Quote:
Originally Posted by glassactcc
Lisa, I could'nt have described it better. Although you had an advantage. I've never seen Tinks ankles. But I might be able to just look over my belt on my jeans and get the same idea.
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Hey, I've never seen her ankles either. Just too many excruciatingly boring and scary Sunday mornings in the nursing home as my father visited with his senile mother, and me and my sisters were stuck on those naugahyde cushions, in fear that the circling residents would pounce and talk to us. We felt like live bait. A very hushed atmosphere, but with moans coming down the hallway. I kid you not.
We got cornered one time by a lady lecturing us about how she could smell onions anywhere, and we must have stopped and had onions to eat. Gawd. And, of course, once we escaped THAT purgatory, we had the 8+ hour drive ahead of us back to Phoenix across the New Mexico desert. Oooh, the thrills of my youth.
Oh, and I wouldn't mind worshipping at your ankles any time, Tink, droopy or not.
Lisa