The Aries Ram–and I’m so pathetically one that my photo could be next to the sign in any astrology book–is notorious for not finishing things. We love coming up with new ideas or projects and pitching them to anyone who’ll listen (surprisingly, a lot of people do, because Aries can think of cool stuff and also, we will butt you with our hard heads if you don’t listen). After we’ve incited enthusiasm, we usually want someone else to do the work and follow-through because we Rams are off to the next Great Idea.
In the early 1990s, I finished some very significant things that taught me that I really can do it. But I backslide now and then, so I’m sympathetic to non-finishers–like Jandy in A Coventry Wedding, who isn’t an Aries but does share my affliction.
Sometime in the mid-nineties, when I finally unpacked and counted my dolls, I decided it would be a really Great Idea if they got all new clothes, especially since so many of them came to me naked from other people. To this end, I enlisted Lynne, who sews and is a longtime craft buddy. She doesn’t like to lay out patterns and and cut fabric, however, so once I found some patterns and chose a couple of dresses, I did that part. And then I got distracted Lynne came up with some crazy notion like, Why don’t we sew together, so I can teach you, then you’ll get twice the doll clothes!
I screamed on the inside, then for fifteenish years, those cut pieces got moved from one bin to another as I needed fabrics for other projects that didn’t involve sewing. Now and then I’d look at them and shudder, because I DON’T SEW. The patterns got wrinkled and torn. The fabric started looking like something Greg’s cat might have thrown up.
A few days ago, in some kind of ridiculous organizational frenzy, no doubt brought on by sleep deprivation, I was consolidating fabrics and doll stuff. Even though, okay, I do sew now, I had NO INTENTION OF DOING SO, at least not until August, when Project Runway resumes. I have other stuff going on, like writing and watching the drought destroy my yard.
Then I saw them again, those poor battered fabrics clinging by a few remaining straight pins to the pattern pieces.
I should just throw that stuff away, I thought. I can put the patterns back in their envelopes. Then I won’t be forever taunted by something else I didn’t finish.
A funny thing happened on the way to the trash…
Faizah and Tamala in dresses from McCall’s 1992 and Simplicity 1987.
Hope springs eternal for that half-finished cross-stitch project that’s been in the back of my closet since 1993.