I saw this first on vooDOO920's xanga. Solving this jigsaw puzzle and posting about this sweepstakes for Big Red makes me eligible for free Xanga Premium for life...  Oh go on, go play. I don't know what Big Red is, but the puzzle was sort of fun.

"They tell God what he ought and ought not to do, and inform him of things of which he is already well aware, such as that they are miserable sinners,  and proceed then to admonish one another to feel guilt and regret about abominable behavior which they have not the least intention of changing. If God were the sort of being most Christians suppose him to be, he would be beside himself with boredom listening to their whinings and flatteries, their redundant requests and admonitions, not to mention the asinine poems set to indifferent tunes which are solemnly addressed to him as hymns."

This is Alan Watts, quoted by Ozarque, talking about the Anglican church. Of course, some of the very best poetry and most transcendentally beautiful music ever written has been sacred music, but I don't know what they sing in Anglican churches. (If you entirely missed the part about the music, I will now wait while you go back up and find it. It was, naturally, the most interesting part to me.) Watts has some interesting points, of course, but Eddy Izzard is funnier on the Anglican church "Eat tea and cakes with the vicar or die!"

Today, Orgue bribed MM and Egypt to come sing Purcell with us at the early service by offering them breakfast, so we sang our bit and then skipped out and went to a restaurant. After discussions of cholesterol numbers and presbyopia (not a religious term, but an optometrical one) which revealed how old we all are getting, we settled into a discussion about the church. And however hard we tried to get away from it, we couldn't help returning to it. I abjured them all to forget whatever indiscreet things I had said as we left ("Oh, yeah, sure" sneered Orgue.) Orgue told them that I am singing with the Methodists, too, so my double agent status will be over in my home church -- word travels amazingly fast in a town the size of ours. 

So then I went down the hill to sing with the Methodists. One of the other choir members asked me whether I had been attending the church long, and then, when I admitted that I was just a visitor, asked whether I had just come to town. I am trying to answer these questions without revealing anything, but also without appearing to be hiding anything. How do people with real secrets keep this up? If nothing else, my close attention to the bulletin surely reveals me as a non-Methodist. And, as Orgue so penetratingly pointed out, it is tough to do two public recitals of the Lord's Prayer every week, one with "debts" and the other with "trespasses."

Then I had a pleasant lunch with all my menfolks before seeing them off to their various social engagements, putting on the R-rated movie I cannot watch with the boys present,  and settling down to work on the quilt. I have traced the pattern, and have begun the cutting out. It is easier this time than it was on the sample. I am taking this as a good sign.

I finished up that skein of Morocco, and am just not quite finished with two repeats of the pattern. My bathmat will obviously be smaller than I had intended, and not quite the same shape, either. Oh, well. #2 son, checking out the redone bathroom, said "It looks insanely different, and you didn't buy anything! You should be on one of those decorating shows!"

He is the most encouraging person I know. Everyone should have someone like that around. This is the characteristic that his teachers and coaches have always commented on about him. I hope he doesn't outgrow it.

In an emergency -- say, if you were marooned on a desert island -- what would be your value to the group? #2 son would keep people cheerful through the sheer force of his enthusiasm. My husband has numerous practical skills and a level of sang-froid in the face of physical danger that we rarely encounter in the U.S. #1 son would not have any particular value on a desert island, unless his amazingly skillful whistling could be of some use. I am physically strong, and cooperative, but none of my skills would have any utility on a desert island. I guess #1 son and I would have to depend on the charity of the group not to throw us to the sharks.

Here is the first full repeat of the pattern for the bathmat. It is a nice windowpane with stockinette and seed stitch, with four panes across. It is supposed to be six panes long. It is also supposed to take two skeins of Morocco. You may notice the very small amount of yarn left in the first skein in the picture. I will be lucky to have 3 repeats of this pattern. True, I did not swatch -- that is, I did not make a little piece of knitting with the same yarn and needles to make sure that the size would be right -- but I don't think swatching would have helped in this case.

The obvious solution is to buy more of this yarn. However, it is not available locally, it is expensive for a bathmat, and it didn't even turn out to be the color I wanted, so I will not be doing that. The entire ensemble also includes facecloths, for which this thing will be too large, but it might make a nice fingertip towel. I don't know. I am going to complete it, though. It feels smooth and pleasant and shows up the texture very nicely, and no doubt it will be handy for something. Maybe a small bathmat will work just as well as a larger one. I am determined, in any case.

So I took everything out of the master bath and thoroughly scrubbed it, and then put back in only the things that really belonged there. I reworked the color scheme and got things ready for the new bathmat -- and it had better appreciate that, let me tell you. I even got my perfectionist husband to help me frame the old poster I have in there.

There are good reasons to have perfectionists help you with things. First, the things they do are done right.

Come to think of it, that's it. That is an exhaustive list of the reasons to work with perfectionists.

There are reasons not to work with perfectionists. Things take them so much longer, for one thing. While waiting in between my parts of the job of putting the poster into the frame and hanging it, I was able to do all the aforementioned scrubbing. I could have baked a pie, for that matter.

You have to hold your tongue, too. There were many occasions on which I yearned to say things like, "Just hammer the nail in, for the love of Pete!" But all the clips were removed from the frame, and the poster put in evenly, and all the clips reinserted correctly, while turning the thing around for maximum I don't know what. And the measuring was done from the floor up and from the ceiling down, as well as in from both sides, and several different tools were put into play. I didn't tell him that I had hammered in a nail with a cell phone just that morning. Some things are better left unsaid.

My husband makes Craftsman tools for a living. His wrenches must be within .003 millimeters of accuracy, if I remember correctly, which I probably do not. I know that it is an unreasonable-sounding number. If I were making wrenches, they would all be slightly different, with interesting variations in color and shape that occurred to me as I was making them. Obviously, I am not suited to making wrenches.

This is also the reason that I just got my car back yesterday. My husband has been fixing it for many weeks. He nearly took it away again so that he could open it back up and wash the things he had fixed (he thought there was a smell, and he didn't want me to get sick from fumes, which is sweet of him). However, I was firm. There have to be perfectionists in the world so that things get done right, but there also have to be non-perfectionists, so that things get done. Period.

This may not look like a surprising piece of knitting, but really it is. Here's why: I wound the skein into a ball before I began (normally I wait until it begins to tangle and then wish I had wound it first) and then, in order to restore the balance of the universe, I did not swatch.

This is Morocco color #265 "Moon Blue." It is a Brazilian yarn from Reynolds. I am using #7 needles because all my #8s have unaccountably gone missing. I suspect #2 daughter. However, it is all for the best, because as you can perhaps see from this view of the first dozen or so rows, we would not want this knitted any more loosely than it already is. The pattern is from Simple Knits for Sophisticated Living, a very handy book of patterns. Indeed, if you are more a gift knitter than a sweater knitter (there are just a couple of sweater patterns), then this could be your main book of knitting patterns.

Once again, I was not successful in sleeping in. I guess I have lost the knack. It may be just as well, as I have a huge amount of stuff to do today. I can get some pre-dawn knitting in, and maybe fit in a nap this afternoon.

Naturally, anyone who read the part about the Heavenly Father being more agreeable than any vegetable would be confused -- if they had not read the earlier post. And why should they have? Later posts appear before the earlier posts. Naturally, anyone reading about heavenly vegetables would just give up, not continue eagerly to the earlier post to see what I was talking about.

Here's the explanation: #2 daughter is working on a song. It happens to be a tenor aria, sung in the opera Xerxes by the king to a tree. He assures the tree that its shade is the most pleasant, and that it is the most agreeable vegetable he knows. What was in Handel's mind as he was writing this we can but guess.

The tune that Handel wrote for these words is one of the loveliest melodies around. You have heard it in car commercials, probably. It is usually known as "Handel's Largo," even though he clearly marked it "larghetto" and you can listen to it by clicking about halfway down this page: http://www.parlorsongs.com/issues/2001-12/thismonth/featurea.asp

Now, #2 daughter is coming home to visit next weekend, and has been asked to sing a solo in church. She wants to sing this song, but felt somewhat hampered by the fact that it is a love song to a tree. Having seen it somewhere with words in English, and in fact religious words, she asked me to find her a setting she could sing in church.

I was not immediately successful. I found a number of references to sacred texts for the tune (including the one on the page I linked you to), but could not find the actual lyrics. Fortunately, my excellent choir director came to the rescue, found a setting called "Holy Art Thou," and sent it off to #2 daughter, so all is well. She will not have to sing to God, the heavenly vegetable.

Now you know.

In fiber news, I have received the cotton/linen blend Morroco. It is not soft, but it doesn't need to be since I am going to use it for the bathmat from Simple Knits for Elegant Living. At Christmas, I made people on my list some of the other pieces of the bath ensemble from that book (see below left) and now it is my turn. The timing is perfect, as well. Those of us who do the HGP are spring cleaning and fixing up our houses one room at a time, and next week is the week for the master bath.

 The only bad thing is that this yarn is distinctly not cobalt blue, the color I had set my heart on. Never mind, I have spent too much time already on my search for the perfect yarn for this project, and I have nothing else I could sensibly make from this yarn. It will have to do. And let it be a reminder to us all that we cannot rely on the apparent color of things on our computers.

I will make the bathmat from the Moon Blue, and use the Raisin to make the rest of the ensemble.

By the way, the nice lady at my Local Yarn Shop (who had no Morocco) told me that it is featured in a beautiful sweater in a new knitting magazine -- though which one it was escapes me. I don't think I would want a sweater from this, but I will keep you posted in case you are considering it.

#2 daughter's visit was not quick enough to save me from humiliation. The director suddenly (suddenly? right there on page 36, where it belongs) asked me to sing my Buck solo, and I was a brat and refused, saying I was not ready. "We practiced it!" he said. "That doesn't mean I know it," said I, brattily. We had to skip it -- as well as the baritone solo that makes up the second half of that section, for which the baritone was doubtless ready. I felt bad about this almost immediately and am still feeling bad. I intend to blame it on the accumulated sleep deprivation of the week.

Update on the search for lyrics, described in detail below:

I have determined that William Mason, William Rowan, and Dudley Buck (coincidentally enough) all did sacred texts to "Largo." There are texts called "Love Yet God," "Love is of God," "Trust in the Lord," and "Hope in the Lord." If you own a copy of any of these, I will be eternally grateful for a transcript. I will be calling music stores as soon as they open, but perhaps the magic of the internet... Well, no. Probably not. Still. Note how I say "music stores" as though there were more than one where I live. And as though they would have on hand a nice selection of hymns by obscure composers. Hmm... what if it were something like "Heavenly Father, no vegetable is more agreeable than thou..."?

Here is a bit of wisdom from Too Much Wool's knitting blog (http://cassiana.typepad.com/too_much_wool/)

Bouthdi:  by Handel
Bouthdi:  the tune will be Ombra mai fu
Bouthdi:  it should begin on a B flat
CHOMPHOSY:  ok, for handel we have sheet music for
Bouthdi:  and hold it for a really long time
Bouthdi:  maybe not this one
CHOMPHOSY:  "Come to the waters"
Bouthdi:  I really would like you to check
Bouthdi:  I don't know that one
CHOMPHOSY:  "awake thou that sleepest"
CHOMPHOSY:  i am checking!
CHOMPHOSY:  sheet music, right?
Bouthdi:  It has a different name than the one I am singing
Bouthdi:  yes
Bouthdi:  but my setting
Bouthdi:  is from an opera
CHOMPHOSY:  nothing says "ombre mai fu"
Bouthdi:  and not religious
Bouthdi:  It won't call it that
Bouthdi:  it will have an English name
CHOMPHOSY:  ok. so I am looking for something by Handel that begins on a b flat?
Bouthdi:  yes
Bouthdi:  and holds it forever

I ask you: was this enough information?  A piece by Handel with an English name, beginning on a B flat (the "going on forever" part could not be taken literally enough to be useful)? See me sitting surrounded by sheet music, searching for this one particular piece. Actually, we eventually determined (with help from google) that it is the so-called "Handel's Largo." But even knowing the tune, I still have not found the arrangement with an English text. If any of you knows it, please help me out. Otherwise I will have to write some new words to it -- actually, if any of you can help with that, it would also be appreciated. #2 daughter wants to sing this in church a week from Sunday, but we have determined that the original words -- a love song to a plane tree focussing on the beauty of its fronds and the fact that there is no other vegetable so agreeable -- would not be suitable. We think there is an English text, sometimes sung at weddings. If you can supply this text, I will come and sing it at your wedding.

I seem to have regained control over my fonts. Frankly, I have no more control over what my blog looks like than I have over what my hair looks like. Many of you may control both those things competently, but -- although I am diligently reading this book on beauty and can now tell you quite a bit about the grooming habits of the ancient Egyptians -- must still just take what I get in both areas.

My Buck piece is going to be very nice, I think. My director is so patient and kind about my counting, or lack thereof. #2 daughter will, I am sure, help me with those dotted sixteenths when she comes to visit, and thus save me from humiliation, while also redeeming herself for the incomprehensible IM demands.

 And the Methodist choir was very lively indeed. They laugh and talk and complain throughout the entire rehearsal. Neither of my daughters would enjoy this, but I am being open-minded. It is all very good-natured. I thought at first that they were sight-reading through some new pieces, and if so then they are very good sight-readers, but by the end of the rehearsal I was no longer sure. In fact, I don't know what we were doing, but I plan to be swept up in the experience and not think about it much.

This book will gen you up on all the chemicals in all the bottles in your bathroom. You will then want to throw them away.

I am going this morning to work on my Buck piece with my choir director. I told him yesterday that I had been asked to sing in the Methodist choir and would not be with him for the Easter music. "I had wondered how long it would be before they tapped you," he said quietly. It felt as though I were telling him I wanted to see other people. The Empress and That Man have also defected, and he is taking it well, but we still feel guilty. Tonight I will go for the first time to try out the new choir. I have sung in a lot of groups of various kinds, but each new one is different. So I have been thinking about those differences.

A solo is art, or communication, or work, depending on why you're doing it. The singer has full responsibility for the sound. You have to train, and work, and practice, and figure out exactly what it means and what effect you want on the audience. It can be a relaxed "Hey! Sing that one about..." kind of situation, or a full-on recital, but either way it is a commitment of sorts.

Partygirl and I go to a class on Tuesday nights in which we sing a little. There are about 300 women there. In cases like this, you have no responsibility for the sound. With that many people, all the little differences even out into one sound (although once at Montreat I had the opportunity to sing casually with 1000 musicians, and it was quite wonderful), and you can sing just for the pleasure of it. You can even listen to it, a luxury singers don't usually have. We usually have to listen so specifically that we don't get to hear the entire piece in the way the audience does.

Choral music is somewhere between those two poles. The Chamber Singers, my Thursday night rehearsal, can require the same level of responsibility as a solo. We are  a small ensemble, working hard to convey the director's choice of sound. In opera, you don't want to blend, but in chamber music it is essential, and with only three or four voices to a part, it takes effort to blend and balance, and we must also sing our best. In the Presbyterian church choir, we are mostly non-singers, so the focus has to be on the process, not the product, but we are still working toward a certain effect. Choral music sung entirely by good singers is a great pleasure to sing and to listen to. I like to be the worst singer in the group.

Congregational singing (that is, when you sing where you stand in the pews in church) is something else entirely. It's more like driving. I try to be sure to sing at the same volume as the others around me, in the style that the congregation prefers, with no embellishments unless that is obviously the local custom. If my singing the alto line throws my neighbors off, I sing melody. My goal is to be an unobtrusive, useful singer. Not everyone takes this approach. I know an otherwise very nice lady who, if she thinks the song leader is taking a hymn too slowly, just goes ahead and sings it at her own preferred tempo. Were she a musician, this would be an unquestionably hostile act, but I give her the benefit of the doubt. These rules also apply to singing on a bus, around a campfire, and in other public situations. By the way, if you are a non-singer in one of these settings, and you hear a singer who is following the rules, do not stare. We can't help sounding like that. If it is a singer showing off and being obnoxious, you can stare.

Singing often is also worship, but that is another discussion.

I have nothing to say about knitting today. Hopkins is growing, but a long swath of gray stockinette can do a lot of growing before it qualifies as news. But don't miss Mayflower's pretty purple sweater: http://www.xanga.com/home.aspx?user=mayflwr

"Arbolist... look up the word. I don't know; maybe I made it up. Anyway, it's an arbo-tree-ist, somebody who knows about trees." -- George Bush, as quoted in USA Today, August 21, 2001.

This is a fairly typical quote from our current president, and fitting for the man who is proud of the No Child Left Behind Act, or, as it is known in educational circles, the Test Till There's No Time to Teach Act.

Yesterday was an inservice day, rather than a day off, for most of our teachers, and we saw a lot of them, but many were feeling rather bitter. Many had spent the day being reminded of the main focus of teaching nowadays: practicing for the test.  "Why listen to us? We're just teachers," as one put it. Many said things like "It's ridiculous" and "It's so stupid," and I knew just what they meant. The Poster Queen was out sick, so it was too busy for much unpacking. It was more a matter of helping to find materials that would allow some elements of actual teaching to slip into the classroom without getting the teacher into too much trouble. It bothers me, too, that all these children are having to watch their teachers fudge, jump through hoops, and do things they know are wrong (and often tell the kids so, too). What message does that give the kids about honor? It reminds me to appreciate my job.

One unusual person who came to the store yesterday was Son-in-Law's grandmother, returning a book I had loaned her. It was The Yarn Girls Guide, which I had taken to her rather apologetically when I couldn't find my Vogue Knitting Hats and Caps book. She had already made three hats from it, and bought herself a copy, so forget what I might have said about that book being only for the young, new knitter. Fortunately, I had the VK book with me, having found it and planned to drop it by her house. So we made our book trade and she told me how much she loved my daughter and I told her how much I loved her grandson and a good time was had by all. Or at least by the two of us.

And, speaking of grandmothers, Ozarque (who is an authority on the subject) is having a lively discussion on the subject of grandparents here: http://www.livejournal.com/users/ozarque/ 

Behold the back of Hopkins.

And on the right, the back of the applique practice piece, just barely underway. Having traced the design onto freezer paper and cut along the lines with an X-acto knife, you iron it onto the back of the fabric. The fabric is supposed to be black to make it look like stained glass, of course, but this is just for practice. You then cut out one of the design openings, shove a bit of cloth into the opening, and sew around the edge. This gives you the effect shown on the left below, where I have actually gotten three pieces into place.

I can see that, in a complicated design, this method will increase the chances of having all the little pieces end up in the right spots. Compare it with ordinary applique, in which the pieces are cut out separately, arranged on the fabric, and sewn down. An example of this is the table runner I made at Thanksgiving, shown on the right.

With traditional applique such as this, you have some flexibility. You can put your pumpkin a bit more to the right and adjust the angle of the leaf. The stained glass look probably calls for a bit more precision.

And it is good for a person to try new things.

I have to admit, though, that I am not really enjoying the sample piece, and I probably will not even finish it. I think I've got the concept now, and I will leap right into the large pattern. Probably next Saturday.

My menfolks have the day off today, for Presidents Day. This is a sort of bastardization of Washington's and Lincoln's birthdays, moved to a Monday so lots of people can have three-day weekends. I will be going to work, of course. All the teachers have the day off, so many of them will probably come and shop with us. The guys will stay home, waking up sometime after I leave for work. I can come home and have lunch with them, which will be fun. And then they will greet the Schwann's man, a nice fellow who comes to our house in a yellow truck every couple of weeks while I am at work, bearing ice cream and frozen pizza. Without him, my boys would have to live on nothing but whole grains, fresh produce, lean meats, and nonfat dairy products, and they would probably wither away to nothing. I like the Schwann's man because he delivers. He brings frozen fruit for my smoothies and reasonably wholesome junk food for my boys and asks nothing in return except money.