Helen Kelley | loose threads

    Just A
    Little
    Bit for
    Luck

We had spaghetti for supper last night. I set my big pot of water to boil on the stove and carefully measured the amount of dry pasta we needed. As I watched the long sticks soften and slide down into the steam, I thought, "Hmm, I wonder if that's quite enough for two. " So I threw in a little more.

Later I thought about my action. I am no Sigmund Freud, and I don't pretend to understand the finer points of psychology, so I wonder about myself. Was my act compulsive behavior? Why was I insecure about the first amount that I threw into the pot? Did I think I was blessing our supper by adding a few more noodles? Or was it just a silly habit?

As I lay in bed last night, my mind played over my daily routines, and I realized that there is a pattern. When I have filled my washing machine with laundry and the agitator has begun to churn, I always add a bit more soap. When I go to the grocery store with a shopping list, I always pick up one of each item I need, and then I often go back and put a second of the same thing into my cart "just in case."

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.

I save articles. I save ideas. I collect material to inspire me. As time goes by–and as I save a bit more and a little more–the papers pile up. I sort them into notebooks and file them on bookshelves already filled with notebooks.

When I go to the quilt store to look for fabric for a new quilt, I lay numerous bolts of material on the table. "I'll take three yards of that one," I'll say to the clerk. "No, no, wait! Better make that three-and-a-half for good measure."

I have plastic sandwich bags filled with little colored squares and triangles piled on my window sills. I always cut more patches than I need in case one of my patchwork blocks gets nipped or cut or is lopsided. I might need replacement parts.

I have small candy tins filled with pins. Pins are such inconsequential things, and yet, if I see a stray pin lying on the workroom floor, I always pick it up. I might need one more pin.

I have a whole collection of yardsticks protruding from a gallon jar in the corner. There are sticks from hardware stores and quilt shops and bank giveaways. You and I know that no one in her right mind would ever pass up the gift of one more yardstick.

When I have cut my fabric and pieced the top for my quilt, I chart my quilting design, beginning with simple outlines and patterns. Once I begin my stitching, however, I add a few details and then a bit more...and more...and a bit more. My basic quilting plan evolves into a riot of little stitches and far more hours of quilting than I had anticipated.

My basement shelves are lined with quilts, but I keep making them, adding one more and than another to my cache. Even before I finish one, I know that I will need to add another one, perhaps just a little one.

I have no idea why I always need a little more of something. It may be superstition or compulsion that drives me. I rather like, however, the idea that with each new endeavor, one more dollop–whether it be of spaghetti or fabric or a quilt–will bestow a little bit of luck. If I add the little bits–one by one–I will find that I have accumulated a feast, and I am indeed blessed.

©HK 2006