"Take a Book to Bed" with a blanket

I used my favorite of the bookmarks Art Sparker designed for BOOK's a few years ago–– "Fall Is Reading Weather"––in the display of prizewinners I set up yesterday:

"It's dark out! Take a book to bed."

I didn't have enough of any one prize for a display; these novels won a mix of awards--Pulitzer, National Book, Booker, Nobel (for the authors), even a Newbery--with some nonfiction winners too.
The only one of these I loved, personally, was The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, by Sherman Alexie. (Oh, no--also The Warmth of Other Suns. Amazing!)
I haven't seen anything by Alexie since he was accused of sexual harassment in 2018.
. . . Oh! There he is--like so many writers, he's on Substack now (since 2022). I'll read him up later (maybe).

Yeah, so... Substack. Thoughts, anyone?
As the blogosphere emptied out over the past decade, I've wondered, "Where have all the long-form writers gone?"
Not everyone wants to write in short bursts or rely on images on Instagram, Facebook, TikTok, etc. (Is Twitter/X in its final death throes?)

It was only this summer when Deanna moved her blog over to Substack, where she continues as Revision, that I looked around there--and there many of them are, the writerly ones.
Some Big Names, including Alexie, restrict certain posts—newsletters, I think they call them—to paying subscribers. I get that as a business model... Like Patreon, a way to pay people for their work. But I want a free exchange by ordinary writers.

I don't know. Google is bad--the latest is that they've been paying big bucks to Apple to support their search engine, Safari--surprise, surprise. Substack seems (seems) livlier, more diverse, smarter... More independent (in business terms, I mean)? 

But for now I am staying in this backwater, where we blog about our laundry. (“Not all of us.”) I guess it's more my speed. Or, home + habit, which isn't bad.
Also, because I am so permeable, I fear that if I were around people talking intelligently in The Latest Terms, I might absorb them into my writing--the in-vogue groupy-think terms.

I want to be plainer than that. (Deanna remains so on Substack, but I fear I wouldn't.)
See? Look! Laundry, of a sort.
Me, below, in mirror (smudged already--great, another thing for me to do)––and a Faribo blanket by Faribault Mills--(for a while they spelled their name "Faribo"). I found it in a 1960s ad: "Pioneer... in the traditional Canadian style". I don't see that they make it currently.

 

The blanket is a little stretched out of shape, and no one has bought it at $60--too high for its condition, I realize now (and it's not a full bed blanket, it's a throw). I'll mark it down, and if it doesn't sell, maybe I'll buy it for my growing collection (I have three).

But for some reason, I don't love this blanket design.
I think maybe my mother had one like it... Yes, I think that's it!
And so, for my body's memory, that makes this blanket the opposite of what I was trying to describe yesterday--an object that gives comfort when held close to one's body.
(I am saying that ^ so clunkily--is there a name for it?  like "transitional object" for a child's toys, blankies... (I don't like that name though--so clinical. Also, transitional to what?))
Like an apotropaic, but for wearing (pin a holy medal to your bra strap) or wrapping around yourself.

As for laundering these blankets: Faribault says you don't have to.

"Wool is the original miracle fiber. It’s naturally stain, wrinkle and water-resistant, so our products rarely need cleaning. In fact the best way to refresh your woolens is the natural way: Simply shake or gently brush the woolens and hang them outdoors."