"Goddess" for a Day!

Remember this photo?

Well, guess what it earned me? A "Goddess" designation. That's right. You are looking at an "Apron Goddess." You may now be appropriately awed. I am disproportionately odd. But I'm still the feature of the day at The Apron Goddesses.

This is a site I have greatly enjoyed. It's usually about very talented people who wear and make the cutest aprons in the world. I have no talent. So I wondered why I was hanging out there. I have been known to throw away whole patterns still firmly pinned to scattered pieces of fabric. A dear seamstress friend, Crystal, told me it was okay to do this (as a last ditch measure and in an attempt to free myself from sewing guilt) if things went horribly south and the project couldn't be saved. Uh, well, that's all I needed to hear.

Sewing machines become possessed in my presence.

Do you realize there is a device on a modern sewing machine that allows you to adjust the tension? It doesn't make any difference. I turn it all the way down and I'm still a nervous wreck. My bobbins leap out of their holders. I've broken more needles than I ever actually sewed with. The thread pile in one square inch of material, when I'm done attempting a straight line of stitching, is large enough for a small bird to live in, give birth, and raise a family.

I did manage to turn out a few sleeveless dresses for Bo when she was around two. Small successes frequently cause me brain damage. Consequently, I got this horrible idea I could make mySELF a dress. Naturally, with "Bingo Wings," as Ladybird World Mother calls them, it wasn't gonna be sleeveless. Yes, Virginia, I truly believed with my giftedness at the sewing machine, I could actually make a dress with arm coverings. How is it you can cut out a sleeve (which is supposed to attach to the body of a dress) but it is several feet larger around than the hole it's supposed to fit into? After several attempts to marry this mismatch, I gave the whole ratty pile a proper burial in the garbage bin and kicked it to the curb. Then I put my feet up, grabbed a latte, and I might have switched on Martha Stewart just to swear at her. I'd like to think I didn't. I prefer to believe only the best about myself and am rarely influenced by facts.

But the lovely folks over at The Apron Goddesses are not given to these fits of temper and irrationality. They actually LIKE to sew. And they are always making the cutest things. All I do is buy well. And I BOUGHT my oh-so-cute plastic apron. And it is highly functional, required no sewing on my part and, therefore, keeps me from swearing. If I ever did. Which I'm SURE is unlikely being the sweet, gentle, demure darling I am.

Please go have a look. People over there sell, too, if you're looking for something in particular. You can also find where I bought my apron. Don't mention any of my bad qualities, please. They might not let me hang out with them anymore.

Copyright 2009

Ape Runs - News at Eleven

THIS is a happy woman! Just LOOK at that cute apron. Do NOT look at the following items:

1. Wayward garden hose under feet.

2. Empty LARGE pot that should have flowers, or at least weeds.

3. Pitiful, nearly non-flower bed right behind me.

4. Driveway and sidewalk with leaves blown all over. (Don't call me if you want to stage photos of your home.)

5. 500 mosquito bites on legs. It was mosquito Thanksgiving yesterday and I didn't get the memo. The party raged on until they were all drunk. It was complete debauchery. I'm not attending next year.

But DO notice this really spiffy apron I'm wearing. I ordered it from "A Georgia Farmwoman" at Life On a Southern Farm. She makes them out of feed bags and they are plastic. I have been SERIOUSLY wanting a plastic apron. I blew the last one out and it just couldn't be saved.

And, frankly, life has been detestable without a plastic apron. Desperate, despicable, desolate, dire.

Or maybe just damp.

I have to bathe dogs, wash a car, and occasionally, when we run out of paper plates, I have to wash dishes. So I love plastic aprons.

And this apron, THIS apron was made by someone I admire for her practical farm skills and kind ways. (And I have two other VERY SPECIAL aprons made by my sweetie friend, Diane, who is an apron maker extraordinaire. And the truth is, one of those aprons is Hannah-Bo's. And I borrow it all the time whether she wants me to or not. And this is the same Diane who drove all the way across town to celebrate Hannah's scholarship with us while wearing an apron. A DARLING apron. That's why we're friends. We might both be buried in our aprons. But not while we're still alive.)

And if you click on the photo and see the full size you will be frightened by my face looming into your screen. When you are over that, look at what the apron says: Pen Pals! How did she work THAT out?

Don't you want one now? Maybe I should have gotten two. You're probably gonna buy them all up.

Copyright 2009