Sort of Obsessed: Embroidered Dishtowels

For some reason, I've found myself becoming sort of obsessed with embroidered dishtowels. I know, I could have worse vices. But still...how many embroidered dishtowels does one need?

Most of my towels were made by my mom or one of my grandmas, so naturally I'm a little bit sentimental about them. For many years, I've kept some in the kitchen. I've used a few until they were ragged. 

Until last week, that is, when I came to my senses and realized that if I kept up this madness, I'd eventually have no dishtowels left. So I gathered them all up and amassed them in a dresser drawer. After I sort and count them all, I may decide to part with a few, although that remains to be seen. Dishtowel hoarding? Possibly.

As I've been thinking about embroidered dishtowels, I remembered this embroidery suitcase from my childhood. I brought it home from my parents' house but hadn't looked inside it until just a few days ago. When I was a little girl, my dear grandma decided I needed a place to stash my embroidery supplies, so she found an old suitcase, painted it brown, and lined it with Disney paper.

The suitcase held everything I needed for my (brief) childhood career in dishtowel embroidery. It appears that I made towels for Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday before hanging it up.

The paper has pulled away from the sides of the suitcase, but you can see how Grandma used elastic and thumbtacks to make little loops for each spool of thread.

I even found a teeny tiny pair of scissors, a plastic tube of needles, and the world's smallest pin cushion, complete with an elastic band to wear around my wrist. Priceless.

So maybe my obsession with embroidery is coming a little later in life. I may even pick up a needle and try my hand at it again. Grandma would be pleased.

jp