For those of you who know me: your pokes and prods in my dimpled ass are finally bearing fruit (to brutally and tastelessly mix my metaphors), and I'm finally going to WRITE. We've hired a cleaning lady, baby Henry can finally entertain himself in the pack 'n' play if he's armed with something shiny, the teenager across the street is willing to watch him when I've had it, and I've crossed off every teeny tiny little procrastinatory task I have listed in my Google task list. In short, I have no more excuses. Oh, and I know myself well enough that the only way I'll really write is if I have an audience that reacts and thinks I'm funny. I'm that vain.
I hereby unveil "Borrowing Robes", the content of which as of now will be two-fold:
1) My probably completely unoriginal musings and rants about motherhood;
2) Aerating ideas for and progress on a book (More on that later. nothing to do with motherhood, at least thus far.)
Why the hell is your ridiculous blog called "Borrowing Robes," you ask?
Bonus points and a clafouti to anyone who can identify the reference. I promise I'll fill you in once you all have made your guesses.
Damn you, Meghan! I've scoured the intertubes and come up empty as to the possible meaning of the borrowing robes reference. How long will you hold us captive?
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