Every December I remove the vintage towels that hang here during the year and replace them with these cross stitch towels my mom made in the early 50's. The stitching and thread color is like new and the little rhinestone she added at the top is still holding on. I love them just the way they are.
I wasn't laughing at the wrinkles that will not iron out.
I wasn't laughing at the stain or the stiffness from the old starch. I was
laughing at myself. Questioning my sanity, or at least my eyesight.
The last time my friend Pam and her daughter Leah were here, they both commented on my pretty towels. There was a friendly sarcasm in their comment which soon turned to laughter. They weren't laughing at the towels I usually have hanging there, they were laughing at my Merry Christmas and Happy New Year towels because....
it was March. Not early March, but late March and way past the legal grace period for taking down holiday decorations. I use this room every day and clean it on a regular basis (I do, I really do). They weren't hanging there because I was procrastinating about putting them away, they were still hanging there because I never noticed them. How scary is that?
I asked my sons and Mr. MST about them, but they just thought I wanted them there. After all these years they've learned not to question my decorating decisions.