The Apron Empire

I have officially launched my apron business, and I'm just waiting for it to shoot up to "empire" status anytime now.

As usual, my lazy butt procrastinated and I pulled one straight week of all-nighters to put finishing touches on everything for my big open house debut.

But I quickly found out there is one major benefit to this all-nighter business. Breakfast.

The morning after my first all-nighter, I was treated to what was probably the best homemade breakfast I have ever had.

Who says dudes can't cook?

Our operations manager brought fresh eggs from his family's farm, ham that a he cured himself and some good ol' bread and cheese.

(Yes, I was so dang behind that I only had time to eat breakfast on my ironing board. I took bites in between sewing seams)

From that came the best breakfast sandwich I have ever eaten. Ever. And anyone who has ever met me can testify to the fact that I am a fast food breakfast sandwich connoisseur. It's what I do. (And it also explains how my hips came about ... well, that and some unfortunate family genetics)

The morning after my second all-nighter. A repeat performance.

This time, a few more people conveniently showed up at breakfast time.

(Yes, I'd say it's about time we bought a real stove for the farm shop. This Bunsen burner looking operation just doesn't appear to be safe.)

Sausage this time. Yum.

These all-nighters really aren't so bad when you cap them off with 3,000 calorie breakfasts.

And they proved pretty productive, I got several more aprons done in time for my big day... Which, fortunately, turned out to be a great success:



I also launched my online store this week. You can check out my aprons right here.

My blog readers are eligible for a special holiday discount right now. Enter CHRISTMAS10 in the promo code section at check-out to get 10% off your order!

Come on people, buy buy buy! I would much rather sew and bug my husband all day than go back to a real job ;-)

Hillbilly Hunting Holiday

I don't have many rules with my husband. But there is one that I stand firm on.

No camouflage allowed outside of hunting. Let's be honest, the stuff is just plain hideous and otherwise unnecessary.

Let's not perpetuate the redneck stereotype that is often given to hunters and always given to West Virginians.

But it's opening week of gun hunting season ... so bring on the flood of camo.

And it comes in all shapes and sizes. From rubber boots (that are apparently reason to celebrate)...

...to fleece for the preppy hunters...

... all the way down to mini-camo for the little guys (who also require portable DVD players to sit still and keep quiet while hunting).

You know a women loves her husband when she is a tried and true, born and raised, New York City girl but will buy head to toe hunting gear from Cabela's.

That's dedication.

My only involvement in opening week is keeping lots of food and hot drinks out.

One of my favorite parts of this week is that one of our annual houseguests just happens to own a catering business and has a culinary background. Last year he fried a turkey that was so amazing I gained 12 pounds just looking at it.

This year, he cooked up a mid-week storm ... with steaks, barbecue quail, Alaskan crab legs and sausage. So my husband invited over a couple of neighbors to share in the feast.

And then somehow half the county showed up. Funny how those things happen.

Why yes, that is a camper you see in the background. As if the camo isn't hillbilly enough, these die-hard hunters decided to pull a camper into the farm shop next to the giant stove and set up a "hunt camp."

You would think the main motivation behind this is having the convenience of beds, or even a kitchen on site. Nope, these guys were most thrilled about the idea of having a toilet just steps from their tree stands.

Ewww..

Picture Proof

Remember this?

Guess what I found the other day.

Yep, that's my missing ribbon that my thieving husband stole.

 I found it tied around a bunch of knobs on a tractor.

 

What you are looking at, ladies and gentlemen, is some very specific (and expensive) ribbon that I needed for a project that as a result never happened.

Gross.

I still can't figure out the purpose that it is serving.

I was going to confront him about it. But then I decided against it when I saw him working on his planter.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words.

In that case, this one would come with a bunch of expletives. (Do you see that clenched jaw? Watch out, the man is having some serious difficulties.)

Apparently something isn't working right.

This would be a bad time to bring up the ribbon.

But then he has the gall to ask for MORE ribbon from my sewing room.

This time to rig up his planter.

Oh, that is it.

Is he for real?

Does he seriously not see that giant knotted mess of baler twine in the corner?

Yep, he sees it alright. But he would rather use my nice pristine ribbon that is so neatly wound on a spool than dig through that heap of twine (which I am sure is in a knotted mess because he probably didn't take the time to organize it himself.)

That's when I held my breath, counted to ten and got some scissors.

I will be a good little farm wife and sort through that twine myself.

Problem solved.

And no one got hurt.

Or divorced.