Greg is nine months older than me, which never seemed to matter much before, but with his penchant for injuries, his body is probably 30 years older than mine. Still, we’ve been getting by fine.

We went back to the doctor yesterday to learn the results of his MRI. We were happy to learn that he had merely fractured a bone in his knee. It should tell you something about his previous injuries that a broken knee bone can be considered a good thing. So, no surgery.

The full recovery will take a couple months though, so he will still be hobbled for our time at the Austin City Limits Music Fest this weekend and for our hiking in New England next week. Don’t feel sorry for him. I asked him repeatedly (”nagged” would be the proper term) what was going to happen when he got hurt at this tae kwon do test. And he would just sigh at his wife, his wife who has so little confidence in him, and assure me that he was going to be careful and would not get hurt. But I digress.

The doctor gave Greg a brace for his knee, and he’s still using crutches to get around. When I got home last night, I saw something sitting in the family room that confused me. Ladies and gentlemen, a cane rested next to the TV. At first, I wondered who our geriatric visitor was. But no, I am living with the oldest 29-year-old in Austin.

Greg was in bed but had woken up when I got home.

“Greg, do I have to be seen with a man who uses a cane?” I called to him in the next room.

“No, you GET to be seen with a man who uses a cane,” he said. He pointed out that this was better than a walker.

And I suppose it is. Nonetheless, I’m going to start looking into some assisted living facitilities. I don’t know if he’s steady enough on his feet to be living at home anymore.

You can’t see me too clearly in this picture, but that’s me in there somewhere destroying my knee. Unfortunately, they weren’t my dreams of fun and excitement over the next few weeks. Sorry, Sarah.

A few days ago, I sent Greg to the store without a list. It’s almost always a mistake to send him without a list, but every time I hope that he’ll take the initiative to look through our recipes and pick out a few. After this many years of marriage, I should know better.

The day after Greg’s trip, I assessed our fridge. I saw that he had bought hamburger buns to use with the ground bison we already had in the freezer.

“Greg, did you buy vegetables to go with the burgers?” I asked.

“I thought we already had tomatoes,” he said.

“Yeah, we do. I meant for a side dish,” I said. Greg furrowed his brow, but said nothing.

“You know, those things you put next to the burger on the plate so that when you get tired of eating red meat, you can have a bite of something green or yellow or orange,” I said.

“Why would you ever get tired of eating burgers?” Greg asked. I sighed. This was a lost cause.

“There’s some canned cranberry sauce in the pantry,” Greg said helpfully.

He’s a regular Julia Child, this one.