Born and raised in the Bible Belt, Mom had taken a strong position about cussing when we were growing up—A pretty woman doesn’t have an ugly mouth, she would say—so Alina and I had developed our own set of silly words as substitutes. Crap was fudge-buckets. Ass was petunia. Shit was daisies and the f-word, which I can’t even recall the last time I used, was frog.
