Book Club Treats

Despite my love of reading, I’ve never belonged to a book club. I don’t know why I’m a lone reader, considering I know lots of women whose bedside tables teeter with books. Of late, I’m talking a year or so, I’ve often thought of The Apron Book as a unique yet perfect choice for a book club, but I’d done nothing to foster a club’s interest. Luckily for me, my friend Judy Parry does not so tarry.

Six months ago, Judy invited me to share my apron journey with her group. They arrived wearing aprons in honor of the subject of their choice read. Dave, Judy’s good natured husband, took this photo for me:

I’m wearing a reversible apron, the pretty pink roses side showing. I think I tried on at least ten or so aprons before settling on this one. Choosing which apron to tie on shouldn’t take so long, but so be it. ‘Tis my albatross.

The unusual aspect to this apron presentation was the opportunity to share my acquisition of two traits: the art of listening and the every day-ness of writing…the latter the one element to a book for which there is no substitute. I’m often asked how I came to write a book, but rarely about how I write. The other unexpected treat was the refreshments – wine and cobbler straight from the oven and real ice cream. I love book club!



  1. I have this thing for roses – the scent of roses, actually. The smell reminds me of a beloved grandmother whose hand lotion was glycerine and rosewater. Two blocks down from me is a home with a yard enclosed behind a chainlink fence. On the lawn side are rose bushes of every conceivable color, their branches poking through the fence links. They’re the old fashioned kind of rose with huge, pointy-sharp thorns and so fragrant, when they are in bloom, I take forever to walk past this house. While someone else might be content with a sniff or two, I bury my nose in one rose after the next, inhaling the flowery scent and with each bloom, I recall my precious grandmother. This experience is short-lived, as the roses have a difficult time in the heat of the Colorado High Plains, but it’s a yearly ritual I look forward to. Funny how a flower can be so evocative with memories…like an apron.


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