One of my best friends made a comment about the box fan in the back of our 4runner when we went to Big Cedar. Yes, it's true. We cannot sleep without a fan. We haul it with us everywhere. When we first married, it was a running joke between us. He had not grown up with a fan and I had. As a result, I couldn't sleep without one. And since he could sleep with it, it was non-negotiable. Turns out, it only took a few months for the fan to be a requirement in order for HIM to sleep.

And not just any fan, my friends, but a loud, powerful, Category 5 tornado/hurricane-level fan blowing right on us. Kyle would prefer it blow off in a different direction, but usually he falls asleep before me, so once he IS asleep, I tiptoe over and point it back at me (us). He sleeps with his head under a pillow anyway, so it's not like he'll notice! I, meanwhile, must have air blowing on my face. And I usually have several layers of blankets tucked up as close under my chin as I can.

We work these fans. Hard. We buy one every couple of years when the motors burn out. Once, while staying at Sarah & John's, our fan died. We promptly loaded up and headed to Wal-Mart to purchase another one. Priorities, people.

Another Ashley staple is Blankie. I'm sure I must have blogged about Blankie before, but Blankie's importance is such that a second mention is in order. The Blankie pictured now in my posts (the pink one) is Blankie II. Blankie I, boy, what a history. It was presented to my mother at a baby shower before I was born. And it spent every night with me until a few years ago when it disappeared on a family vacation to Sanibel Island.

I cannot tell you how I mourned the loss of my Blankie. Blankie, the Original, was about 3 feet wide and 4 feet long and once contained an image of a plump elephant standing on two legs, waving about his front feet. This image had long since faded to a mere memory. Blankie was trimmed in a border of soft, silky material that was perfect for my fingers to rub. My mom rubs feathers between her fingers, I rubbed Blankie's silky edges. Something about the subtle vibration of the fibers lightly rubbing across the other soothed me unlike anything else. And after Blankie I disappeared, I would have phantom pains, absentmindedly reaching my hand behind the pillows on my bed searching for the familiar nubby blanket and tattered silkies.

I don't know how many times my Grandmother re-sewed the silkies back on, but it was numerous. And my constant rubbing would eventually work the silkies out from under the layers of stitching, leaving looping strands which would tangle around my arms and legs at night.

I remember in high school, my buddies would tease me mercilessly about this Blankie of mine which accompanied me on sleepovers, trips, etc. They said I'd never take it to college with me, of course. Ha! Of course I WOULD! And I did. And then in college, as Blankie began to look its age, I got more scoffing comments on it and I covered its ears so it wouldn't be offended. I loved Blankie. Velveteen Bunny, nothing. People asked me if I planned to hang on to it once I got married. No doubt. Blankie came on my honeymoon with me! Blankie had been to Europe! Every state but Hawaii (and only cause I have yet to go there).

A select few even know the story of how Blankie earned its singe marks and almost, ALMOST disappeared.... but was saved in the nick of time.

And then, suddenly, the Blankie fairy took Blankie home. So I was lost. The pads of my fingers longed to rub the silky edges together again...And one weekend at the Farm, as I was sorting through blankets to add to our bed, I came across a pink blanket with just the right qualities. I stole it. I bundle August up in it occasionally, but mostly use it to snuggle with ME at night. Ah, I can't tell you how good it is to have a Blankie around again. And this time, my friends, I'm keeping it far from any candles...