Wednesday, September 4, 2013


I collect words. I have scraps of paper, corners of napkins, pictures on my phone, all of words. If I chose what covers my walls, I would have walls of books, and canvases of wordy quotes. My friends are rarely surprised when they get a random text from me, saying "Could you look in that book on your coffee table and tell me what the quote was at the beginning/middle/end?"

When I hear a minister drop the word 'brevity' in his sermon, I want to stand up and say 'AMEN'. When one of my monkeys calls the other 'malevolent', I am so proud of the vocabulary that I have to remember this is not an acceptable word to call a family member. Out loud. If someone uses 'salacious' or 'pedantic' or 'chicanery', I honestly feel my heart leap a little.

I also have quite a collection of curse words. These, I would not splash on canvases across my wall, or tattoo on my wrist. However, if we are being honest, a well-placed curse word gets the point across much better than a wishy-washy "Beans and Rice" or "Gosh Darnit." I was around my (LOVED AND ADORED :)) sister this weekend, and was well aware that her kids probably don't hear a fifteen syllable variation of the F word when she pulls a hamstring. It's a journey, cupcakes. Littered with curse words and sore muscles, in my case.

That being said, I am constantly learning that words have a hefty power. Once said, they cannot be unsaid. Once the words cross your lips, you cannot grab them and stuff them back down. I am trying to choose them honestly and well, trying to make sure the ones that I would hang on my walls are the ones that cross my lips. Although I am about to go for a run, with a throbbing sciatic nerve. So if you hear a torrent of curse words, well. Yeah.

Peace and love and sweet whispers. XOXO

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