Warm

Hey, did you miss me? 

I’ve been away from Blogland for a while.  The things on my mind were not blog material.  I don’t like being super-negative and/or involving other people and/or talking about work.  So, when I’m not on here, you can be pretty sure it’s just because there’s lots of stuff on my mind, but none of it is really share-able.  Yes, I DO have a filter.  Surprise.

So, unless you want boring crap about how cold it is and what I’m making for dinner, just wait.  Something will come.  But yeah, it sure is cold.  Nice to have a blanket or two around to curl up in.  I’m appreciating my duvet, pre-warmed by a trio of cats, and my flannel jammies on these cold nights, for sure.

If you’re on my facebook, you may have noticed that I’ve been thinking about blankets lately, and the idea of blanketing, and what it all means.  It started at Christmas.  Last year, I made this ridiculously huge blanket, mostly because little squares are a good take-along project.  It got OUT OF CONTROL.  It was meant to be a queen-size bed blanket.  Then it turned into king-size.  Then California-king-size.  Then…  well, I’m not sure if there’s anything bigger than that.  It’s a lovely thing, blues and greens and greys, but it’s a monster.

I decided hmm…maybe a Christmas gift for my brother and sister-in-law, who have a very cozy family indeed, and might fill and appreciate such a lovely, squishy thing.  After the fact, my brother told me he had seen the picture I posted on facebook of the blanket, and had been secretly coveting it.  Nice to nail a gift like that!  It’s a bedspread/cuddle-cover/fort-roof.  The youngest has named it the Giant Blanket That Ate New York.  They posted a photo of a blanket fort, primarily made from said GBTANY and another blanket that my mother made for my brother, many years ago, before she passed away.  It gave me a squishy heart-thrill to see that fort.

As I think I’ve said before, Mum was an excellent needleworker.  She made most of my clothes growing up, her own, and my Barbie’s too.  My brother will tell you about a pair of mittens she whipped up on a train ride with him.  Dad wore both his brown and his dark-green Mary Maxim zip-up sweaters on a regular rotating basis.  She could quilt, embroider, knit, crochet, mend…well, I can’t really think of anything in that vein that she hadn’t mastered.  Her “retirement job” after teaching was at Fabricland in Bracebridge.  She loved making display pieces for the store, and I think her employee discount meant more to her than her actual wages.

Back in the early 70’s (in the before time, poppets…), ponchos were the height of style.  I had a pink store-bought one, but my favourite was the crocheted granny-square poncho that my Mum made.  But, styles change, and it was relegated first to a lap-blanket spread on my bed, and then to a closet somewhere. 

When I went away to university, though, my mother took that poncho out of storage, picked apart all the squares, and incorporated them into the border of an afghan.  It’s a pretty ugly afghan, truth be told.  It is, however, draped over the back of the very chair in which I sit right now.  It is a Thing That Has Lasted, and stirs memories, and deep, inter-generational connections that something from a store never could.