This time, she fractured her right hip. Emergency hip replacement today. I'll be busy joining the family rotation to help out Dad, cook casseroles, and to keep her company.
She requested no flowers to be sent to her hospital room so it would not feel like a funeral. She's the sort of person who, when you visit her in the hospital, feels she has to entertain you regardless of pain. Old Yankees do not do self-pity.
A post today at NYM reminded me of my Mom's champion riding career. (She was also a champ trap and skeet shooter.) When I was young, she still had a show jumper and a hunter at the farm, but by the time there were five of us kids she had no time for it, and her horses were getting old - I've told readers in the past about how old Jimminy Cricket would mosey over to the kitchen door, push open the screen door, and try to get his tall shoulders through the kitchen door. Mom had been coached, for a time, by the great Bill Steinkraus.
Her favorite thing to do was the hunt. I joined her on a couple of them when I was around 9 or 10. I have not been on a hunt since then, but have messed with plenty of horses since then in New England, Ireland, Montana, and New York City. That's a good sequeway to the post about The Scarteen Hunt in Ireland.
As the man says, Ireland does have interesting TV: Hector Goes Hunting” (With the Scarteen)