Many a cook has claimed their food tastes better because it was cooked with love. A product from my kitchen is as likely to have been cooked with another four letter word - or several. Oh, there's love, too, but for me the struggle and swearing are part of the process. My father was an ex marine and a truck driver. He was a fisherman in his free time and an often belligerent alcoholic; so, it's really a wonder that I'm allowed in polite company at all. His bad example helped to demonstrate that there's a time and a place to exercise my vocabulary, and as a result, only a few people could guess the extent of it. Even as a teen, I was always amused when guys I hung out with would apologize for the occasional slip. Apparently, my image, built up from being a reader and a good student, a relatively wise and responsible child, put me in the category with mothers, teachers and librarians. I was a delicate creature who would be easily shocked by rude language. In truth...