For decades, this summer-weight blanket comforted me.
My mother made it, a diaper bag and a headscarf for herself (there may have even been a dress for me in there) when I was an infant.
Closing in on forty, it--like me--began to show the wear and tear only true love can impart. Split bindings, seams coming apart, the backing wearing thin with what looked like fabric's equivalent to stretch marks revealed the cold, hard truth. Raggedy was good and ragged.
Inspired by my budget-wise, domestic Goddess of a best friend here in Fargo, (HI, CRYSTAL!) I bought this luxurious-feeling chenille fabric when it was on sale for 40% off, used a coupon on the binding tape and thread, and planted my feet to take on an ACTUAL sewing project.
I got as far as the dining room window, holding the blanket to the light, when I realized there was no way on God's green Earth I, Laura Egland, would ever have the patience or skill to sew those rounded seams ... nor was I about to spend a month with a seam ripper to redefine them.
'Good thing my mother-in-law makes Martha Stewart look like a crack whore.
So here we are. My favorite blanket, restored to its former glory but with an, "I live in Fargo and it gets ass-cold here" twist.
I couldn't be happier.
Between my blanket and my cookie jar, I'm set.