the magic carpet

I did it! I did it! I made a magic carpet. I've wanted to make one of these for an eternity, at least a year. What gave me the final nudge I'm not sure, other than I tend to turn to crochet when I need a meditative escape. Just rows, nothing else. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth until I get bored. Then someone gets a blanket out of it.

But this time I wanted a rug, and I wanted to make it with my kids' blown out clothing, and I wanted to make it in a circle. So I went here to figure out how to make a circle. And here to learn how to cut the strips and join them. Then I fumbled my way around and around and around the circle with their well worn tights and leggings, the shirts I loved but they didn't, the pants that split when they fell; I added stitches where the carpet seemed empty, and stretched it out like pizza dough along the way to keep the circle shape.

The toughest part? Getting over the horror of dissecting the clothes. It felt wrong and illegal, just like my first night out on the town after being sequestered inside for months when my kids were newborns. And I became fragile over the deconstruction of a few pieces. One navy dress in particular both my girls had worn, and outgrown, and I got teary every time the scissors went near it. I had to wait until the end of Wednesday when they were both driving me crazy and then I felt no guilt whatsoever dissecting it. Once I got past that dress, my scissors coveted everything, and I chopped with impunity.

When I ran out of material just shy of completing the rug, I made an emergency trip to the thrift store and finished it off with someone else's bottoms. Imperfect my magic carpet may be, but I'm thrilled I was able to make it from rags to stitches with my own hands. And now I plan to fly away on it. Wearing Jess Swift's boots, of course.