My sister called yesterday to let me know that my dad had an accident on his scooter and broke his hip.  He’s having surgery today.

And yes, by “scooter” I mean one of those Razor scooters–not the electric kind.  My dad has always been youthful and active.  Well, youthful in the active sense.  My husband doesn’t think it’s very youthful to play cribbage or watching Judging Amy, but he didn’t always play cribbage.  He took up Rollerblading when I was in high school.  He used to skate around the church parking lot while I was in my early-morning seminary class.  Everyone thought he was a pistol.  He was supposed to go on a “wilderness adventure” trip in August.  I guess that’s off now.

And yes, Rollerblade®, I realize I should have said “in-line skating.”  Sorry about that.

This morning I told Mister Bubby that Grandpa had broken his hip and had to have surgery.  He said, “People have to get surgeries a lot when they’re old.”

True.  But here’s the problem:  if my dad is finally getting old, then I can’t be far behind.

Yes, I know I had a birthday last week.

P.S.  I am not really 40.

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