December 2018


My making in December was a hurried, paltry thing.  It existed only in snatches of time, irregular in their intervals.  I’m not sure why that should surprise me.  My month was nothing but one sustained schedule disruption.  House guests were peppered among school break and holiday celebrations.  And yet, I always anticipate these circumstances and expect to keep a regular routine through it all.  It’s silly, really.  But, even amongst the general disarray to routine and order, there was some making.


Unhurried Wardrobe

We were able to get a few tickets to the Nutcracker at the National Theater.  The morning of the performance I had errands to run but I still harbored a wild, irrational hope of wearing a new Karma trench that night.  Sure, I hadn’t even bought the pattern yet.  But, I did have a pile of beautiful red boiled wool designated for the purpose.  So, the moment I was free, I ordered the pattern and began printing.

In an ending that is a surprise to no one, I only managed to assemble the pattern and cut out the pieces before we needed to leave for the ballet.  By the month’s end, I added only a couple of seams.  Still, I’m grateful for the jumpstart on it.  Having it lay in pieces in my studio means I can make incremental progress.  That, in turn, makes the whole project feel exciting and alive.



I pulled this quilt out only a handful of times this month to make my slow, inconsistent way through it.  Once, when I commented about my glacial pace, my son asked how far I would get if I sewed just one stitch per day.  We did a quick count and found that, in a year, I’d only cover a four inch square at that pace.  While consistency is certainly key, it looks like one stitch per day isn’t a sufficient solution.



In December I finished my first ever knit sweater!  But, not really.  The initial try on was less than a screaming success.  I fiddled with it a bit.  I added the buttons; wore it for an evening.  All to no avail.  No minor tweaking is going to address my misgivings with this thing.  I’m disappointed, of course.  But, even more, I’m undecided about how much effort to commit to attempts at correction.  For the moment it has joined my growing pile of garments that have serious design issues to be addressed.



My mending was the one sewing practice that remained constant, despite my frayed attention.  I suppose the consistency of the need encourages a consistency of action.  This month I mended three t-shirts, a skirt, a pair of pj pants, a bag, a bedsheet, two pairs of pants, a bath mat and five dish towels.