Fifteen years ago today, I met my very best friend. No, we didn’t talk that day—we were young and shy, just days past our thirteenth birthdays. But we listened to our parents as we all walked those boardwalks through Yellowstone—away from the Riverside Geyser where we met, towards Old Faithful itself. We all thrilled at…
My daughters have split personalities right now. They spend their days dressing and playing the part of either Nurse Nancy (from the Little Golden Book) and Nurse Carol (from Curious George Goes to the Hospital) or Cinderella and The Ugly Step-Sister. And last night, apparently they were switching personalities so quickly that one of Cinderella’s…
Growing older makes it hard to say goodbye. They are two years old and three years old. And it’s only hard to say goodbye because they don’t understand time or why people have to live so far away or how long it is until Christmas. He and I are getting oh-so-close to thirty. And it’s…
I didn’t grow up with Hermie and Wormie. (I’m kind of too old.) But my girls will. (They’re just the right age.) When our new Hermie and Wormie books arrived, we sat down to read them and I finally met Hermie, “the Common Caterpillar.” The board books were perfect for my 2-year-old. And my almost-4-year-old…
I’m so glad you dropped by my kitchen! Let’s pour a cup of tea and swap apron stories for a bit, shall we? I’ll cut a slice of homemade bread and get out the raspberry freezer jam. And then, if dinner-time’s a-comin’, I’ll tie on an apron and you can keep me company while I…
Big aprons. Little aprons. Floral print aprons. Striped canvas aprons. Our aprons are as varied as we are.
And the stories behind them are even more numerous than the aprons themselves!
Hair ribbons. Aprons. They lend beauty to the ordinary, everyday tasks of dishes and dusting. They make it easier to have a spring in my step as I go about the same housewifely rituals I know must-needs be done again tomorrow. There’s something about these little touches of femininity that make me feel like I’ve stepped out of Little Women or Little House on the Prairie.
Over-mixed cakes. Cookies that taste like a bit too much something was added. Licking the vanilla spoon. Sampling the dough with no thought of raw eggs. Little floury hand-prints everywhere.
Little helpers in little aprons. They make cooking a joyful mess!
The thing I love about aprons is that they are so practical. I mean, what is an apron for, but to get soiled—and in so doing protect what you’re wearing underneath? “Go and make yourself tidy. Your hands are dirty, your apron soiled, and your hair looks as if it hadn’t been combed for a…
Why do some women love to cook? Because behind their skill deciphering a recipe and prowess with a mixer is the hidden secret of their talent: a darling apron.
I grew up looking at the pictures of my parents in their first little home (a trailer decked out in all those 70’s colors), my daddy wearing the hat as he prepared their first meal in their new home (an omelet—what else? my dad has always been the breakfast chef, especially on Sunday mornings), and them sneaking a kiss behind the “Kiss the Cook” washcloth.
They hang there in my kitchen. Often hidden by the bathroom door. Overflowing off a double hook screwed to the pantry cupboard. My aprons. All seven of them—and counting. They hang under the double-sided spice chart telling me which herb to choose for poultry or for beef. Adding to the vintage look of that corner…
The End.
The End.