Helen Kelley | loose threads

    A Bear
    No Matter
    How He
    Tries...

A. A. Milne's wonderful stories about that rotund little bear named Pooh, who sat around cheerfully eating pots of honey, said it exactly right. I, too, am growing "tubby without exercise." Every day I wake early and sit down at my quilt frame, hunched over my project, stitching and stitching all day. I am hypnotized by it, watching it grow and bloom. It is easy to lose myself in my quilting and forget to exercise.

Ordinarily, I schedule a mile-long hike every day. About two o'clock, I put on my jacket and go out and tromp around, down one street as far as the grammar school, down the length of the school, around, and back. I listen to the whistles of the cardinals in the trees and the laughter of the small children playing in their back gardens and the hum of the cars whizzing by on the main thoroughfares. I love that walk. It breaks my fatigue from being bent over my quilt. I walk at a brisk pace, taking in the outside world, keeping my tummy at bay.

Recently I've become so involved with a quilt that I lose track of time. I quilt quietly, listening to the radio, and suddenly the clock hands have whizzed around and it is time to make supper. I have neglected my hike, and it is growing dark. My regular exercise has become "sometime exercise." I've got to get back into the rhythm of daily walking or I shall become "beyond-tubby."

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.

View our archive of Loose Threads columns.

Currently I am deep into a forest of trees. Those woods are growing around my little house made of white shirting fabric. Watching them fill out is mesmerizing. I tell myself, "I'll quilt one more tree," but when that tree is done, I know that I'll go on to another and another. I have to discipline myself to take a break from this thing that I love and go out and walk.

People who do not quilt express awe on how much discipline it must take to make a quilt. The ridiculous part of this idea is that it takes self-discipline for me not to make a quilt. Time was, when this house was full of children, that my quilting was done around their schedules and needs. In those days, children walked home from school for lunch, and I stopped my work at noon to make macaroni and cheese for them. I stopped my quilting in the afternoon, and like other mothers, drove them to music lessons and Camp Fire Girls' meetings. In between, I tramped up and down the basement stairs carrying huge piles of laundry. Periodically I neatened the house. My life was built around the needs of my family and usually I quilted late at night. Movement and activity were a part of my daily life.

Now the children are gone, and Bill's needs are less demanding. I straighten the house occasionally and cook simpler meals, many in the microwave. The quantity of laundry has shrunk amazingly. I can lose myself in my quilting. Life couldn't be better–except that I am getting tubbier and tubbier.

I accept that I am a grown-up and am responsible for myself. Therefore, I firmly resolve that I shall set my clock today for two o'clock, and when the alarm goes off, I promise to stop my quilting. I will put on my jacket and stride off down the street, breathing deeply and enjoying the sounds of the neighborhood. Just as Pooh and his friends rambled around his Hundred Acre Wood, I, too, will ramble. Maybe, with exercise, I will also become "untubby."

©HK 2006