A yearly ritual has developed in our house.
In late September or early October, the temperature starts creeping down toward zero, and it occurs to me that the boys need an extra blanket on their beds. That's when I remember that the blankets they used the previous winter were long ago sent off to the municipal dump and now I need to buy new ones.
Most years I've settled for some polyester monstrosity adorned with twee kittens or whatever I can find at Sears.ca, but this year I decided to break with tradition. I decided to buy blankets that would last more than a single season, and aren't made from recycled pop bottles and cost more than $20.
Last week we took delivery of our custom-ordered blankets from MacAusland's Woolen Mills in PEI. They are lovely. I'm not very fluent in the secret language of wool blankets (twill? felted? napped?), I just know these are not as heavy, nor as itchy as our Hudson Bay blanket, but they are just as warm.
Here's the forest green one selected by our 8 yo:
6 yo chose a purple one:
Finally. A purple blanket. He's been asking for purple bedding (because evidently the garish orange on the walls weren't stimulating enough) for years. But do you have any idea how hard it is to find purple bedding that is not trimmed with pink, adorned with unicorns or festooned with Hannah Montana's face? Answer: damn frikkin' hard.
When I called in the order, I impulsively ordered a lap blanket for myself:
Isn't she pretty? I call her Woolhelmina. She's soft. She's cosy. She's having an affair with my husband. Or at least that is what I deduce from the fact that he keeps falling asleep with her.
And so I have ordered another lap blanket it for him. He will be called Woolbur. He arrives next week.
(And yes, those are my feet peaking out from the end. Yes, I'm wearing Birkenstocks. No, I'm not a lesbian. Yes, they do feature heavily in my always classic impersonation of Natalie Merchant from 10,000 Maniacs).