There is an adage that shows up in my sewing room.
Think three times. Measure twice. Cut once.
When chopping up perfectly beautiful fabric to construct a quilt, this mantra has saved me from failures that were preventable. There are, I admit, mishaps I could not avoid. But a startling number ravel away before they do damage with the simple remembrance to triple my attention and double my dependence on rulers.
Take a pattern like One Block Wonder. Beginning with fabric that set me back twelve bucks a yard, I stack six repeats of the design, slice it into identical four inch wide strips, and then into sets of equilateral triangles ready for assembly. Mistakenly chopping one of those into three and a half inch strips renders them incompatible.
Measure again. Then cut.
Over the course of the pandemic there has been increased strain on many relationships. In the absence of face to face contact with people I default to dialogue confined to the wind tunnel of my imagination. Some of them atrophy into inner banter in which I perfect snippy comments. I became disturbingly sharp in my thoughts, as I volleyed a pretend conversation in which I was the winner.
But in God's mercy I held my tongue. One of the rulers that rescued me was the Golden one. When I was finally in a position to speak with someone, I listened instead. All of my fabricated arguments became incompatible with caring about this person.
Listen three times. Pray twice. Speak once.
