Disclaimer: As an adult female, the word in the title always reminds me of a violent act. In fact it has nothing to do with that act. For a few summers when I was a beach urchin, our friends the Shermans came to visit for a couple weeks, parking their VW bus and popup camper in our yard, collaborating on meals, and sharing our outhouse with us. There were five kids in that family and the youngest was Willie. At about the age of three, his aspirations in life involved growing up to be a mommy and wearing a “rapern”, which was how he pronounced “apron”. He didn’t grow up to be a mommy but he did marry and was/is a good father by all reports. I really miss those days sometimes. We had SOOOO MUCH FUN!

The Commander was a champion apron wearer and made most of her own aprons. I never quite got the knack of apron-wearing but then again, I usually cook in crappy old clothing that can be easily thrown in the washing musheen. That’s what washing musheens are for, roight?

The beach urchins emulate their grandma’s penchant for wearing aprons and in light of that, I kept all of her aprons and they hang in the moomincabin “hallway” for anyone to use.

For a few years back in the day the cFam invited my brother’s widow and kids to the annual xmas party. The one we aren’t doing AGAIN this year because you know why. During that time we were also still exchanging gifts, a tradition we eventually abandoned because none of the adults needed anything. We were all flinging and would rather hang around, gabbing and drinking (responsibly of course). Grandchildren got gifts from their grandparents so there was a gift-opening session to add to the festivities.

But back then, I needed to come up with gifts for my side of the family (which was fine!) and one year I made aprons for my daughters and nieces. I had a great deal of fun with this, creatively (I thought🐽) using mis-matched fabrics for different parts of the aprons, the skirt, the waistband, the straps, and a ruffle along the bottom. The pic (it’s not the best pic) is my blueberry version, probably for Mouse, who likely has the most blueberry picking DNA of any of my parents’ four granddaughters.

This is making me want to do fiber arts stuff again. I will get there…

This entry was posted on Wednesday, December 15th, 2021 at 6:49 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.