Friday, August 11, 2006
A Day at the Races
The stage: a neat gazebo at my 102-year-old Mom's assisted living home. The occasion: a KFC-type picnic get-together -- better for relaxing with my 4-1/2-year-old grandchild than the formal dining room. The actors: local and visiting family members.
Including the niece from Memphis. (Did I mention that adventures, small and large, travel in her wake?)
The action: a series of horse races, spills and subsequent visits to the Memphis vet to repair the horse. (Did I mention that the granddaughter is besotted with horsies?)
Granddaughter curries horse prior to race.
Her Mom announces "They're off and running!" Loudly. Nasally. (Hope announcements didn't disturb other residents in units facing the gazebo...)
The race is underway.
Cousin from Memphis takes the lead.
Ooops! There was a spill and granddaughter's horse was raced to the vet from Memphis.
Vet examines the horsie.
Vet begins operation. Granddaughter: "I can't watch."
"Don't laugh! This is serious."
By this time, we were all hysterical. But we managed to swallow most of the laughter. The operation was completed. The horse recovered to race again.
And everybody lived happily ever after.