While sitting at home one evening, listening to my floorboards and bones creak, I decided to do a little research about the latter.
The rough city streets of Chicago have really taken a toll on me. So much so that, when I move my left arm, my bones do a little jig called crepitus – a grating, cracking sound.
As it turns out, crepitus isn’t just for bones; it is also for Greeks. According to Wikipedia, Crepitus is the Roman god of flatulence. Knowing That’s Not Chinese would be pleased to hear this news, I sent her a link to the info. She replied, “Crepitus is NOT Chinese.” “Sure smells Chinese,” was my reply.
She didn’t respond. Typical. Last time I saw her she asked, “Am I going to be in the blog?” I replied, “”Have you said anything blogworthy?” “That question is blogworthy,” was her only response.
Not sure that it was actually blogworthy but, as usual, That’s Not Chinese crept into the blog like a stinky fart creeps into an aerobics class.