We took our granddaughters to the races at Keeneland yesterday. It was a cold gray day. Bitter even. But what a world that is - magnificent regal creatures and all the cultural hoopla.

I enjoyed what I had heard is the best bread pudding in Kentucky. The bourbon sauce was something to be licked off the plate, I will give it that. Rae and I went into the gift shop and tried on expensive fabulous hats - fit for a royal outing with the Queen. Rachel looks incredible in a hat. She is transformed into a person I don't know... intimidating, grand, expensive. I look, well, like me wearing a hat. This is not a small difference between her and me.

The best moment for me was when a filly in the the fifth race unseated her jockey just before being led into the starting blocks. She wheeled around and raced away from the gate, across the field with tail flying and hooves barely touching the ground. Two guide horses took off after her pounding the turf. The filly came around the corner and I thought she might run past us, but instead she veered left and jumped a tall fence and disappeared off across the field.

It was magnificent. A moment of uncontrolled abandon. Utter freedom and power and will driving a beautiful challenge to the rules of the race.

The announcer solemnly declared, "Late scratch, number Nine."

For me it was the best moment of the day.