Treasuring.

I wanted to start this post with something cute about how enamored of the Alexander Henry Collection I am, as I know I've mentioned before. Yes, Alexander Henry is totally my boyfriend. But it's just getting out of hand. I think about it all the time. I don't buy that much, I guess, but I think about buying it. Just to have. Because it's delicious. You can't trust me around it. I try to think of ways to smuggle more home and not get caught (by my hubbers, not STEALING from work, heaven forbid). The prints get in my head and follow me around. I'll get a third of a yard or whatever here and there just so I can sleep at night. It's sick. I won't lie. It's completely weird.

I don't know. At JoAnn a few weeks ago I was (gleefully) cutting some Alex fabric for a guest who was grumbling about how you used to only be able to find AH and Robert Kaufman at the independent quilt shops and was all wistful about how they sold out and wholesale to the big chains now. I don't know where to stand on issues like that anymore. I personally am at once grateful and tortured by AH's deal with JoAnn.

Here, let's talk about something else. In this last batch of photos I just dumped off the camera, of stacks of coveted fabric, a maxed-out GC-card-worth of speakers and mixing boards, here's a new photo from The Cave AKA The Master Bedroom, version Lots of Dots Point Oh. We've become bedding junkies. I've always been a fan of the dot. Way too much hoarding and excess going on over here. Must be some kind of weird compulsive personality type we both are. Way too wanty. Get zen or die.