finishing what I start
I am going through a new experience that I feel sheepish about, even though I know I deserve it: a proper teacher's summer. No summer jobs, no stressing and trying to do childcare or gig work like I did for the ten last summers as a teacher. I just finally work in a state that pays me enough to not have to find a second job when school is out.
It was jarring at first. I filled it with a two-week roadtrip, which I had a reference for. And now I am at home and I wake up every day with endless possibilities, which was terrifying at first. Most days I have pulled out my notebook and charted a direction for the day: sewing, mowing, tubing, house projects. It's given me something really precious, which is time to finish what I start.
The Big Messy Quilt
I present to you, my first finished quilt that I started back in February.
It's mostly made of scraps given from friends, old duvets from the clothing-by-the-pound store, and remnants from the creative reuse non-profit. I also used some Ruby Star Society fabric left over from a tote bag I made during this winter's snow days from the quilt shop down the street ($$$!!!).
Up close, it's riddled with beginner's errors: points that don't line up, stitch-in-the-ditch seams that look like I was drunk behind the wheel, goofs and gaffs. I didn't press very much when making my blocks, and I kind of just thought: If I can just get through this thing, my next one will be nice.
And some might argue it's not a quilt at all! Instead of sewing it with batting, that white stiff "filling" between the quilt top and bottom, I sewed it straight onto a fleece blanket from the thrift store. I don't care for batting, and I learned that what I have made could be called a "summer quilt." So it is done, complete, messy, and very much mine.
In which I make another one
When the top was nearly done, I panicked at the idea of learning more new skills (actual quilting - sewing the layers together - and binding) so I procrastinated by starting another quilt for a good friend's upcoming baby. This time, I would Do It Right. I would watch Tutorials. I would Press My Seams. I would even sew three layers together.
It turns out this is much easier for me to do when the quilt is small and I am giving it to someone else. I picked up this hummingbird fabric from a neighbor, a lifelong graphic designer, artist, and quilter, at her moving sale. The design is by an artist I was mutuals with on Instagram, back when I was "known" and riding the weird wave of social media success back when it was fun (and it was fun in 2018 or so). The yellow and magenta are from the clothing-by-the-pound store, as is the flannel I used in place of batting and the light pink on the back.
I was terrified to wash and dry it, but it holds up. And the binding on 3/4 of my corners came out looking nice. I shipped it with a lot of apologies for the mistakes it's still full of, which my friend will roll her eyes at because I am just like this and she has her quirks and we love each other very much.
we all deserve this
The is something to finishing things. To having the time to go through that list of thoughts that start in "I want" and "I should" and end up on a shelf, out of reach. To have time to not have so many proverbial tabs open - a half-finished basement project here, two in-progress quilts going for months there, a state that fills my brain with clutter and a quiet invisible stress that dissipates when I declare something done.
I have time to figure out what I want to do. To browse that shelf of things that stress me out and clear them. Today, I picked up a sawzall from my tool library and tore down the rotting jungle gym in my yard. It was a puzzle of how to climb and cut and take it down carefully with a powerful tool on a rotting structure. During the rest of the year, this would have taken three days - even a Sunday is full of meetings and meal prep and laundry that I can spread out weekly now. Today, I finished it. I moved the boards into a neat pile under the house for garden edging, gave the slides and swings to my handy neighbor with a toddler, and even mowed where the structure had stood.
I took an idea that had been giving me clutter (and visually nagging at me, and really nagging when toddler friends want to climb up this splintery mess) and just got it done. Off the shelf. A little more space in my addled brain.
We all deserve this. At least a month of proper, paid, continuous holiday.