I remember a line from a Dick Francis novel from the amateur sleuth/jockey to the bad guy. He says something to the effect, "I hear nothing angers a criminal as much as being found guilty of the one thing he didn't do."

Isn't it the truth? We can be guilty of all kinds of sins, but accuse us of the one thing we didn't do, and stand by. The converse is equally true. We may do something annoying all the time (interrupting, ignoring, jumping to conclusions, whatever) but let someone else do it to us... well, it's not pretty.

I'm not really a sharer, but sometimes I do need to talk. When I'm ready to talk, I want to talk. I don't want to be interrupted or have a running commentary.

Hubby is a talker. He's an interrupter. Who hates to be interrupted. But he does recognize that about himself and is completely open to reminders and correction.

I'm a detail sharer, who wants the bottom line only when someone is sharing their details.Me + Him = (Occasional) conflict in communication. But I realize that if I want to talk about the difference between genre literature, the trade off is that I get to listen to and discuss the differences in different species of fruit flies. Or whatever.

Life is sweet - most of the time. Because of the give and take.

My husband used to lecture our daughters and say, "Words mean something." It's true.

And now that I make my "living" with words, how they're used is even more precious to me.

I may have to change banks. The one I use has a sign (in most, if not all, the branches I've visited). It's prominently displayed at the front of the teller line.

"PLEASE HAVE YOUR TRANSACTION(S) COMPLETED BEFORE YOU REACH THE WINDOW"

Ummm... how is that possible when I need the teller's service to complete the transaction???

Now, I know they mean have the paperwork (deposit and/or withdrawal slips) completed by the time you reach a teller. But that's not what they say.

Irregardless, of intent, they shou-what? Oh, right. Irregardless is not a real word. I meant 'Regardless.'

There's a common quote from Mark Twain that writer's like to share: "The difference between the almost right word and the right word is really a large matter—it’s the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning."

I sometimes make the quote my own and change it to butter and butterfly. But I always give Mark Twain credit.

What it comes back to is the same thing my girls rolled their eyes at for years: Words mean something. Or they ought to.

Except when it's an orange.

My daughter and grand-daughter were visiting last week. And went to visit my parents, Evelyn's great-grandparents. My dad took her out to look at his garden and pointed out his different fruit trees. There was a peach and a nectarine. And he showed her the orange tree.

"No, those are apples," she said.
"No, oranges," Grampa said.

"Apples." Have I mentioned that the women in our family are known for their stubbornness?

Grampa shrugged and said, "Okay, they're apples."

Evelyn turned, saw the second orange tree and pointed at it. "Oh look, more oranges."

We figure she just wanted to be right. Once Grampa agreed that she was right, then she was free to change her mind.

Isn't it just like a child? Or a woman? Actually, isn't it human nature? We hate to admit we're wrong. We cling to our delusions. We insist the oranges are apples.

Hmmm... I'm hungry for fruit salad. Or a fruit cup. Or even canned fruit cocktail. Dibs on the one cherry.