I am going to start a swear jar, and make my mother put a quarter in it every time she says the word “ridonkulous”. No, mom. I don’t care how many toothbrushes are balanced precariously in the cup over the sink, that type of language is unacceptable. It’s going in the corner with “über”.
But she did stay up all night casting bronze at the university again, and stuck my dumb little mermaid-cat thing on her gating. It’s a bit mangy and bent right now, but nothing a few power tools and a sand blaster can’t resolve.
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