Making.

For the last few years, I've tried to make at least a few presents for Christmas. You might remember a puppet theater, received a scented eye mask, or used a spice blend from pre-blogging days. Every year, I try to be creative, modern and challenge myself with something new.

For something really different, I yanked hard on the challenge cord and recorded a CD of poems for my poetry-loving Dad. I've had a lot of backaches from bending over the cutting table and it was, surprisingly, physically harder than sewing. I've also had a lot of mis-measures and mis-materials with making, and this was considerably more mentally exhausting.



Even more than that, it was the vulnerability of performance. Choosing a poem, interpreting it's tone, it's cadence, and speaking it in my own voice (and subsequently listening-I'd bet James Earl Jones doesn't even like the sound of his voice!) seemed so much more risky an imperfect seam. Should First Fig by Millay been more joyful? Did I read my friend, Fred Schmalz's poems the right way? Is there a right way? I still think the Ginsberg poem I chose sounds ridiculous. I question whether it was a wise choice, but the ridiculousness makes me laugh and that's real.



Dad said he took out the 'Lessons & Carols' CD right away and replaced it with 'twenty poems'. Blush. I am thrilled he likes his gift, but I don't think it will make Volume 2 any easier to make.