Can I just tell you a little something-something about myself? It's a secret I've been keeping from the blogging world for quite a while for fear of a general outcry and swift retribution. BUT, never being one to be able to keep a secret for long, I'll tell you. I hate aprons. A few years ago we had a women's social at church in which we were all given aprons and told they were an example of service. I nearly didn't take one. I nearly skipped out on the whole thing... oh, wait--I think I did leave early. You must be wondering what my miff is? What's got my bloomers in a bind? What's got my corset askew? What's the rock in my high heel? To me aprons are the physical representation of everything women fought to free themselves of! Forget bras, people... what about aprons? Everybody seems so gung-ho to embrace aprons these days and every time I see one I just think to myself--"A woman's place is in the kitchen." Wow, last ti
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May the farce be with you. Ah, um, make that "force."
In the meantime, blessings and Bear hugs.
I think tonight I will go to bed extra early. :) and learn my lesson about staying out late. My 31 year old self doesn't handle it quite as well as my 21 year old did.
Really? I would never have known. Who would have thought?
Now, think of a bod that is twice your age, and how that thought makes me feel.
Shrug, sniffle. Bear trundles out.