We used to tell our kids to act their age. Now they tell us to act our age. We try, but it’s not easy when you are 20-somethings trapped inside the bodies of seasoned citizens.

The husband spent five days last fall channeling Paul Bunyan, swinging an ax at the roots on a 60-year-old maple tree that a removal service had taken down. In addition to getting most of the roots out, he got two frozen shoulders, a wrist injury, steroid injections and months of physical therapy.

Not to be left out, I injured my back lunging over a seat in a moving SUV to retrieve a coffee mug. The vault went well but my landing was a disaster. I pose no threat to Simone Biles.

We are now trying (at least temporarily) to time our heavy lifting to whenever someone younger stops by. We don’t tag just anybody. We s

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