Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “bone.” Use it any way you like. Have fun!
To see the rules for this weekly challenge and all the entries for Saturday 27 October 2018, visit Linda G Hill.
Bone? What can one say about a bone? Let me think.
Mmm, nobody can ever say about me that I am just flesh and bone unless they want to refer to me as a meaty bone. This is what dog owners in South Africa ask for at the butchery when they want to treat their dogs. I certainly hope that nobody is saying that I won’t make old bones; I only have a summer cold for goodness’ sake. People tend to become germophobic when they grow older.
Bones. I remember how we taunted each other with the singsong “sticks and stones can break my bones but words will never hurt me”, but it did. Hurt, I mean. Thank goodness, as we grow older, we tend to grow thicker skins. Not that I’m old yet. Well. Maybe just a little. That’s another thing, I no longer know how to explain my age. Twenty or thirty years ago we referred to anyone nearing the age of seventy as “elderly”. Now they say that sixty plus is the new middle-aged generation. This is how we know that the world is changing when any reference to the age groups becomes a bone of contention. People will argue about anything. Or nothing.
To tell the truth, I think I can honestly say that I don’t have an argumentative bone in my body. Not anymore. Two or three decades ago I didn’t mind picking a bone with a difficult boss, especially the kind that made me work my fingers to the bone, figuratively speaking. I remember those days when I earned so little that, long before the end of the month, my bank account ran bone dry. Not figuratively speaking.
Exactly where am I going with this? These days I can ramble on about the most trivial things. I’m like a dog with a bone. Is this what Stream of Consciousness is? Chewing the bone without a single conscious thought in your head?
Mmm. Time to clamp the old jawbone shut I think.