I've been known to hark back occasionally to previous posts. (Or maybe more often than that.) Do you recall the one where I told you about the furniture I fell in love with as a pre-teen? (Can a person "fall in love" with furniture? I'm here to tell you that this person CAN - and did.)
Click here to view my post from last year about the "Ole" collection by Stanley Furniture.
So - you knew this was coming, right? Guess what I found?!
A twin size head and foot board and rails.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQkV_uY3e4D9oDeUT8gatBsqAfkr7qi2TACMv6js-hRdCS9REuNz1jdvTCSuk4oemUqs0J30tcTFXKJlgcKkEp0wMU9EF287ekzfRietRhob6Q3Cog2_eGBgmdi_d3DDLl3msj_rLJ/s400/10-06-2011+004.jpg)
After I had it in the car, I started doubting myself, thinking things like:
"Is it really Ole - or is it one of the look-alikes?".
And, "Are you SURE it's really Ole?".
Because you see, if it wasn't - well, then I wouldn't really want it at all.
"But I could always sell it."
"And the price was right."
As soon as I was able to get on the internet, I checked my pictures.
And my heart sank, "Oh - it's NOT the same."
For this is what I saw:
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwvcSB1D0nRpsKfdNhXUql_FDqhpuYvH0X3rmENbbu-iwL0uti-3_k4fABrnElZAWfZkuqhv6Xh4sQcDFPLMjI6PoxKcxATSNIZ1uGu2nr8C4FT7eiMHnuyCONu_4dstqCfaPeESqsdvR4/s400/Ole+yellow+bed.jpg)
But as I scrolled down, I realized that the first photo was of the FULL size bed, which IS different. And that yes, indeed, mine is an Ole.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU9Lik5q9Vf5Pi4gvPshoNEexoju59Rl4mVj0ukS5hhollwvXhGzy48NDDYl9ArAcY_xwvaBectCUDTFnPX6b49c1fxd-7ZGmYk1qqcsMtuoUKV2H5WLL4Nljjhe0Mn04DgJbOhQPF6Yp2/s400/Ole+orange+bed.jpg)
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd7LHXnlaGUMMnG57ZnpFPj-gMdrxdlzcYADqCqIknyjH6GHbyVjcELLkBEYlfwMTzXhdcNxa_8eoy24FJPh5-TlaZeiTovTD_UWFGehP-a7r0tkmRwpBmNZbVzeraGexH2aQvv6XLX6Gc/s400/Ole+orange+bed+and+desk.jpg)
I don't even have a twin mattress for it, I don't have the slats for it, and - last but certainly not least- I don't have a place to put it, either.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisFPb9BKDosj4TL9rfBMbmGOjKy4_CPpyQmGA8u18U5lET_ruCKF0dT8vNTQsq1WpqFvtvxkOzthPJQYRotDpYv6MpQYPkDFa3m4uiwQjcbzRpyA1lZ5GfNlD1wtMkwCPT3fJVxzCN/s400/10-06-2011+002.jpg)
And my husband might kill me when he reads this. (He hasn't seen it yet.)
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZBq2rXZx7tK7W3jAKY_Ov9FWPwZ6F1BYE5lB05YLPU2VUKsFjF8AIHQ4SUrCfiISWyR1rtVsfJzQN-LgMjkBOOIBhkvdPdvklObs80ZuqLJZLgyJ3rp-GWlVGKCeG_2BcgqGa_D4x/s400/10-06-2011+003.jpg)
But it is only the second piece of this furniture that I have seen (in person) in about 40 years, and I absolutely, positively, could not leave it at the thrift store.
If you don't understand, I'm sorry. But I couldn't do it.
Because I am still in love.