hats

Behold my hat, spindle, and sippy-cup of wine. 

Where were we? We were at Belmont Raceway for the inaugural gala event, Purls and Ponies - a get-together of knitters and spinners from our local Panera group, organized by Betty, with the only stipulation being : you must wear a hat. 

I must confess: wearing a hat was almost a dealbreaker for me - not because I don't like hats, not because I don't look good in hats, but because I have a small head. Proportionately small, since I am a small person. However, small enough to make it difficult to find hats that fit. 

I wanted a cloche. Impossible. Every.Single.Cloche came down to my chin.  I love hats with big, flowy brims. Forget it. I'm 4'10", and a big, flowy brim makes me look like one of the mushrooms from Fantasia, or like I should live in a house that looks like this.

Which I don't.

Anyway, we had a wonderful time, despite getting terrible, if expected, news two days before - that Lisa, who had been one of the Panera women from the start, had died.  (In memory: Lisa Grossman, The Tsock Tsarina.) We got together anyway, because that's what a a family of friends does, and it was right.

You can see how right it was from the photo, yes? 









Betty worked at Belmont for many years, so she edumacated us about reading the program and selecting horses. We ignored the edumacation, and bet on horses for all the right reasons - because the jockey's silks were purple, because the horse was named Loretta Lynn, because ooh, look at the pretty grey horsie... We had lunch, we laughed, we remembered, and we reminded each other again and again that love does go on.

(and because I know you'll all ask - I'm the one in turquoise.)