It’s December. JJ Vincent has just realized that it’s December, and what that means.
Let me say this up front. I love the holidays. By about December 15th, I could do without the 151,578th replay of Jingle Bells, and I’m already tired of singing-dancing-rapping HamsterSantaMouseElves (which this year seem to be motion-activated). But the lights and the trees and the ornaments and the glitter and and the sparkle and the bells, doesn’t matter if it’s 90 degrees out or 30, it’s crispy and festive and fun and joy. I’ve got a few grinches around me, and in the spirit of the holiday I refrain from telling them to zip it and let me (the the other people around them who have to listen to it) enjoy it.
I’m a crafter. And about this time, people realize that they want gifts for people. The turkey haze is gone, and reality is settling in. With this year’s schedule, they have about three weeks to sort this out. And more and more, they’re thinking outside of the big box, which is wonderful.
And this wonderful is why the crazy in my life has just landed.
This is when I realize that there aren’t enough hours in the day. When I realize that my single biggest hope, in any given moment, is that my sewing machine WON’T DIE. That my back-up machine WON’T DIE. That my mom will surrender her machine if I beg hard enough, and that it WON’T DIE. When I ponder how to g-chat with my girlpartner and cut fabric at the same time. When I look at the pile of scraps growing next to my sewing table and realize that I’m going to need another storage box – or another room – for them, because I cannot throw them away.
It’s when I count the ornaments that I’ve made and realize that they are not selling as fast as last year, and wonder when the dam is going to burst and I will be pressing everyone I know with fingers into service, or if it’s not going to happen this year and I will have stock for years to come. When I am exceedingly grateful for my Fiber Fairy, and I tell her that I will drive ANYWHERE to get my goods, because if that dam bursts I’m going to need every scrap her alpacas can spare. When I look at my loom and try to time those two commissions into my schedule. When I look at the Wall of Yarn and realize that it will be hibernating this year.
It’s when I become very glad that every piece of clothing that I own matches and I don’t wear contacts, because those two things save me 6 minutes a day.
It’s the time of year when I am grateful for Costco salads and goodies to top them, and crock-pots and casseroles.
It’s when I am very glad that my little hatchback doubles as storage for the craft goods and I don’t have to unload it every week.
And it’s when every week, I get to see people smile and pick up these things that you can’t get in stores, not just my goods, but the good of dozens of other crafters, and realize that not every gift needs to come from a big box store. They see things made by hand, by people who love what they do, who are in it for the heart, who put their passion on display while hiding the PANIC that kicked in then that dates on the calender changed.
Because we don’t worry about the people on our gift list.
Once the cranberry sauce is gone, we worry about everyone else’s.