I don’t even know what my favourite word is, not sure that I have one but reading the responses this morning was humourous. Everything from the f word to love and Jesus. A lot of love and Jesus really.

I’ll get words stuck in my head and repeat them over and over, words that are satisfying to say. Maybe I should start writing them down so I will remember them.

Words that I use often in conversation are the weak words like maybe and the suffix I like to stick on the end of things just to show how wishy-washy I really am, ish. We’ll start at two-ish today. My vacation was fun-ish. Today I’m going to work hard-ish.

I like other words simply for what they represent in my life. I like December, it’s the month of Christmas and my birthday. The word December conjures up some good memories from my childhood. Family, snowmobiling, skating on the river, toboganning down the hill at my Gramma’s, cross country skiing with my sister Gena and food.

December was a chillax month for my Dad, the fields are frozen and covered in snow. All there was to do is maybe haul grain to town to sell and keep the cattle fed, watered and warm-ish.

I feel like being a December baby makes me tough somehow. My Mom says that even though I was just born on the 21st, by Christmas Day we were at my Gramma’s for Christmas dinner with all the rest of the family. And I think in those days a hospital stay after delivering a baby was much longer.

So we didn’t sit around, Mom and I, we’re no wimps. We got right back into the groove of life and I imagine I was being passed around the kitchen from family member to family member on my very first Christmas, just 4 days old.

Growing up, I noticed these sissies with the summertime birthdays didn’t know what being tough was all about. They had backyard parties with slip ‘n slides, bbq’ing hot dogs. Easy. Lame. Couldn’t be me. I’m December tough.