When I was 18 or so, my mom forced me to deal with my t-shirt hoarding. As a teenager I had acquired approximately one zillion t-shirts from school, sports, church stuff, yada, yada, yada, and as I headed off to college she wanted me to man up and let some go.
To ease my pain, she offered to make me a quilt using some of my most beloved shirts as patches. I meticulously selected the shirts, we cut them into patches, and then we bought all the other fabric and supplies she would need. I helped her start it, but then I went to BYU, life got busy, and the quilt got placed in a bag.
My mom said that bag plagued her every time she looked in her craft closet. Apparently it became her Mt. Everest, and she just never got around to finishing it.
So, behold, the t-shirt quilt I received in the mail this week, 11+ years in the making:
Fun, eh? I've already broken it in with a nap, and it's really quite cozy. I love looking at the patches and realizing what was important to me at 18. Such good memories, and such a clever way to calm a troubling addiction.
My mom rocks!