In thinking about my last few posts, I fear that I may have inadvertently given you the wrong impression. For after reading over the exploits of the past week I realize that you - my dear readers - may mistakenly believe that I have a mouth like a longshoreman.
So I'm here today to tell you that I don't . . . have a mouth like a longshoreman, that is.
In fact, if you were to ask my husband, family, and co-workers (the priests especially) they would tell you in no uncertain terms that they have never heard a swear word come out of my mouth. But the truth of the matter is that lately I've been dealing in a steady stream of expletives - in my head only.
Do you know how - when you're learning a foreign language - they'll tell you that you'll know that you have truly mastered that language once you start to think in your new tongue? Well congratulations must be in order for my rapid learning skills because I now think in obsceniteese.
Case in point . . .
I have recently started using a most peculiar phrase whenever I drop something. . . or when I go to use my makeup remover pads and some teenage daughter has stolen them. . . or when I have to walk into the messy room that once was a neat little nursery. . . or when I go to do a load of wash and find another person's wet clothing still sitting in the bottom of the washer. . . or how about when I go to take my car out of the garage and find a lazy daughter has parked directly behind me . . . or when I return home at eight o'clock at night and no one has bothered to feed the dog . . . or when. . . well, you get the picture.
And just what is that peculiar phrase you might ask?
Sh*t and a half!
That's right. It's no longer good enough to use, Sh*t! I have to practice one-up-manship and add an extra half - making it, Sh*t and a half!
But, however odd the phrase, the odder thing may be the fact that the displeasure never makes it past my teeth and lips. Instead, it stays swirling around the jumbled vortex of my head so that, while on the outside A Mom on Spin may appear to be happy, jolly and content, on the inside her brain is twisting, cursing and contorting in a way quite unbefitting a lady of any kind - much less a lady who spends half her life at church.
So you see, my friends, when I did all of that re-entry swearing after vacation, it really was all in my head. . . you know. . . kind of like my own private language. And ditto for when Trigger incurred all those overdraft charges. . . .the expletives were private thoughts . . .like prayers. . . only the opposite. . .and sometimes the prayers and the swears were even mixed together in one big old half-holy slurry . . .like, Dear God, would you please help that feckin' Trigger to learn how to manage a freakin' bank account?
Yeah. That's it. A half-holy-prayer-and-swear slurry. . .
What?
Is there anything wrong with that?
