I used to make so much stuff. I was always making, always had my mind in the making game. These days the most creative I get is shortening the smallest kids tankini into a bikini because her sisters wear bikinis and she doesn’t. Maybe because she’s five and doesn’t live in a trailer. Although technically camping in a camper is like living in a trailer, albeit for two weeks. So sure, she got the bikini. But that’s where my creativity stops. I even had to stop myself from buying cushions the other day. What kind of crafty ho buys cushions? None I tell you. The Janome is out, and she’s bought that fabric online faster than you can say feather down insert.
I fool myself in saying all the writing I do is creative. And I guess it is, as I am making shit up as I go along but it’s not get your hands dirty creative. Not that getting my hands dirty was ever my thing, But cutting and sewing and drawing and thinking out little things in my head and then turning that into something. That was something I did, like on the regs. I guess having nearly two years away from that life I once led I have hit that point where I want a little of it back. Today I cleaned my studio again, getting rid of more old stuff and empty containers of old stuff and cringing at old stuff. I used to stash and hoard, and now I am purging it all. I have one tub of mixed fabrics. I’m not sure why I am keeping them, I sewed one quilt in 2015, and it sat on my desk for two months waiting to be basted and quilted and bonded and sent. It got there after the baby was born, I never was like that. I was onto it. I was cranking it out. I was sharing it ’round. I was prolific.
I guess most people go through this in January. Everything is all about the fresh start. I have come home from holidays cleaning rooms out and rearranging spaces. I feel as though I am ready to dip my foot back in some sort of creative pool. I’m not sure what I’ll make, when I’ll find the time or whether I’ll share it. But I guess the point is that I have that feeling back, it’s been gone for a few years and now my hands are itching again.
I’m not promising anything.