The Touchwood Project

Lately I’m getting some concerned emails from my family in the US who worry I’m sacrificing myself for the planet, huddling miserably around a single light bulb, icicles forming on my nose.

Ha. I assure you, I’m far too lazy to make all these changes for some distant noble cause. Nope, I’m doing it first and foremost because I’m enjoying myself, a point which a little adventure reminded me of recently. I’ll call it “The Tale of the MacGyvered Christmas Gift.”

Like the hero of the 80s show MacGyver, about a peace-loving secret agent who inevitably saves the day with his Swiss Army knife, a metal tube, and a piece of gum, I was in a sticky situation with only a few bits and pieces to rescue me.

My problem was Christmas.

The Christmas challenge

Since Malcolm is the youngest of five, we’ve got a lot of presents to make, what with nieces and grandparents and stepparents and three continents to worry about. We’ll be with my in-laws down in England for the holiday, and I’ll be honest: I’m feeling under pressure to come up with presents that won’t embarrass me or break the bank.

If it was my family, they’d like anything I came up with, under the motto of “It’s the thought that counts.” But with in-laws, as wonderful as they are, there’s still that anxiety over whether it will be good enough, whether they’ll actually like what you’ve done or just wished you’d given them a gift certificate instead.

Oh and did I mention we’ve got a budget of £20 for all the presents? Yes, £20 for about 20 presents. A year ago I would have said it was impossible. But I’ve learned a lot of tricks since then.

Putting the plan of action together

My first essential tool for the mission: a ball of yarn I’d gotten secondhand for free.

Thanks to learning how to knit two years ago, I knew I could make something with it and knock off at least one gift.

Next stop: Ravelry, a website for knitters, where I found a free pattern for a cowl scarf. But then I realised I only had one needle that was the right size. In the past I would have just bought a new pair like these, which would have set me back £15.

But forking over £15 isn’t an option, so what to do?

Hm, could I make my own? A quick Google search and indeed, I can.

Going that frugal step further, instead of buying wooden dowels I scrounged around Malcolm’s woodpile that he uses to teach firemaking and stripped a stick with a knife. Then I sanded it smooth with an old bit of sandpaper lying in the garage. Perfect. Pretty as the bought ones and I can make multiple ones, saving myself £15 every time.

Onto the scarf. Encouraged by my success, I curled up in the kitchen next to the Aga stove, chatted with Malcolm, listened to the audiobook of Made to Stick and peacefully knitted. For an hour I just enjoyed the play of colour as it popped into view with each stitch and lost all track of time.

But then, whoops. I looked down at my tiny ball of yarn, annoyed because I didn’t have enough left to finish the project. I’d end up with half a scarf at this rate.

Now if money were no object, I’d just hop online and buy some more. £5 a ball and away I’d go. Instead, here was another opportunity to MacGyver a fix. Mulling it over with a cup of peppermint tea, I remembered some cream coloured yarn about the right size that’s hiding in the attic.

Raspberry swirl

Put em together and lo, there were stripes.

After another couple hours of happy knitting, I ended up with a snuggly, tasty raspberry and cream scarf, ready to be wrapped for Christmas. First part of the mission accomplished.

Knitting may not be your thing, but it’s the challenge that makes life fun. It’s finding a solution to each problem I encountered that excited me more than a trip to the mall or a spree on eBay could ever do.

It’s not all sunshine and roses

Lest all this happiness start to annoy you however, I assure you I do get cranky. Learning new stuff means you’re a bit of a loser at first. You’re a novice, and that means you often look like a dork.

It’s like this new bicycled experiment we’re on. I don’t ride much, I’m not in shape. When we were cycling into Stromness the other day for the first time ever, you should have heard me swearing as I huffed and puffed the 5 miles into town.

Legs on fire, lungs heaving after 2 miles. Then we hit a headwind and I kid you not, I had to switch to my very lowest gear of my 21 speed bike and we were on flat ground. I wasn’t peddling uphill, I was simply trying to move forward on a flat road, and you could have walked faster than I was going.

Cars zipped by and I pictured the drivers looking on, amused at or worse — pitying my slow, slow wobble forward. I imagined lean lycra-clad cyclists whizzing past to leave me in the dust, contempuous of my snail’s pace.

Still I kept on cycling, pushing one foot then the other, finally resorting to counting each revolution to keep me going. Twenty-four, twenty-five...Get to 100 and start again.

I saw Malcolm up ahead, valiantly cycling as slowly as he possibly could, clearly having little trouble but doing his best to hide it. Humiliating.

But then we crested the hill into town and I saw I was home free. A nice long road downhill, coasting into town. I had done it. And I felt really, really proud of myself. Like I had run a marathon or birthed a child.

I figured the next morning I’d be dying, but I was surprisingly okay. Even weirder, I wanted to do it again.

It’s never the right time

That’s been my experience of doing new things so far. At first you think you could never do it, or that it’s just not the right time. You’ll do it when the kids have left the house, when you get the next raise, when you can afford to, when you know exactly what to do.

You couldn’t possibly make your own Christmas presents! You don’t have the time, you’re not artistic, no one will like what you make anyway.

Channeling your inner McGuyver

But then you start. You’re awkward, like I was riding the bike. You run out of resources, like I did knitting. But then you adapt and you keep going. You get wiley, you devise a cunning plan.

You start doing it and you focus sharpens. Time disappears. You forget to snack or complain or feel bored because you’re too busy doing your thing.

Then the best part: you succeed! You make the top of the hill or finish the scarf and you’ve done it. You’ve won, using your wits and your determination. You’ve done what they said couldn’t be done and won.

That’s the kind of happiness I’m talking about. It’s saying you want to do something, thinking it seems impossible, and then doing it anyway.

It’s enjoying setting challenges for yourself and succeeding at it. Saving the planet is just one more challenge that each of us can take on and have a great time overcoming with creativity and an easy laugh.

When we’re our own personal McGuyvers, we get to save the day on a regular basis — and have more fun than any 80s action star ever did.

What are your MacGvyered projects?

What challenge have you faced lately that required some MacGyver ingenuity? Have you made something out of stuff you had lying around that solves a problem? I’d love to hear your stories, so please share them here.

Update: Inspired by Darcy’s and Kerrilee’s hula hoop and fly swatter MacGyvered projects, I’ve added a new feature below that will let you upload pictures of your projects so we all can get some good ideas on how to tackle everyday challenges.

Just click on the Add Photo button and upload a picture of your project!

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Tags: Christmas, crafts, Environment, frugal, happiness, personal development

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