I have been domesticated, locked by the ole ball and chain. My dear, supportive husband wanted me to have a new apron. Something to represent me; fun, sassy, and a foodie in the making. Know what? I love it, it’s perfectly me!
What I did not expect to happen was the transformation. The life and soul change. Like Diana Prince spinning to become Wonder Women, my apron catapults me to the Top Chef elite. Able to crack eggs with one hand, grill a perfect medium steak, all while harnessing the exuberant energy of 3 mini “helpers”. With spatula in hand, I will rid nights of evil blah dinners, spice up simple servings, and end the prepackaged reliance.