BAD WORDS!!!

     Last evening, I came home from work, and remembered that I had forgotten to plan anything for dinner. The ever nutritious standby of pancakes was utilized, while I tried to ignore the sugar and empty carb content of this meal.


     Opening the refrigerator, I saw that we were nearly out of syrup. (Fake syrup. Yes. We live in maple country, surrounded by maple farms, maple syrup, and live in the middle of the Maple Festival. I have fake syrup at my house.) Anyhow, thinking we had a new bottle of fake syrup  kicking around, I stretched over the ever inconveniently placed husky, to reach a top shelf for fake syrup, and a large can of pears pretty much launched itself off another shelf and landed on my foot. To this minute, I cannot believe how painful that was. Normally my threshold for pain is pretty high. This rated up there with some of the worst pain of my life. Realizing thru a foggy haze, that all four of my children were watching me, I yelled "BAD WORDS BAD WORDS BAD WORDS BAD WORDS BAD WORDS!!!!!!" And attempted deep breathing. Kaila offered to continue the pancakes, and I sat down for a minute to collect my whimpering self, incredulous at the absolute pain that this had caused.


     A few minutes later, I limped back into the kitchen, and thanked Kaila for making dinner. The conversation then went as such:


     "I know you were thinking bad words, when you were saying "BAD WORDS!", Mom." comments George. "You MEANT "Eff something."


     "Or G-- D--- something" agrees Kaila.


     "Definitely the S H word. Several times" chimes in Joe


     "Probably the H E double hockey stick word" adds Lexi


     "And the Beaver Dam word, only, without the Beaver in it." nods George.


     "You could have just said them. We would have understood." one of them threw in.


     "You kids shouldn't even know what those words ARE." I pointed out darkly, with the realization that my children have the vocabulary of seaside dock workers.


     "Dad." They all nodded, throwing him under the proverbial bus.


     At this point, I received a call from a friend, who had called over the weekend with medical questions about his elderly mother. I had advised a trip to the ER. I inquired as to the health of his mother, and was told "Oh, I don't know. I talked to someone else, who said it was probably nothing."


     "What? Who else did you talk to?"


     "Cathy something or other. She is a friend of my brother's."


     "And what does Cathy do?"


     "She is a nurse."


     "Where?"


     "Well. I mean. Not a nurse nurse."
 
     "What is 'not a nurse nurse' , exactly?"


     "Well, she works in a nursing home doing something, so, she knows medical stuff. She's in that field and is around that kind of thing a lot."


     "You are a truck driver, right?"


     "What does that have to do with anything?! You know I am!"


     "Next time I have questions about trucks, truck driving, road conditions, thruway conditions - anything - I am going to go find an AMISH PERSON AND ASK THEM!!!! Those buggies have 4 wheels! They are obviously knowledgeable about transportation. They even ride in vehicles, if they can find someone to drive them. Being around all that, I am sure they know stuff."


     "Shut up."


     "Bad Words."


     Anyhow. My foot still hurts, I probably won't ask the Amish people for driving advice, and I am blessedly happy it's Friday! Have a good weekend!