Thursday, July 31, 2014

It's Only an Apron

I'm not much of a domestic goddess. I can't DIY worth anything and I don't really bake. I hate ironing, I don't do it unless I absolutely have to. I have found that most wrinkled clothing can be thrown into the dryer on the "Wrinkle Release" setting and come out looking pretty close to acceptable for wearing in public, and that's good enough for me.  I don't have a great attention to detail and when it comes to cooking, I kinda "eyeball" the ingredients and toss them into the pot all willy-nilly. I can't even count how many times a day my internal dialogue ends with a "Eh, close enough."

However, I do love to make mashed potatoes from scratch. But the mixing part is a tad messy. And I usually get mashed potatoes all over my shirt. Which is why a few years back when my sister asked me what I wanted for my birthday, I asked her for an apron. I had never had an apron before, and Jaclyn is always the best at finding really cute things on Etsy.

So, she came through and gave me such a cute apron for my birthday that year. It hangs on the back of my pantry door and I use it in the following circumstances:

1. Making mashed potatoes
2. Making something that involves flour
3. Cooking when I'm already dressed for an event and don't want to ruin my outfit

Love the apron. Love it. Very useful.

However, every time I put it on and turn on my handmixer.... I suddenly become hyper-aware of how housewife-y I have become. "I'm standing, barefoot in my kitchen, with a toddler tugging on my leg, and I'm making mashed potatoes. And I'll be 30 in two weeks."

All this to say... most of the time I still feel like a kid playing house... but every once in awhile I put on the apron.

The apron makes me feel like Betty Crocker. That's all I'm saying. 

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