But a new word must only be uttered when its proper context and potential power are both understood and appreciated. And it's not enough to take a stab at its definition by analyzing its place in a sentence.

Playing with words is a lot like playing with matches. And I have the singed fingers to prove it.

In fourth grade, when I wasn't in school, I was running amuck in the hood. Okay, so the "hood" was just my block where everyone knew everyone else and their business. But it was a quick trip around on my green Schwinn and I was good at jumping backyard fences.

Three doors down was Angie Taylor's house. She was just my age and we spent lots of time together when it was warm enough to play outside. When it was cold, we didn't. And that's because I wasn't allowed inside her house.

Though I don't remember where that rule originated I never argued because, truthfully, I was petrified of Mrs. Taylor. I can still feel her steel grip on my shoulder that day she chased me down and forced me to kiss her daughter even though it wasn't my fault ... whatever it was.

Mrs. Taylor was usually running off to a meeting at her church to save the orphans and feed the world. My mom said Mrs. Taylor should've made sure her own kids had shoes first. My mom said some other things too which led me to believe they weren't half the friends that Angie and I were.

Since Angie was the oldest playing with her meant we had to watch her younger brothers and sister. And I didn't mind because I enjoyed being bossy and relished an opportunity to wield my big vocabulary.

My mom, however, didn't like it one bit, which is why we weren't allowed indoors at our house either. Apparently two 10-year-olds aren't very good supervision for three little ragamuffins. So you could say Angie and I were the definition of "fair weather friends".

But sunshine is funny especially after a long winter or hard rain. And even the sourest grapes become sweet raisins with a good dose of vitamin D which is evidently what happened to Mrs. Taylor one spring day.

Angie and I were outside playing when she called us in, all peaches and cream. I was hesitant but, upon smelling pie, decided to let bygones be bygones.

Scooping steaming cherries into my mouth I listened as Mrs. Taylor rattled off her many responsibilities and wondered how the world got along before her. I wondered too. As children reason it is more likely that they, themselves, are indeed naughty than that the grown-ups in their lives have been less than nice.

And then it hit me! I had just the word for Mrs. Taylor! She'd be so impressed with me that she'd surely forgive my bad influence on her daughter. Then our mothers would become fast friends and Angie and I wouldn't have to wait for the weather man to say we could play.

So I sat up at my plate, wiped my face and cleared my throat.

"My mom said you do a lot of good deeds for other people," I beamed. She beamed too.

"Yeah, she said you're a real hypocrite."

Silence. I figured she was just taking a moment to process what I'd said.

Honestly, I can't remember how I got home, just that I did in record time. And, though I tore my shorts hurdling back yard fences, my mom was all hugs. After all, she reasoned, though I wasn't sure of the definition, I had used my new word appropriately and in the proper context. Two out of three ain't bad.

Despite my brush with death my wonder at words never waned. I got an A+ in English balanced by a thesaurus for Christmas.

And, despite all odds, Angie and I remained backyard friends until she moved away one day in the rain.