Aprons, of all things. That's what I've been thinking about lately.
I went a couple days ago and finally chose some fabric to make a ridiculously-ruffled apron. I've been collecting patterns, too, but like always, I tossed aside the patterns and decided I'd just make it up.
I'm not a gifted seamstress. My sister is. She sews everything PERFECTLY. Last week she wore something to a friend's house that she had made in high school and it looked spotlessly professional. My sewing looks pretty cobbled together and like I got sick of the project before it was finished.
Anyway, I'm cobbling together this apron and I want to make about eight ruffles running across it in all different colors. But my thread keeps breaking because it's about 25-plus years old. I said several words in a row, several times, that I shouldn't have. Probably hurt my little wiener dogs' ears.
Then yesterday, I went and bought new red thread. I wanted to sew today but had to work finding pictures for a bank we're working with at the shop and then I have to make a strawberry-banana pie for a meeting tonight.
And, I have to make this pie without my new ruffled apron on.
If I could have worn my apron when I made my pie, I would have felt like Grace Kelley.
Or even someone better.
Like my mom -- the world's ABSOLUTE BEST PIE MAKER!
Instead, I just feel like a jittery, tired, overwhelmed, bumfuzzled housewife who is not nearly desperate enough to even be the slightest bit interesting. Kind of like that old Martha Stewart. Except without the makeup.