So this comforter, oh this comforter. Chuck calls her "big heavy." And it's a perfect name for her. 

I got the comforter set at a catalog return store (NO, I ain't above it!) for FIFTEEN DOLLARS. Are you above a FIFTEEN DOLLAR, TWO-HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLAR QUEEN SIZE COMFORTER PLUS SHAMS AND DUST RUFFLE? Naw. I didn't think so. 

Blue Boy and Pinkie were my Grandmother's. She wrote my name on the back so that when she went on home, everyone would know who they belonged to. 

This is silly, but I have a story to tell about everything in this room. The side table to the right was something my mother made. She was a skilled woodworker at one point. For realz. 

The side table to the left, was something I got at an Alabama City Flea Market. It was the slummy-est of the slum type of flea market and I loved every piece of it. I got the table for FOUR DOLLARS. I bought it not knowing if it would fit into my front seat only, Honda Civic Del Sol, but I knew I'd cram it in there no matter what it took. And I did.

Yes, I know there is an ugly conglomeration of things propped up against my beautiful, gifted by my Aunt JoAnn, chest of drawers, but it was a small place. We did the best we could. And how about that painting of the family? Ohhhh, the benefits of being related to a painter (huffs of fingernails and rubs them on chest like I actually did something to deserve portraits of my family). Speaking of which...Craig. I hate to mention it, but Bo, poor thing, she's been looking at this painting and asking, "Where am I?"