Moratorium Interruptus

I thought I was finished with cussing when last night I went to bed with a hot cup of ginger tea I had made by slicing some fresh coins of ginger into a cup of boiling water, and then I spilled the entire cup on the bed, on Loca’s bed, on my slippers and so I managed to say more cuss words in that one moment than I had in two days of my cussing moratorium – alas. I need to enlarge my vocabulary for accidents.

Meanwhile, my jar is getting rich. Add another $20 mam.

2 Responses to “Moratorium Interruptus”

  1. Alice Says:

    In several of these past posts I’m reminded of Pamela Gemin’s poem 3:15 growing up thinking “goddamn was a color, a brand we’d been sucker-sold and stuck with,
    grew up believing that all our appliances bled. The neighbors had Buicks or Fords
    and my dad had a Goddamn Car,g-d everything”. I love her poetry and I only just discovered her through your blog. Thanks! Fill up that jar soon! Then go out and doing nice with it.

  2. Rachel Says:

    I’ve already decided who is getting my cussing money – http://www.bayoubridgesnola.org/

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