Christmas Rush
It feels like I never really learn. Somehow, each year I find myself scrambling to finish making all the gifts for all the people in my life in time for Christmas (and Hannukah). And each year I swear I’ll remember to start earlier next year so I can work on the gifts leisurely, calmly, and enjoy the process. Yet there I was again, hunched over my loom at 2 AM, furiously trying to finish this next set of towels with enough time left to wet finish and hem them. Why do I keep doing this to myself?
It’s like university all over again: somehow I never seemed to start essays or studying until the night before, and then plenty of sugary candy (I’m not much of a coffee drinker) later, the sun is rising and I’m still at my computer, hoping against hope that I’ve somehow accidentally made a time machine so that I can get it all done before the deadline.
Maybe I do it because I’m a master procrastinator, maybe tight deadlines are the only thing that keeps me focused long enough, or maybe I’m a masochist, chasing that dopamine rush you can only get when you’ve worked fast and hard and finished just under the wire. Whatever the reason, this year was yet another in the Christmas scramble, and that flood of dopamine when I pulled my last set of towels off the loom was as glorious as I could have imagined, so despite promising myself that next year I’d start making gifts in November, or even October, the truth of the matter is I’ll probably find myself in the same rush again next year.
At least I love making things. Could you imagine having to spend 8-15 hours a day doing something you don’t love (just kidding, we’ve definitely all done that… I’m looking at you my old retail job). This year was no different. I got to spend time on my loom, which is fairly new to me. Making so many towels meant that I got to practice things over and over and over and over again. I got to learn indirect warping. I got better at keeping my tension even, though I’m still not great at that. I got to practice making nice edges. I got really good at the hem stitch. I played with patterns, and my science brain was pleased as punch that I collected data along the way to try and figure out what percent shrinkage I can expect at each stage of the process. I learned how to make each towel roughly even to each other, which I actually only got right on the final set of towels so I hope everyone likes the quaint imperfections that make handmade items unique. I got pretty good at beating my weft evenly and at weaving in my loose ends.
The hemming was no less of an adventure. I got to use my new rotary blade for the first time, and that was delightful. And then for the most exciting part: I stitched the hems on my first ever sewing machine. As someone who has only ever hand stitched and can tell you how many weeks it takes to make an outfit by hand, the speed at which I got through the hems was thrilling. And what makes the whole thing even more fun is that my machine is a Singer treadle sewing machine from 1906 that I just finished restoring. It was my first time sewing on it, and it worked perfectly. Were my stitch lines straight? Not at all. That will take a bunch of practice on my end. But are they secure? You bet your ass they are.
So what’s the point of all this? I guess just to remind you (and myself) that despite the fact that each and every year I create my own ridiculous stressful situation that could easily be avoided, making gifts for people is so much more joyous, not necessarily for the recipient, but for me. Every year I get to learn more, try new things, improve my skills, and share my love of handmaking all sorts of things with the people I love. There’s nothing better to me. The big question is: what should I make next Christmas?
One of the Christmas towels in progress on my rigid heddle loom
