|
I broke myself.
There was an ever-so-thin layer of ice on the pavement.
Of course, down I went.
I am grateful for this lucky break.
Maybe I'll make two.
|
|
Out of Order
By Helen Kelley
I broke myself. I always wondered if athletics and physical activity are really good for the body since I know so many young people who have had arthroscopic surgery to repair their knees or shoulders following basketball or skiing accidents. But when my doctor recommended that I walk for my exercise to tame my elevated blood pressure and raging triglycerides, I could only nod my head in humble agreement.
This morning I repositioned the quilt in my frame so that I could reach the center more easily. I set out my gold quilting thread, my scissors, my thimble, and my needles. Then I put on my warm coat, my hat, and gloves, and off I went, to walk my prescribed mile for exercise. A cardinal sang for me as I headed out the door. The air was pleasant despite the low reading on the thermometer. I started off at a snappy pace, walking in the street since the sidewalks were crusty with ice and crackling snow. Automobile traffic was light.
About halfway around my route, I noticed that the sidewalk seemed clear of ice, so I shifted to higher ground. Had I looked closely, I would have noticed that there was an ever-so-thin skin of ice on the pavement. Of course, down I went. The whole affair was very dramatic. I picked myself up and headed for home.
Now my wrist looks like a sausage, and my elbow is downright cranky. My quilt frame sits in the sunshine, calling to me. The gold thread waiting on it shines lovely and rich in the sunlight. I had planned to treat myself to some quiet stitching time; instead, I am shuffling around this house with untied shoes, a throbbing left arm, and a hand that is swollen to interesting proportions.
Since I can't quilt, this may be the time for me to work my way through the pile of magazines I have been saving for months. Years ago when I broke myself the last time, I made eight star quilt tops. I rotary cut them and sewed them on my machine because I could do everything using only my right hand. Now I must think. Goodness knows, I am going to have plenty of time for creative problem solving.
One thing I can work on is a pattern for a crib quilt that I fell in love with some time ago in an issue of QNM (No. 352). It has a gingham dog and calico cat made of large squares and simple triangles, each creature made of a different wonderful fabric in the tessellating design. I can certainly pull fabrics off my shelves and fumble through them with one good hand. My cutting board and rulers should be easy to handle. It will be fun to plan the piecing arrangement as the ear fabric changes against the different animal backgrounds. I can lay out the pieces on the floor. My knees and legs are whole and healthy. I can stoop and bend without trouble.
Now I am excited. I am grateful, too, for this lucky break. My cooking chores are certainly curtailed, and I cannot drive the car. This fortunate accident has given me a good excuse to be utterly lazy and irresponsible. I can work at a leisurely pace and make funny, wonderful animals for my quilt, and if I am "indisposed" for very long, maybe I'll make two.
©HK 2004
Helen Kelley is a quiltmaker, lecturer, author, and teacher from Minneapolis, Minnesota. You can visit Helen on the Internet at her website www.helenkelley-patchworks.com or email Helen at this address: helen@helenkelley-patchworks.com.
Helen's book Every Quilt Tells a Story: A Quilter's Stash of Wit and Wisdom is a collection of two decades of Loose Threads. Now in its second printing, the book is available at quilt shops, bookstores, or from us at https://secure.tpli.com/VillageQuiltShoppe/QV_Products.asp. Helen will be signing copies of her book at our Primedia booth at the International Quilt Festival, October 30 through November 2, 2003, in Houston, Texas.
View our archive of Loose Threads columns.
|
