Hey! My blog is now a part of my website at www.heatherream.com . See you there!
For Annie, featuring an appearance by our dear one, Patsy. This isn't something I'm especially proud of, but, I can cuss with the best of them. Maybe it was because my grandfather was a sailor, and he taught my mother some of his most descriptive curse words. During my tender years, I absorbed each of them from her as rapidly as a clean sponge soaks up whiskey. I didn't start cussing on a regular basis, however, until after my dad died. My mother, sister, and I were thrust into survival mode overnight. Suddenly it was acceptable, and perhaps even appropriate, to use tough language. It matched the mood of my heart. My father, on the other hand, was a shining example of Christian gentility. He would have rather bitten off his tongue than cussed. Not only did he feel that it dishonored the Lord, but he believed cussing made one seem coarse and unloving. In the 11 years that I knew him, I only ever heard him utter one swear, after an 18-wheeler nearly side-