I tacked a day onto this week’s business travel to visit my mother in Phoenix. We had a nice time, and now off to work I go.
There’s one thing I’d like to tell you about the visit, only because it speaks volumes about how I got to be the way I am.
Before I arrived, my mother had been going through some boxes of family mementos. She had taken a few relics out to share with me. There were some old family photos, obituaries, news clippings (one about my grandfather, who was hit by a truck in 1939). In with the collection was a list of mixed metaphors.
My mother and her brother had collected these over the years. She and her siblings were blessed—or cursed—with a reverence for the English language and genetically endowed—or cursed—with a perverse sense of humor.
My cousins might be surprised to learn that these treasures, which until now were only traded aloud at family parties, dwell on typed pages (I’m bringing you copies). I trust it’s okay to share these here, as I presume the utterers have either passed on or aren’t reading this blog. While my uncle collected many during an illustrious career, my mother gathered others from friends and talk show hosts.
“That will take the steam out of their sails.”
“I’ll get that done by tomorrow, come hook or crook.”
“I’ve been beating my head against the bushes all day.”
“Oh, well, it’s all water over the bridge.”
“You could have knocked me over with a 10-foot pole.”
“Now the fat’s in the frying pan.”
“He’s really treading on thin water.”
“It was as hard as pulling hen’s teeth.”
“You can’t beat blood out of a dead horse.”
“How the Sam Hell!”
“I’m afraid there is no outlook in sight.”
“All right gentlemen, let us circumcise our watches.”
“That guy’s got a rough hoe.”
“He’s still green behind the ears.”
“That guy just beats to a different drummer.”
Commentary on something bad: “Well, that’s the luck of the Irish!”
After a harrowing visit to the dentist: “When that drill hit a nerve, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”
On excellence: “He was head above shoulders.”
And my personal favorite: “When in Rome, you have to dance to the music.”
Have a good week and keep your metaphors separated.