Aprons: They're Not Just for June Cleaver Anymore

I'm feeling a little Saturday morning re-run coming on again (oh, the laziness!).  Actually, I'm not just trying to avoid the work of writing up a new blog post.  No, that's not it.  Truly, I was inspired to re-post a little essay (first published on this here blog a little over a year ago) after being inspired by an on-line National Catholic Register article I just read.  Written by Jen Fulwiler, who blogs at Conversion Diary, it's called "The Apron: The Ultimate Symbol of a Culture of Life."  This article is both funny and thought-provoking, if you want to check it out.

Apparently, my apron wearing served an even higher purpose than I'd realized.  And I can't tell you how glad I am that the younger generation is finally starting to see what this old grammy has known for years now: THE APRON NEEDS TO MAKE A COMEBACK!  So without further ado, here is my very own paean to the most useful and necessary article of clothing in my wardrobe.  It is not nearly as awesome and profound as Fulwiler's musings on a wardrobe accessory that went out of vogue with the demise of 50's TV sitcoms and pretty much screams "vintage," but it's sort of cute.  (I think.)

**********

Thursday, June 7, 2012

An Ode to My Apron

I thought this vintage Good Housekeeping cover had my name written all over it (that is, if you substitute the pie crust and rolling pin for a bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough and a big spoon), because there are two things that I really, really love to do: bake, and wear an apron.

Actually, let me qualify that statement.  I do love to bake, but I don't love to wear an apron; I only wear one because if I didn't, every article of clothing I own would be stained beyond redemption by this point.  Although I consider myself a fairly neat person, I am a fairly messy cook.  I tend to spill things, tip things over, and splatter myself with grease.  I am truly impressed by anyone who can cook without an apron and not end up wearing half the ingredients on her shirt.

My second son is quite amused by the whole apron thing, which I don't understand.  He says I'm always wearing one--even when I sleep!  Not true. I definitely take it off at bedtime. But I do spend more time sporting an apron than most gals, probably; because even standing at the sink washing dishes without one is bad news for my clothes, so pretty much any time I set foot in my kitchen, I strap one on.  Son #2 and his girlfriend came to our house for dinner recently, and when she offered to make the salad, he asked me to get her an apron first. Gullible me--I thought she'd requested it.  I thought she was a fellow apron fanatic.  I realize now that he just made her wear it for his own amusement.

Son, what's so funny about an apron?  Heck, back in the day, most women wore aprons when they were working in the kitchen.  June Cleaver, for instance, wouldn't have dreamed of cooking without one.  Of course, June wore a dress, high heels, and pearls when she was making dinner for Ward, Wally, and the Beave, so she had a fancy outfit to protect. But hey, I don't want to have butter stains on my jeans and polo shirts any more than June wanted them on her dresses.

I need my trusty apron.  It's always got my back (make that my front).  I love it and I don't care who knows it!  So here's a little ode to my apron, a haiku--because that's the quickest and easiest kind of poetry there is, and I have to wrap this up so that I can go and ice a Bundt cake.

My Apron

I love my apron-- 

with big pockets, tied in back.

I wear it always.

(But not when I'm in bed!)