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#reverb10 – make

December 14, 2010
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When my youngest sister was a toddler, she wanted to be part of everything around her, not missing a thing.  She would often find my mother or me in the kitchen, climb up to counter height, and ask in her little-girl voice, “Making?”

Grinning, with her hands in whatever we were doing, she wanted to be part of the making.  (Now, she makes her own wonderful things.)

Today I’m responding to Reverb10 writing prompt #6.

I make a real dinner most nights.  I make cards that become handwritten love notes for family and friends.  I make photographs and stories.  I make birthday cakes that are not really cakes, more like sophisticated creamy desserts.

I make a home.

Last year, for Christmas, I intended to make a cushion for the window-seat in the kitchen.  The window seat – six feet long, two feet deep, atop a bank of deep drawers – was Ed’s brilliant idea when we designed the kitchen during our remodel.

He often sits there at the end of the day, keeping me company while I make dinner.

I wanted that to be more comfortable for him, so I set about creating the best window-seat cushion known to man.  First the foam, which had been in short supply since Hurrican Katrina – apparently most US foam manufacturers are in the Gulf region.  I found just want I wanted, dense and firm, at a shop in Seattle.

Then, I selected a beautiful sable-coloured micro-suede for the cushion cover, and some chocolate-coloured micro-suede for throw pillows.

And then I ran out of time.  With all the Christmas baking and a sick kid at home (Kristina had mono from Thanksgiving to Christmas), I just did not get the ingredients made into an actual usable cushion.

Ed was amused when I gave him a kit – along with the promise of completion – for Christmas. (You see where this is going, right?)

I really planned to get it made.  Then my sewing machine broke.  I drove around with it in the back of my car for a few months.

(Does anyone else do this?)

Then came the months immediately after Kristina’s injury.  When I finally brought the machine in for repair, I was pleased to find that there was an easy fix.  I was chagrined to learn the the fix was a new needle, which I had in my sewing kit at home all that time.

(Really.  Does anyone else do this?)

So, now I have a sewing machine in good repair, and a year’s worth of mending stacked up, and a kit present from last Christmas quietly suggesting that I might have issues with follow-through.

Last night, I told Ed that I want to make his Christmas present this year, but that I feel bad about last year’s present being incomplete.  (He was sitting on the bare window seat while we had this conversation.)  I wasn’t sure which one to do first.

“Make this year’s first,” was his immediate response.  Last year’s is already late – I think maybe he’s hoping to avoid yet another kit present.

So yes, there is something I want to make.  I need to clear some time for that.

Before 25 December.

I think he’ll really like it.  I do like making.  I also like completing.


Christmas calendar: this tinted lip balm from Lush.

3 Comments leave one →
  1. Dr. Kim permalink
    December 14, 2010 3:00 pm

    If I could exchange all of my started projects for money, I would be independently wealthy!!

  2. Jet permalink*
    December 18, 2010 3:54 pm

    If you exchanged them for money, would that mean that they were no longer taking up physical, mental, and psychic space in your closets, garage, and basement?

  3. Bratty Sister Nurse permalink
    December 21, 2010 7:21 pm

    i love your posts so much.
    i love how you share words and with each one i know more love in my heart.
    i love that you encouraged me to bake with you when i was little.
    sometimes when mum was tired after work she didn’t have much steam for my enthusiasm to participate in making.
    i know it was you who was an advocate for my participation with your words and with each one i knew more love in my heart.
    you encouraged me and included me and i know much love for making and also for sharing the process. thank you sister bear.
    i love you.
    and i love that you share words.
    sister eeeeee

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