I have a confession...

Cussin' swearin' potty mouthin'.... It's all the same. I used to be like a sailor. For real. I did learn from the best (sorry... you know who you are so I won't force you into a confession) Back in the 9th grade I had a mouth. And then one day someone mentioned that they had no idea I was Mormon because I swore so much.

OUCH!

So, I quit. It was pretty easy. At first I just found substitute words. Freakin', shoot, darn, sheisty, golly gee willikers, ink pink that stinks (a boyfriend came up with that one and I still think it's weird) Whatever. They were all dumb I am sure. Then I decided that substitutions were just as bad as the real words. I then felt the need to learn how to express my feelings without any four letter words whether they were swears or not! (I wish I could say that is when I started talking to much, but it has always been a problem....)

I think I succeeded. I made a seriously valiant effort to forgo poor language. My Dad did it once so I figured I could. That's right everybody. Farmer Dale once had the same problem and he solved it by offering his children two dollars each for every bad word that came out of his mouth- if we could catch him. Six kids and very few words later the problem was solved. I must add- to this day my Dad will still fork over two dollars for cussing. And I have shamelessly capitalized on this over the years. I haven't earned much but every now and then I get lucky. (Sorry Dad... your secret is out but you don't read this so I might be ok) Did I mention that I was the reason that he started that? He heard me, at the tender age of 5, tell my sister she was 'something special.' Of course he followed with, "Where did you hear that?" And the rest is history.

So, I cleaned up.

And then I had kids.

Just kidding. Well, I did have kids but they don't make me swear. Want to run my head into the wall, stare in exasperation, or cry in pure frustration- Yes. Swearing-No.

BUT... running my car into a pole in the absolute most ghetto parking garage in Nashville will make me swear.

Ugh. I am so disgusted with myself. I do remember the last two times I swore- I was 7 or 8 months pregnant with Rowan, tripped on an ant hill in three inch heels (I know-gooooober)and fell very hard onto the cement driveway slamming my whole body and baby onto my wrist. Yes it hurt. Apparently enough to make me swear at my beloved husband who does NOT swear. Ever. Maybe once. MAYBE.

And the time before that I stubbed my toe in high school and a bad word popped out of my mouth. I was crying... my mom was trying to calm me down and really just could not understand why I was bawling over a bummer toe. She laughed when I explained that I was upset because I swore, not because of my toe.

And I am sure someone who has lived with me in the past might think of one. Or two. But I can't remember, so keep it to yourself please.

Just when I think I have cleaned up my act, I surprise myself. I said it without even thinking. And HELLO? How does one hit a pole? It wasn't like it blended into the background or anything. It was bright white in the middle of the way. Speaking of...

Let's talk about this parking garage. I had to honk my horn going down the ramps because I shared the driveway with cars coming in the opposite direction (as in ONLY one lane) the elevator had buffed out swears (of course) and the whole placed looked like it was going to cave in. And it didn't really have an entrance, I had to drive over a curb to get in it, and only about 10 cars could fit on each level. On some levels only 4 cars could fit. All to save 8 bucks. That's right. All this for 8 bucks. And a hair show. But that's another story.