Sunday, February 11, 2007


You may know it by one of its other names; blankie, afghan, quilt, ba-ba or binkie. My people call it a woobie (sorta rhymes with cookie). Woobies are very important to my tribe. Mr. Bee, Wee Doggie, Sebastian-the-cat, Sneakers-the-bunny, and I…we’re all nesters. There is nothing like curling up and snuggling in with a good book or the t.v. remote and a nice, soft, warm, woobie. So it is a wonder that it took Mr. Bee sixteen years to mention the fact that the woobies in our various nests were insufficient for a man who is 6’6” tall. He’s a patient man, Mr. Bee is. Lord knows it’s an attribute he’s needed and nurtured living with me, but SIXTEEN years?!?? Good Lord man! Speak Up! I am, after all, the woobie Queen!

So we went to Joanne’s to pick out some supplies to make him a custom-length, man-woobie all of his very own. Now nothing makes me want to crawl up in the turret with an automatic rifle like going to Joanne’s. I love my fellow humans on an individual, case by case basis and deal with them in small doses a whole lot better than in the bovine-like herds that are in that particular store every stinkin’ time I go in there. But Mr. Bee took charge. He picked out his top fabric (a groovy tie-dyed blue, teal and purple, pin-tucked, batik) and his backing (a matching teal fleece) and even stood in a cutting line the likes of which I have never witnessed outside of the madness that is the pre-Halloween and pre-Christmas rush. I got the batting, perle cotton and thread. Every single thing was on sale, so the Gods were with us on that count. We made it out of the store in under an hour which was a miracle given the mayhem inside. Nary a shopper was harmed in the process. I’m pretty proud of myself.

Got home, washed and dried the fabric, sewed it, flipped it, sewed the flap shut and tied it with the matching perle cotton and wha-la! Mr. Bee has a 2 1/2 yard tall woobie of his very own. He gave it a test run while watching a movie last night. He heartily approves- as does Sebastian-the-cat, who practically dove head first into Mr. Bee’s lap before the fabric had settled over it. Pretty good considering he's going on 17 years old. I’m telling you, woobies are a religious experience around here.

Today we have started spring cleaning. We did our room. I did the walk-in closet a couple of weeks ago so it didn’t take long. Did all of the cabinets and drawers in both bathrooms and Mr. Bee is putting up a new, curved shower curtain in the master bath. Feels good to be so productive on such a cold dreary February weekend.

My weeknights this week will be spent making Oreo Truffles for Valentine's Day at work and Knit Night at The Sow’s Ear. Yum! Except I won’t be able to partake this year. Oh well, it’s become tradition. I didn’t bake at Christmas this year. Seems wrong to not to do some cooking for Valentine's either. I'll just have to be wicked strong and resist. A package of ground up Oreos, creamed together with cream cheese, rolled into balls and then dunked in chocolate. Yeah...doesn't sound bad for you!


Mr. Bee said...

I feel obliged to point out that Molly Bee did, in fact, make a woobie for me before we got married. I also was sent a woobie by her Aunt and Uncle about 10 years ago. However, both of those have since been confiscated by Sebastian and Fergus. So I figured since no other animals needed a woobie of their own, I could finally have one for my very own.

Elizabeth said...

JoAnn's is a mad house. At least since they moved to the big new location, they have a lot more staff around than they did in the old place.

The woobie looks very comfy. Something like that might persuade my older son to part with his disgusting old favorite comfortor. Let's see, layer of cotton, layer of polar-fleece, layer of batting. Sew a giant pillow, flip rightside out, stitch up opening, tie to quilt. I could handle that.

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