A Gift From My Soul-Sista
I’m beginning to feel like the old lady with a thousand cats. But, what could I do? My soul-sista, Sandy, saw this number and immediately thought of me. Have I grown such an obsession as to create others resorting to supporting my habit? Gosh, I hope so. Because, frankly, I really like aprons.
Happy To Be Hangin' Out!
You, know…I can’t recall Kaukab ever wearing them. I’m not sure why? I think I’m going to have to ask her, next time we visit. You may wonder, ‘Why not just ask her the next time you talk to her?’ As reasonable as that question implies, it wouldn’t allow me the full measure of Kaukab’s response. So much goes into it. I want to be present to feel the full brunt of her words. Plus, I’ll be rewarded with bonus Kaukabisms just for asking, what will surely be, a ‘stupid’ question. Trust me. I know what I’m doing.
In the meantime, I shall enjoy my new addition. I might even wear one in Kaukab’s honor!
This One's For Kaukab! Clink!!
I finally had the chance to don my new apron–a lovely gift from my lovely friend, Lilly, who presented it to me when we were back home in Cleveland for the Paramore concert.
I decided to try it on and see what incredible powers it would bring to me whilst I slaved in the kitchen. Less than a minute in, the kitchen became crowded with curious onlookers–various family members gawking and questioning my apron time.
What was a lady to do?
Me and My New Apron
That’s right. Enlist “driver boy” to shoot some photogs of mom having super-fun time with her new apron.
Drummer boy crashes my little party.
Facebook vs. Mom. Game-Facebook.
I don’t know why he bothered to show up.
A New Addition
My daughter proudly hung a pretty, little pink apron alongside her mama’s little collection of such. Funny, how something given to her by her dance teacher years back can have new meaning to her now. The apron was given to her to use as part of a colonist outfit in one of her dance recitals. Her teacher allowed her to keep it afterward–totally uncharacteristic at the time. Anyway, my daughter, apparently, kept it and dragged it along with us when we moved to West Virginia five years ago. Now, it hangs proudly alongside the other treasured aprons in this city-girl’s kitchen. P.S. Last week I found a sweet apron with fabric displaying tiny strawberries and polka dots, all in various shades of red and pink. It was only ten bucks! Alas, I managed to talk myself out of it. It had felt like such a splurge at the time, even though my gut knew better. I wished I had listened to my gut. I’m thinking about going back to see if it’s still there. If it is, it’ll mean it was meant for me, right?
Those are my hands, and my new snazzy 1940’s-ish apron that I bought for myself a few weeks before cooking up a wonderful Christmas dinner–a portion of which is being held by said hands. I got one just like it (the apron, not the hands) for a my dear childhood friend, and the deal was was that we’d each take a photo of ourselves, in our aprons, our lips swathed in 1940’s red lipstick. I wanted to put my hair in an updo, but by the time I had remembered the deal, Christmas dinner had already begun. I made everyone at the table wait until I hurriedly ran up to the bedroom to locate some 1940’s red lipstick and donn my adorable June Cleaver-apron. Then we ate.