal number of people who happen to live up north that know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that we don’t sound like them, at all!  They think, instead, that 90% of us here are downright stupid “Rednecks”, because we sound as if we’ve been pulled off of some mountain, rolled in corn meal, and deep-fried.  Many people equate Southern with “ignorant”. 

Neither perception is true, of course, and, both are irritating.  As my Grandma said, joking, but not, “Them’s fightin’ words!”  My Grandma attended a fine finishing school and only used the phrase “Them’s” as a joke, by the way.

Just because Louisville is the southernmost Northern city, and the northernmost Southern city, doesn’t mean that we sound like either.    We don’t.  We have a tendency to speak like ourselves, which is pretty Southern, with a heavy blend of what is out and about in the state.  What’s out and about in the state ranges from citified educated to absolutely way back up in the holler and won’t come down.

For me, I guess I’m sort of an accent sponge.  If I’m speaking with someone from up north, I soak up their way of speaking, and suddenly enunciate in a manner that is clear and distinct.  Despite the fact that I’ll never really fit in, for the most part, they understand me. 

However, five minutes with a genuine Southerner and I can sound as corn pone and grits as if I were in the heart of the south.  The sad truth of the matter is, my southern accent clings to me like the smell of frying, while anything northern may be spritzed away immediately with a very brief application of Lynnyrd Skynnyrd.  

“You sound like a Yankee!” my mother exclaims in dismay.  Well now, hold on-- we’ll fix that!  Turn up “Sweet Home Alabama”!  It’s a miracle!  Pass the fried okra, I’m cured!

I’m not trying to be difficult, but there are certain words that just don’t make as much sense in “Yankee” as they do in “Redneck”.  Take the word “greasy”.  Northern people say, “Greassy”, as if the esses were the same as in grassy.  But here, it’s pronounced “greazy”.  If we said, “Greassy”, (which we wouldn’t), we would just say the word, “slick”, cause that is the kind of greazy we mean.  In contrast, the word “greazy” is more descriptive of the true nature of the beast.  Greazy hair is just that.  It sure isn’t slick.

Also, let’s all of us avoid the argument over “y’all” versus “you guys”.  Those words are interchangeable, and are equally as meaningful or meaningless, from whichever side of the fence you wish to sit.  My dog may be in that fight, but I’m keepin’ him collared.

Certain phrases that I use, (and take as naturally as breathing), tickle my husband, who was reared here in Louisville, The Big City.  I was reared in a small city, but we were regularly invaded by more country folk, and I learned many of my idioms from them, and from my Grandparents, who were of a different epoch. 

For example, the phrase, “Getting ready to” may vacation in my brain, but is not in residence, per se.  As in, “it’s getting ready to rain.”  Nope, I stop, look up at the darkening sky, and say, “It’s fixin’ to rain.”  Or, even better, “We’re fixin’ to have us a good gully-washer.”  Humorous to my husband, but normal to me.

Another thing, when I grew up, kerosene was called coal oil.  We have a coal oil heater and a few coal oil lamps.  The soot it produces is pronounced as ‘suet’, or “soo-it”.  By the way, be sure to trim that wick closely when you light one of those things, too, or the whole house is filled with soot.

Then there is that wonderful word, “fetch”.  I don’t use it often, but when I ask my son to “fetch me that broom there, please,” he better hand me the broom, and do it mighty quick, too.  I’m in too big a hurry to argue semantics—the floor needs a good sweepin’. 

My husband, that Big City Fella, has adopted some of my more “country” phrases or words.  To “take a shine to something”, means you like it.  “I could take a real shine to that boy,” when our son does something supersplengarlic.  “I don’t hold with that,” when someone does something with which I disagree.  “I don’t hold with incest,” which includes first cousins who contemplate marriage.  However, if it is your third cousin twice removed, well, that’s just ‘family’ and it’s no skin off my nose.

Someone will start to get all het up, (heated up), over something, and we’ll look at each other and say, “I wish he’d get shed of that notion!”  Or shake our heads over an untimely death, “I knew he warn’t goin’ to make old bones.”  Even he says ‘That TV Preacher is using the shotgun approach”, meaning he is preaching against all sins, even the little ones…  Our son is “haintsum”, (handsome), these days, and he laughs over the phrase, “Cain’t daince ‘cause ya got aints in yer paints.”

He likes it when I tell him he looks “dapper”, (when he’s all dressed up and polished).  He is appreciative that I think he’d have to “beat the ladies off with a stick” if I weren’t there to do it for him.  And he enjoys it when I laugh and say, “I’m eatin’ my white bread and butter!” meaning that I’m standing in tall cotton, now!  The day is brighter than a new penny!  Life is good, all in all!

He’s a good man, my husband, and you’ll enjoy meeting him, I’m sure.  If I get a bit too southern in my speech, just remember that it comes natural-like…  I can’t help it.  My husband will gladly translate.  With enormous effort, I can discuss matters in a way that may be taken to be more “northern”, but it usually requires great concentration, and no matter how hard I try anymore, the Kentucky in me just shines through!

Thanks for coming by to see me!

On the road in Kentucky in search of two American originals: a strong brown whiskey and a high lonesome music.

"We love American whiskey so much here at Sloshspot that we decided to scour the U.S. for the distilleries, big and small, that provide us with that sweet, sweet golden nectar we have all come to adore. It may come as a surprise, but there are most likely a few of these distilleries near your home.

(click image to enlarge)

"Bluegrass music, now considered a subgenre of country music, actually grew up alongside modern country music during the early days of the phonograph and radio. Bluegrass as a separate musical type was defined in the late 1930s and early 1940s by pioneer bluegrass artists like Bill Monroe, the Stanley Brothers, Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs