Aprons were always part of the uniform in my table-waiting years, and I'd learned then of their usefulness. I've gone back and forth with wearing them though, during my adult years. If you are wearing an apron, it means you are doing housework. And since I hate housework, I prefer to act like it doesn't exist-- an apron is a cruel reminder of the incessant cycle of cleaning and dirtying and cooking and repairing. It seems that once you start wearing aprons, however, can never go back to life without them. Well you can, but you trousers get dirty quite quickly from the incessant hand wiping (being a waiter in a busy restaurant teaches you all sorts of bad habits). I'm currently back on an apron-wearing kick. But I have run out of aprons, as the old ones I got when I moved out of my parents' house 14 years ago finally had all ripped or disappeared. I do have one Christmas one left, but I'm not ready for poinsettias and holly just yet.
So I set out to make some more. I have about 4 apron patterns around here, some borrowed from my mom and a couple I've acquired over the years too. I do dream of making myself a couple of Lucy Ricardo aprons, but in really wacky prints. But what do I do when I go to sew one today? I decided to invent my own pattern on the fly, by recycling one of Mr. Deplume's old denim shirts. It's been said (usually by me) that I rarely do anything the easy way. And today's sewing escapade certainly bears that out.
However, after an hour or so of guesswork (45 minutes of that also included prayer), I ended up with a usable apron. There are pockets, ties, and the bottom three buttons are still functional, in case I ever want to make it a split apron (handy for more strenuous housework). I'm pretty pleased with myself.
I hope that if I make another one, it will take considerably less time. That's how it is supposed to work, right?