After finding my new-old chenille blankets at the thrift store on Saturday, it got me thinking. (I know, that can be extremely dangerous.) Joe's grandmother had given us an old chenille bedspread years ago. Hmm ... where is that thing?
It became an obsession. After searching through the cedar chest in our closet (and not finding it), I went into the attic (where I had to go anyway to reconnect the cable to our bedroom television that Joe's father accidentally disconnected on Tuesday). There I saw in my one labeled storage containers the bumpy chenille.
I wasn't sure if it would fit our queen-size bed, but it sure did. I love the pattern:
Inside the container with the blanket were 2 old family quilts from Joe's side. Here is one:
It's folded in half in this photo and I really don't remember it having the large stain on the front in real life, maybe it's the poor lighting. I forget who this belonged to and I don't know who quilted it, but it is old, frail, and of very fine workmanship. While we have small children, I couldn't bear to keep this quilt out, so I packed it up and stuck it back up in the attic.
I did a few other minor things around the room and hallway, so when Joe comes home Friday night, our room is going to look different from when he left on Monday morning. Surprise! (Maybe one time I'll paint the room while he's gone. Are you up for that, Kim? She's always offering to help me paint.)