Okay, I'm not here to alarm anyone, but I once stuck myself in the face with a between when I was quilting, and it drew blood. Naysayers be darned, quilting is indeed adventuresome, high risk, and downright dangerous.
Klutziness has provided my entrée to the family list of legends. I once loved to play outside, but the emergency room trips were beginning to strain the budget. I made the decision to be sports-dumb, which meant I would have to accept the ridicule of those who could maintain their balance on, say, the porch swing. There was no more pretending. When it got to the point that my athletic ability consisted of being able to get into and out of the hot tub without injury, I figured the health club membership wasn't really paying for itself anymore.
On the day I stabbed myself, I went downstairs with the blood draining from my left cheek to show my daughter and to tell her the story. She and I share the same gallows-type humor, and I knew this one would be a knee-slapper. We were howling! Who sticks herself in the FACE, for crying out loud? Flat out hilarious.
A friend was at the house that day, a clean-cut, perfectly normal Eagle Scout guy. He was aghast at our ability to stare Death in the face and laugh. He kept making these noises...."oh, no...oh, my...are you okay?.....oh, no..." It was silly. I mean, what could he do, anyway? Through tears of laughter, I could imagine his dilemma. The only tourniquet that would staunch the flow would probably need to be applied to my neck, and that would surely do me in. He must have felt completely helpless. Obviously the womenfolk were hysterical and unable to deal with the crisis at hand.
Quilt-capades are good stuff! We quilters flaunt our injuries with honor. We know funny when we see it, and we know real danger. We opt for unreal danger, like jabbing ourselves repeatedly on the underneath hand, rather than dislocating body parts by doing something pointless, like power lifting or yoga. A little bitty hole from a quilting between is the kind of life-threatening injury that makes sense to us.
I once spent 6 weeks in physical therapy after a self-imposed quilting marathon. True story. I love hand stitching. In fact, when talking about hand stitching, I pronounce the word “love” as “luhhh-vve”. It's more than the written word can accommodate.
When I plunk down to start stitching, it is tough getting me up again.
Addressing housework: “What dust bunnies?”
To the 5-year-old: “There's bologna in the fridge. Make yourself a sandwich – you won't starve. And stop being such a baby.”
Regarding natural disasters: “Big deal. They blow those sirens all the time...”
The physical therapy did me in. My perspective changed. I work out regularly now, and promote wellness among my fellow threadies. I'm thinking about producing the video Pilates Plus for Quilters, making me the Denise Austin of the patchwork set, but for now I'm spreading the fitness word instead of spreading the dimension of my silhouette. Keeping fit improves my creativity, my stamina, and prevents further quilting injuries. I will most likely live longer, enabling me to make more quilts. That's the bottom line.
Sticking myself in the face is still a stitch-and-a-half, though.
Copyright © 4/16/2005 Kari E.O. Burns
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