Posted in Quilting and Other Crafts
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In November I'm always hit with the
desire to craft. I want to make gifts for everyone - my family, my
friends, people I have just met. Many people, when they smell certain cookies baking or a turkey roasting are instantly transported to the Christmases of bygone years, but not me. I'm sure Christmas involved some baking in my home, but the memories I have are of my mom working feverishly away in the living room on some craft project as I would be heading for bed and the smell of Mod Podge, paint, or a hot glue gun permeating the air. My mom loved crafts and Christmas. They were synonomous in her mind. Several Christmases she painted hydrocal (sp?) objects (ceramics that are pre-fired and can be painted and glazed without having to been sent back to a kiln) as gifts. Other years it would be ornaments for everyone in our extended family. Then, of course, there was the afore mentioned "Mod Podge faze" in the seventies when everything seemed to get a coat of it and occasionally a sprinkling of glitter to finish it off. We made macrame plant hangers and we embroidered pillowcases and hankies. Homemade gifts were a part of her and to not make something for family members would have only happened if she lost both of her arms and was unable to manuever a paintbrush with her lips. When I was younger, I was somewhat embarrassed by these homespun gifts. I figured we had to make our gifts because we were financially challenged and, being a self-conscious junior higher, I was afraid that she was opening herself up to mockery. But secretly, I always enjoyed helping her whenever she would let me. It seemed it wasn't quite Christmastime until the craft projects were pulled out. I think it was during the time we lived in Austria for two years that I learned to truly enjoy her crafting. While we were there, we both learned to cross stitch from some Slavic refugees, I learned calligraphy from a lady that lived at the missionary base, and everyone seemed to enjoy making gifts. The Christmas tree had traditional European decorations on it: felt hearts or slippers, embroidered with flowers and hearts; straw animals with red ribbons; as well as other quaint ornaments. Toll painting was everywhere and my mom revelled in all of it. Many of my fondest memories of being in Europe are centered around craft times with the refugees and the ladies at the base. Now, as an adult, whenever the cold weather comes upon us, I long to pull out my sewing machine or paintbrushes. The glue and the fabric. It doesn't really matter to me what I make. I just want to somehow share myself with those people that I love. I finally understand why my mom spent so many nights working on projects until the wee hours of the morning. It was a little bit about money...but mostly about love. |
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