Saturday, June 6, 2009
Dry as a bone
That is a figure of speech I don't quite grasp because bones aren't really dry. That is what I told Kirby. He asks what do I mean because bones are dry... I said not the bones I think about. I asked what bones are he thinking about. <-- Goodness that IS some fabulous grammar. I shouldn't blog right after I drink coffee.
Back to my bones. I asked what bones does he think about and he suggested old dry bones in a cave, and 100 year old skeletons.
Okay good point. But when I think of that figure of speech I think of the bones under my skin that are all wet from my blood, plasma, and muscles and stuff. Or bones from chicken wings and ribs when I'm eating them- definitely not dry. And dogs slobbering on bones. Oh and I'm kind of a perv sometimes because I mentioned another bone that isn't always dry.
Anyway my cat just jumped up on the dining room chair and the pillow slipped off so he did, too. I laughed at him, then I felt bad because he's an old cat so I called him over to pet him and tell him he didn't have to lick himself. But the other one came over and he got all pissed at me because he's jealous of her.
Lesson: Go to the cat to console him. And if you think outside the box there is no use trying to get in. They don't let people like me in.