Running with Scissors

Running with scissors

My name is Judy, and I'm a recovering Aichmophobe. ( Aichmophobia is technically the fear of needles and sharp objects. Of which I'm really not afraid. Unless the needle is in a sewing machine. I searched and was unable to find a word for Sewmophobia.) But again, I'm not really worried about the needle, though I am very concerned about what I'm supposed to do with it!

I am my father's daughter. I just spent 2.5 hours rewiring both the 240v outlet and the air conditioning unit that give the dogs in my rescue a cool place to be during this unusual heatwave. I am the President, Chief Rescue Officer, and Chief Foster Officer of the Dixon Animal Protection Society in Dixon, New Mexico. (This will be important if you are wondering what it has to do with sewing.) The A/C was out due to one of the dogs chewing the power cord. That, in turn, shorted out the outlet, which then caught fire. Both the dog and deck on which the outlet box is mounted are fine.

My dad was the quintessential DIY guy. He let me "help" anytime he was doing a project, and I am eternally grateful for all he taught me. I can paint a house, lay tile like a pro, handle essential electrical work or car repair, even lay brick, with little concern for the outcome. As a single woman, I can tell you they have all come in handy.

This brings me to mom. Like Maria Von Trapp, she could pull the old curtains off the rod in the morning and have new outfits for us by afternoon! When my Grandfather, her father, remarried, we were on a tight budget, as my dad had recently started his own business. My sister and I needed a summer dress to go to the wedding. Mom went to the attic and grabbed a cotton popcorn knit dress of hers, chopped it up, and made matching sleeveless dresses for us. Like magic. My sister's dress she dyed pink and mine yellow. At that age, I hated pink, so my color was yellow. Always yellow. I probably chose it, so I can't really complain much. Better than truly matching!

When I was a little older and in Girl Scouts, we had a sewing Merit Badge. It was the last Merit Badge I wanted to add to my sash. I much preferred fire building or animal husbandry. My mom was excited to teach me, but I was loathed to learn. Instead of bonding and learning together we were both frustrated to tears. Here's a quick example of my sewing prowess- I am 5'3" tall, the tallest woman in my immediate family. Every pair of pants, save jeans where numerous lengths are available, had to be shortened. Mom gave me a quick tutorial on hemming. How hard could it be? A hem is a few pins and a straight line stitch, right? I sewed the bottom of my pants closed!

For my Merit Badge, I chose a drawstring bag and an apron. I could do the straight lines. That was not exactly what they expected to earn the Badge. But, with a bit of a chat with my mom, they let it go. I did too.

In my 20s, I gave sewing another go. There was a chance that the skill was genetic, and I just hadn't given it enough time to be revealed. I made my own clothes for about six months but gave up in frustration. I had moved away so getting help from my mother wasn't possible. With my Advertising Job and skating practice, I had no time for classes either.

Over the years, I made simple things like curtains, pillows, and seat cushions-straight lines! I could do that, and reasonably well. I made costume parts and props for my skating students and myself. I can alter or remake an item; I had branched out! Still, sewing was just out of my reach, and it frustrated me.

Two years ago this September, I received a call from our local Co-op Market that a couple of boys had found a box of kittens dumped at the Post Office. I dropped what I was doing and picked them up. They were tiny babies barely three weeks old. There were three all-black kittens and one tabby who was half the size of the others. I named the little one Tiny Tim. He had a broken spine with atrophied hind legs; he was semi-paralyzed.

Tiny Tim's story is a remarkable one, and I will not tell it here as we are in the process of writing two books, a children's book, and a young reader, to tell his story. As we worked through the project, we decided to produce a weighted stuffed Tiny Tim doll. I had assumed my Editor/Illustrator and partner in the project would do the sewing-she had to better than I was! When I asked her if she would sew, she said, "Oh no, no, no, no." "You'll have to do it."

Oh no.

Panic set in. I didn't know how to sew a stuffed animal. We were heading into the Pandemic, so working with someone else was not an option, plus we had no way to pay someone to sew for us. Eventually, we hope to start a sewing cooperative to make the Tiny Tim dolls. For now, I was in the hot seat. I had to remember to breathe and that it would be OK.

I dived into the research. What did we want it to look like? Materials? Size, weight, etc. So many questions! I found numerous fabrics to try, found a pattern I could adapt, and jumped in. Some of the materials were quite heavy and difficult to cut. I had a pair of nice but inexpensive scissors I'd picked up at the fabric store on sale. I thought I'd gotten a real bargain. It was frustrating, to say the least. I knew I was sewing challenged, but I apparently didn't know how to cut fabric either.

It was close to the Holidays; I was on the phone with my mother, telling her about the project. I knew what a kick she would get that I was sewing! Me, sewing! She laughed and asked how it was going. I told her it was actually going well. I learned about putting a pattern together, finding beautiful fabrics, experimenting with naturals dyes, and honestly, finally getting better at sewing. The real problem I was having was cutting the fabric. The sale scissors I'd bought were fine for the lightweight materials, but I was struggling mightily with the heavier ones. So, when she asked what I wanted for Christmas, I said, "A good pair of scissors!" Of course, she laughed. Then said, "Well, you know scissors are like skate blades." We both laughed. Yes, they are! The less expensive ones do not hold their edge. I was a competitive Ice Dancer; I now coach skating and sell boots and blades and sharpen them for my customers, so I truly know it well.

In just a couple of weeks, my gift arrived. I opened it immediately and marveled at the size and construction. They were substantial but not heavy. Polished to a mirror shine and looked like they meant business. My mother had sent two pairs of Fiskars finest. When I gave them a test run, the large shears almost made me teary. They cut even the heaviest of fabric with ease. I was astonished, but not surprised, by how good they were. The second pair were tiny detail scissors, perfect for cutting ears and other small parts. Small, pointed, and precise. Included in the box was a sharpener for quick edge freshening between professional sharpenings. The daunting task of producing prototypes was suddenly much less daunting! And like my skate blades, I won't be going for the bargain bin ever again.

After 10 prototypes, we have our basic weighted stuffed animal design. I no longer dread the cutting phase. One of the tools we will discuss as we organize the sewing co-op will be scissors for sure. Perhaps others already know?

There is a saying about the little things in life really counting. Something as simple as a great pair of scissors not only made my job easier, it connected me to my mother in a way we couldn't before.

Thanks for the Fiskars, mom! I won't run with them, I promise.

But, I will use them for the project and run with it.