There are two practices that have improved my quilting. One involves the iron that is on all the time I am in the sewing room. Like my mother pounded into me, it is always turned off when I leave. Engineers have addressed this problem by installing an internal off switch. They even went the extra mile by inventing an iron that you do not need to stand up after pressing. It has little legs that pop out, making it impossible to scorch your block. 

A good iron can make a frumpy quilt look great, and pressing in between steps is part of that. Piecing two wrinkled pieces invites mistakes. 

The second habit is called squaring. Trimming blocks to the correct size goes a long way toward a flat quilt top. Some of the more successful designs I make incorporate extra fabric along the edges for the purpose of squaring later. It only takes a few seconds to do, and even multiplied by forty two blocks in a top still comes to half an hour. But held up against the life span of a quilt, which I hope to be at least thirty years, it is a blink. 

The metaphor for creating a good relationship seems clear. A steam iron applies heat, which causes the fibers to relax. I can almost hear them sigh. They are practically in a sauna. Love is like warmth, and invites people to release tension. If I remember to add compassion at each step in my conversations, we can both let go of our internal wrinkles. 

Cutting off the raggedy edges sounds to me like cleaning up my words. Leave off the snark. Skip the shaming. Resist the temptation to judge. Good boundaries help us be our best selves, and we come together more beautifully. 

It only takes a few extra minutes to add love, and trim unhelpful words. As an investment in a relationship that I hope will last a very long time, it is a small ask.