The Husband and I held a joint discussion (1) over the stool that was painted today: What's the best way to detach the cracked masterpiece of a seat?
The painting of the stool, though, was not a joint effort (2); however, the Husband and I are joint authors (3) of four titles about various careers.
Did my voice sound disjointed (4) in the previous paragraphs? Didactic, possibly also pedantic? That how I sounded when I wrote educational materials once-upon-a-time, except I wrote concepts in simple sentences, straightforward without any editorial commentary or unneeded adjectives, at a third grade reading level. I have digressed. Hope that astray didn't get anyone's toes out of joint (5).
Jeeez, Jeeves, this joint (6) is jumping!
Fats Waller had me dancing. My knee joints (7) are fine, as long as I don't do something silly like the splits or the Charleston.
Until two years, when I consulted a joint specialist (8) I had no idea my legs are jointed (9) awkwardly. The doctor told me he could fix my knees but he couldn't straighten my leg. It's crooked?
When I was 10 or 11 years old, Mama told me that Uncle Frank thought something was wrong with my legs. I shrugged as did Mama. Thus, that was the end of the subject until 52 years later.
Do these daisy bushes look like they may be holding a joint peace talk (10)? Obviously, they're not passing a joint (11). No being handcuffed and taken to the joint (12), should they be.
There you go. Time to leave this joint (13) and get something done.
I'm hooking up with blogging friends at ABC Wednesday and Thirteen Thursday. Come along, why don't you? Thank you, kind hosts!