As you can see, I have begun the colorwork. It doesn't look like anything yet, of course, but I hope that it soon will. Specifically, it is supposed to look like this:

LikeWowMom attempted to help me get the graph to be just black and white, but apparently KnitPro just doesn't do plain black and white. It is more complex than that.

In general, I am in favor of complexity. It can, however, make things difficult. As when, yesterday, I went to buy the background fabric for the Windblown Squares quilt. (I was also going to get the fabric for the Celtic Knot quilt, out of guilt at moving on to another and leaving it in UFO state. But that is another story.) There I was, roaming up and down the bolts of Kona Cotton, holding little bits of the fabrics I had bought in Liberty. But since I always prefer complicated colors, and had been drawn to this collection of fabrics because it offered not just complicated colors, but a complicated group of complicated colors, I faced a problem. Because, while I was thinking that I would get a burgundy and a sage green, and use one for the top and one for the backing, I did not hold in my hand a bunch of swatches in burgundy, pink, yellow, and green. No, I held swatches in russet, terra cotta, apricot, butter, and sage. And a mental recollection of the fabrics and woods in the room which this quilt will occupy -- which include not only the aforementioned russet, apricot, and sage, but also moss, olive, biscuit, and rose. Not to mention the bricks.

So I walked up and down, holding my swatches up to fabrics that turned out to have just a bit too much blue, or not quite enough. The available shades of burgundy and sage green clashed pretty badly with the shades in my fabrics. The swatches looked best, in fact, against a sort of khaki. But once they were on that color, they turned all Southwest desert-y, and gave up all their cottage-y sweetness. The nice lady at the shop and I stood and gazed at the combination, and finally she suggested I look elsewhere.

So I will. The interaction reminded me of an epistemological discussion that took place among the Jewels of Knowledge. Namely, can we all perceive all the same colors? It has been proven that the majority of men claim not to be able to distinguish among colors like apricot, rose, and terracotta. Obviously, those who work with color can do so, and it is suspected that the rest of them can see the difference, but cannot bring themselves to use all those color words. It is not considered manly, in English, to have control of a lot of color words.

On the other hand, there is a school of thought that claims that people literally cannot distinguish among colors that they cannot name. So men -- and women, for that matter -- who refuse to use terms like "cerise" and "fuschia" cannot be expected to see the difference.

I will be going to my local quilt shop. The owner is a man, as it happens. The last time I was there I was with #1 daughter, who has a lot of color skill. We were talking about her difficulties in decorating, because her husband strongly dislikes pink, which is for my daughter a basic neutral. Me too. The quilt shop owner said we should tell my son-in-law, as a message from "an old married man," that he might as well give up. He would never gain control over the household colors. The quilt shop man, being one who has color skills, and probably also knows all the color words, ought to have a lot of control over the household colors, I would have thought. Well, I hope that he will be able to help me with my color dilemma, at least.

As for the graph, I think I may take a felt-tip pen to it, blacking in all the squares that seem as though they ought to be black, and letting all the others be white. So far, I have been following the graph as best I can, with the original image nearby to check it against. It seems to work pretty well. I should be able to tell for sure in a few more inches.

Pokey, by the way, has not yet swatched for her T-shirt. She is using the end of the semester as her excuse.

Our music at choir last night had an exhortation printed on the back. If we were asked to sing from copies rather than originals, it said, we should "question the choir director, in front of the rest of the choir." Moving right on from disapproval to public humiliation of the culprit. Crazy Aunt Purl, also, went in for publicly berating wrongdoers.

Fortunately (since I would not enjoy the public berating of wrongdoers), all our music was legal. We are singing a rumba: "There is a savior" cha cha cha... Also a John Rutter piece, which makes me very happy. I asked about dynamics, which brought catcalls, but there is a high note which should be sung fortissimo -- and I can sing it fortissimo, too, but I don't want to do it all by myself. I can't sing that high in mezzo forte, especially not sitting down. Given the choice between asking that the choir stand up and asking for dynamics, I figured that the choir in general would prefer the latter. I think this choir can improve a lot, but do not want to mess up the whole sing-around-the-campfire feeling that the participants seem to cherish. Nor do I want to be a troublemaker or to imply that anything in the choir needs changing. I am going for insidious infiltration...

I have reached row 54 above the hem of the front. I have never before used a row counter to count all the rows of a project. Normally, I use it for things like pattern repeats or a tricky bit of shaping. With the actual row count, I could calculate what percentage of the T-shirt I have completed, but I can't be bothered. I'm not in that much of a hurry. However, I am pleased to be well on the way to beginning the colorwork. I am taking #1 son for X-rays, and should finish up the plain part in the waiting room.

We may then have another trip to the doctor for him, but maybe not, and one more for me. At that point we will be caught up on all the backlog of appointments. #1 daughter pointed out that all this gallivanting around, driving and making appointments and shopping and such, has taken up a lot of extra time. It is true. Here are all the things I have neglected during this time: getting to the gym more than twice a week, housework, my family history project, laundry, the garden (where many things are blooming, including iris, dianthus, violets, azaleas, and dandelions), sewing, cooking and baking, and my husband. I'll catch up on all of them pretty soon.

I ended up knitting in the doctor's office. I'm going back today with #1 son, so I will be able to knit further. This is another benefit to long sections of stockinette.

Yesterday I found myself in several conversations about disapproval. La Bella said that she had trouble complying with all those requests for batches of cookies, because she disapproves of people eating all that sugar. (If you don't have lots of people asking you for batches of cookies, then you should go study right now, because you are that young). Partygirl and I, having listened to someone speaking disapprovingly about the results of poor choices in reading and viewing, were discussing our own reading and viewing choices with some qualms (Partygirl reads bodice-rippers. If you understood that sentence, you may enjoy this -- scroll down the page to find Lord of the Hissy Fit). This led us to the question of violent video games -- of which I disapprove, but my husband and sons do not. And #1 daughter, when I appealed to her for help in finding some legal and moral source of music downloads for the boys' MP3 players, allowed as how she doesn't disapprove of filesharing programs, in spite of her strong belief in copyright law. Her argument was lengthy and complex, and fairly compelling, too.

There's really an amazing range of things around that stimulate disapproval. Just in the knitting blogs, you can find fairly impassioned expressions of disapproval of wool, acrylic, garter stitch scarves, patterns without schematics, schematics, DPNs, copyright violation, and expensive yarns.

So what do you disapprove of? (EDIT: Because of some real-world responses to the question I am returning to say that I mean abstract disapproval that leads you to choose not to do something. I am not asking you to be mean about others. Would I do a thing like that?)

#1 daughter also weighed in with suggestions for the background color of the Windblown Squares quilt, speaking strongly in favor of either sage green or burgundy. White, she felt, would end up looking insipid. Which would you favor?

And on the subject of color, Scriveling is making the T-shirt in variegated cool colors. I think she is the first to do a variegated one. Or at least the first to announce it. Dweezy has found an extremely clever way to graph his own drawings for knitting. All knitters who also can draw should check it out, and the rest of us should also check it out if only to marvel at its extreme cleverness. If you are still thinking about a graphic for the shirt, you might also check out your library in search of The Tap-Dancing Lizard, an excellent compilation of charted intarsia patterns for knitting.

I've gotten back to the knitting of the T-shirt. Here is the front, 33 rows above the hem. It is still knitting up unevenly, but no doubt it will even out in the wash, as EZ said. I am not one of these knitters who complains about stockinette, since knitting great swathes of stockinette always provides plenty of opportunity to read, but I am finding myself in a bit of a hurry over this because I want to begin the colorwork. I printed out a chart from KnitPro and found, though the image was black and white to begin with, that the chart is in multiple shades of gray. Of course, since I only have two colors, I will most likely call all the white squares background color and everything else contrast color, but it seems to me that some of the background has come out gray too, and that the variations offer interesting possibilities. I could pick up a couple more skeins of this stuff and play around with multiple colors.

At work, I am unpacking books, laying some aside for review and some for specific individuals, and then fitting all the rest onto the shelves, a process which requires a lot of rearranging. All in all, this is a pleasant and mentally restful task, which leaves lots of time for thinking about colors. So I am considering what background color to use for my Windblown Squares quilt (sage green? white? natural muslin?) and what to do with the T-shirt when the time comes to begin the colorwork.

Today, however, I must go to the doctor for another blood test and a fresh round of debate on the wisdom of taking medication. I have lunch plans with La Bella, and after work, a class for which I have done absolutely none of the homework. Of course, there is no grade or consequence of any kind, but I do feel a certain responsibility anyway. So the question arises: do I knit at the doctor's office, thus moving myself further toward the colorwork, or do I work on the homework, in spite of the likelihood that I will still not complete it? The fact that I am even giving any time to this question reflects the fact that I am not allowed to have any tea this morning. First I have two mornings in a dormitory which is unequipped with tea, and now I have fasting bloodwork and am not allowed to have my morning tea. Whither civilization?

We made it home.  I am therefore a graduate of the Overcoming Agoraphobia program. It has been pointed out to me several times (notably by The Empress, who knows about these things) that one cannot overcome a serious mental disorder in 6 weeks by The Snap Out Of It Method. I do not disagree with these people, because I never felt that I had a serious mental disorder. And the program doesn't say that I will not experience distress or aversions any more, just that I will be able to do what I want or need to do in spite of them. I find that I experience much less distress in phobic trigger sitations than I did before. And I now do not have to say "I can't because..." any more, so I am happy. As a fairly ignorant observer of troubled humans, I've noticed that most people with problems the size of my agoraphobia never bother to try the Snap Out Of It Method, so it may well be that it would often work better than folks think it would.

We had originally intended to come back on Saturday, but decided to stay on until Sunday. This gave us an opportunity to be tourists. We took the guys to breakfast at the Hardware Cafe, where, in complete defiance of the Right Way to Eat, we had quiche, biscuits and sausage gravy, apple fritters, and cinnamon rolls. We didn't all have all those things, but we did our best. 

Then #2 daughter and I strolled around the town. (Dr. Drew and #2 son returned to campus to work on a paper, which you or I might call playing video games.)

We went to Sherlock's Home, a mystery book store, where I bought so many used classic mystery novels that I saved enough money to go to the quilt shop. This calculation uses a special branch of mathematics familiar to fiber fans, which can only be used while traveling. This allowed me to buy the fat quarters shown here (on the left in the pretty origami-like arrangement the shop made, and on the right spread out for visibility), which will become a small summery quilt which will take the place of the boiled wool throw in warm weather. Not that we will cover our feet with it -- it will just be draped casually over the rocking chair, looking debonair as the temperature climbs. And, no, I have not forgotten #1 son's Celtic Cross quilt. It has however gotten stalled. I am thinking about Windblown Square for the new quilt, and hoping that the continued presence of the Celtic Cross on the organ bench, even in its stalled state, will keep #1 son hopeful.

We also bought decorative tea strainers, hot water bottles shaped like fish, and other girly essential items at this place. Thus laden, we walked back up the hill to the campus, collected the boys, and attended the opening of a photography installation. In the evening there was a concert by the Symphonic Band. I particularly liked the Aegean Symphony. This was followed by cookies and punch, and then by a confab on the floor in the hallway at the dorm, where the Jewels of Knowledge hung around discussing Douglas Adams, perception, college rules, Ayn Rand, The Bunny Theory, and knitting.

Yes, really. Distant Eyes brought down her keyhole scarf, which is being made of pretty multicolored eyelash yarn. I had left my knitting in the suitcase, with only occasional thoughts of climbing four flights of stairs in order to get it and bring it back down. So of course I took the opportunity to admire the scarf in question. The discussion spread from our end of the hall to The Emo King, whose mother once crocheted a perfectly lovely pineapple tablecloth. I picked up the stitches on #2 daughter's cable sweater and did the neckband, checked out a couple of dropped stitches, and gave needlework advice out pretty freely, but did not otherwise knit at all during the weekend.

We had a lot of fun anyway.

I made it to my destination, but not home yet, so I am not bragging yet. There certainly were times when I longed to stop the car, but none were so bad that being a truck stop waitress seemed preferable. This is a good thing, because actually truck stops are not littered as profusely about the landscape as you might think. If I need a Plan B in case I can't get home (it doesn't seem likely at the moment), it will have to feature farm labor.

The trip also included another Male-Female difference: definitions of being lost. I said we were lost when, having found highway 70 under construction and followed the signs to 40 instead, we ended up passing the Purgatory Tattoo Parlor and the Tool Box Lounge instead of the Quaint College Town. #2 son disagreed. We knew what road we were on and what town we were in, so we obviously weren't lost. Pokey agreed with me and Dr. Drew with #2 son. No further surveying has yet been accomplished.

At the moment, I am in #2 daughter's dorm room. I strongly recommend spending a weekend in a dorm room sometime, if you are normally a mom with household responsibilities. Everything is messy, no one has been fed, and it is totally Not My Problem. This is a vacation.

The recital was very good. Ten years from now, people will be saying, "Renee Fleming? Oh, yes, she's good, but have you heard Chanthaboune?"

We had BBQ last night, outside in a courtyard with freight trains rumbling by, often just as Dr. Drew was explaining something fascinating about amino acids. Being a native, he was probably just irritated that he had to shout about amino acids, but #2 son and I found it very picturesque. "Look! The cars have coal or something in them!" I cooed. #2 son HAD to try out a revolving door, and both of us were all impressed with the lights. #2 son politely thanked the hot dog vendors who shouted at everyone heading to the Music Hall, and I tried to pretend I wasn't petrified with fear on the freeway (fortunately, I was not driving). Our hosts were very kind, and not at all behaving as though they were mortified at our country bumpkin ways.

We saw the American Ballet Theater. We girls enjoyed it very much. The guys found it broadening; that's all I will say about that.

No, there is no knitting content. My knitting is still in the trunk of the car. I intend to help #2 daughter with her T-shirt swatching today, and also play tourist here in the Quaint College Town, but that's about it. I am beginning to feel strongly about the complete lack of cups of hot tea here in the morning. I wonder whether, if I went out in search of a cuppa, I would be able to get back in. Hmmm...

I found it interesting to learn from this book that when, in the 1870s, agoraphobia was first diagnosed, it was considered a reasonable reaction to the then-new cities. Open plazas, cleared spaces, broad streets filled with fast vehicles -- these things were clearly not good for people, and led to this new problem of agoraphobia. Writers pointed this out as a condemnation of the new-fangled ways. In the 1930s, when cars and therefore roads, cleared fields, and such had become commonplace, agoraphobia was redefined as a disorder. By then, it was no longer felt that the problem was in poor design of living spaces. People were supposed to get used to it.

At this point in my quest to overcome agoraphobia, I have made it all the way up my aversions list. I answer the phone, I make appointments with hardly a second thought, I shop when necessary, I drive at night. I have been on freeways several times, driven to unfamiliar places, and gone on Scary Roads. Today is my Overcoming Agoraphobia final exam.

Today I am driving a very long distance. I know there to be some scary roads involved and -- since I have not driven this route in some years -- it may also be that there have been scary roads built there while I wasn't looking. I am mentally prepared, however. I have all my tools ready, I have practiced the appropriate responses to any unreasonable panics, and I have worked on approaching the whole thing with a sense of adventure and exhileration. It is always possible that I will get stuck in Joplin and be unable to reach my destination, but if so, I intend to take a position as a waitress at a truck stop, and stay there. If you never hear from me again, that will be the reason.

Actually, I think that #2 son is coming with me. Having had the opportunity to admire his determined cheerfulness last night when the toilet overflowed (he cleaned it up, singing all the while), I am reinforced in my belief that he will be a helpful person to have along. If the wheels should fall off the car, or if I should prove unable to drive over the overpasses, he will be cheerful and enthusiastic about it. When he was little, he used to say, "Be cool, be calm, and SNAP into action!" It is a good motto.

One of the peculiar things about agoraphobes is that they can often do things they otherwise find impossible if what the medical community calls a "safe person" is with them. They sometimes explain that having this person with them makes a difference because that person could help. Often, though, the safe person is an infant, or for some other reason not really likely to be of any help. So I recognise that my reaction is part of the agoraphoia. I am still really glad that he is coming with me.

I am taking my knitting, too, although I have no expectation of having much knitting time. Have you answered Voodoo920's knitting survey? Come on, it's for a class.

The point of all this driving is to attend #2 daughter's junior recital, an event to which I am looking forward eagerly. I understand that barbecue and the American Ballet Theater will also figure in the evening. Clearly, this is worth some driving.

If I post tomorrow or Sunday, you will know that I made it and am an Overcoming Agoraphobia graduate. If not, then look for me in truck stops as you pass through Joplin. I will be the waitress who insists on telling you things about physics even though you only want a burger.

Do truck stops actually have waitresses?

The "joys and concerns" section of choir practice last night began in the usual way with sick kids and people travelling and the miraculous growth of the soprano section, but then someone mentioned taxes and Suwanna brought up the anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic and it all just got out of hand.

I almost mentioned #1 daughter's having found a suitable dress for the Sub Ball. Isn't that a great name for a social event? It is filled with mystery. The dress I know all about: it is long, black, and slinky, with an underdress and a beaded overdress and spaghetti straps and a rose motif travelling up the length of it. But the ball itself is not so clear to me. Will they actually be on a submarine? Is it a ball for all the submariners? Will they serve sub sandwiches? No, no -- I understand that there is a great deal of beading and straplessness involved in this affair, so it cannot be about sub sandwiches. I hope it is on a submarine, though. Slinking around a submarine, dancing to whale songs, would be a whole new chapter in romance.

Blisskitty and Dweezy are discussing the merits of crochet versus knitting. The business community has been poised for some time for a crochet revival to mirror the knitting revival, and I think it will happen. Crochet has some image problems to overcome, though. For one thing, it is often thought to be sort of an easier form of knitting. This is not true, but it has contributed to its other problems.

The second trouble is the Rule of Nostalgia: namely, the things that were trendy in your parents' day (your own childhood) are unutterably ugly, while the things from the previous generation are charming. Those of us who actually remember the 1970s, when crochet was last in style, tend to think of it in terms of hideous granny square hot pants and stuff like this sweater. Having seen Poor Boy sweaters and platform shoes come back into style, I am ready for younger readers to say they love this look, but to me it is truly ugly.

The third problem with crochet, I think, is that the belief that it was easier than knitting led to folks' using it for things that it wasn't suited to. Artificial knitting, in fact. Crochet made to look a little like Aran knitting was one horrible idea. Crochet will make a good, firm fabric, or it will make lace. It really won't make decent cables, or a soft drapey opaque fabric. It is very good for three-dimensional stuff, too, since you can change your direction as you go along, instead of having to calculate the way you do with knitting. So it is very good for bowls and baskets and rugs, but not good at all for pullovers or socks.

My mother uses crochet to make pictures and toys. I use it for lace, afghans, and finishing. In fact, traditional knitters always know how to crochet, since it is an important finishing technique. It may be that neo-knitters don't usually know how, and I think crocheters do not usually know how to knit. But the combination of the two techniques can make some very nice results.

This is an unblocked motif from my current crochet project. I can't call it a WIP (work in progress), because it is so long since I have worked on it. It has to be a UFO (unfinished object). Someday it will return to the land of the WIP and be finished, but right now it looks like this:

The T-shirt has had no further progress, either, because I have been going to appointments and rehearsals and stuff. Here is the pattern if you haven't started yet. If you wanted to incorporate crochet into this pattern, you could. A crocheted edging would be very pretty, I think. A crocheted motif in place of the graphic, either appliqued on or added by leaving an opening and crocheting it in later, would also be nice. You could even make the whole thing in Irish Crochet and wear it over a tank.

But don't make this top out of single crochet or something, because then it would be a piece of stiff nasty fake-knitting instead of some lovely crochet.

One of the many useful things that knitting blogs have accomplished for me is to completely eradicate any desire to use nonstandard sock patterns. Toe up, afterthought heels, novelty yarns -- I have seen them, and I will stick with tradition. Carrie is displaying handsome traditional socks right now, in fact. However, NotSoSwift knitted charms into hers, and I find that an entirely charming idea.

Granted, it may just be spring fever. There is a lot of that going around. We have CAPS conferences this week. These are school conferences which are intended to ensure that the kids are taking courses which are in line with their future goals. Since #1 son intends to be an itinerant folklorist, will he need Honors Chemistry and AP Euro? I'm not sure, but I am also not a troublemaker, so I did not bring it up. He plans to go to college, so he's doing the right thing. #2 son is primarily interested in the social opportunities in classes. He is strong in interpersonal skills. We hope he will not go into politics.

Nona has directions for a very pretty picot turning at the hem, which I intend to use for my second T-shirt. I am still working on the front of the first one, and it doesn't look different enough today to warrant a new picture. However, a lot of the knitalong have pictures up, if you want to see how this project looks in different yarns.

And since it is tank season, the blogs are also full of discussions about bras. So I will share with you a conversation of sorts from work. Now, I am told that men hesitate to join a conversational grouping of women, for fear that they will turn out to be talking about something gynecological or lingerie-related, so you can, if you are a man, consider yourself warned.

"That's why I'm not wearing a bra," she confided in me. I had never seen her before in my life, I had  not asked her about her bra or even darted meaningful glances at her bosom. We had not been sharing girlish confidences about our undies. I experienced a momentary panic as I tried to think whether I had spaced out and missed something.

"He told me not to wear a bra," she continued, "but I said I would not go braless. So then my bras began to disappear."

Perhaps unwisely, I asked, "Why didn't he want you to wear a bra?" I was, you understand, grasping for some meaning to the exchange. I was trapped behind a counter, after all, and had to make some effort to keep up.

"Well, he doesn't have anything to be smug about," she said, shaking her head, "so he liked having the kind of wife men looked at. So when I got older, he missed that distinction."

Deciding to go with her facial expression, and give up attempting to make sense of her words, I shook my head. "Men!" I said. I hoped, by this, to suggest that I totally understood her plight.

Later, the Empress and I tried to imagine our reactions if our husbands began stealing our brassieres in order to parade us around braless... We were not successful in imagining such a situation, let alone our reactions.

How is spring fever affecting you? Are you initiating discussions about your unmentionables with strangers? Signing up for surprising courses with that spirit of hopefulness that accompanies new endeavors? Planting stuff? Knitting tank tops or nonstandard socks? All fairly harmless pursuits... If you are skipping classes, falling in love with unsuitable people, or driving without your seat belt, stop it immediately.

Richard Feynman, fiddling with an ailing tape recorder: "You just have to know how the world works. Physicists know how the world works. There's always some dirt or infinity or something." Naturally, I love the equation of dirt and infinity -- both being things that get into stuff and mess it up.

As a writer, Feynman really reminds me of C.S. Lewis. Both of them have very distinctive personal voices, so that when you read them, you feel that you know and even like them. They both take difficult concepts and clarify them with homely metaphors and humble explanations which neither condescend nor assume prior knowledge.

But there are basic assumptions. For example, when I tell you that the azaleas are blooming, those in my region will be able to add the rest on their own -- fluffy clouds, cloudbursts followed by lambent pools, tender new green growth, redbuds, forsythia, drifts of spring bulbs flowering.

Just so, in an explanation, you have to be able to find the parts that are essential to understanding the whole. When Feynman says that photons are emitted, not because they were there already, but in the same way that words only come into being as we "emit" them in our speech, our basic knowledge about speech allows us to understand what he is saying about photons.

I still have a little trouble with the idea of "some" infinity.

Here is the front of the T-shirt. It looks a whole lot like the back, of course. I am going to put a graphic rather than words on the front. At one point, I had thought I might stick with a single color and do the design in knit and purl texture -- subtle, you see. However, with spring really here, things are different. Choirs of frogs make noises under my window all night, noises reminiscent of space aliens invading. Every time I walk up to my front door I am driven to stick my hands into the worm-filled dirt to pull up weeds (though frankly, they look better right now than most of the perennials). This is no time for timidity.

I need to make a final decision about the graphic in, oh, about five inches. Thanks to KnitPro, the world is absolutely my oyster when it comes to the graphics. KnitPro will magically graph any image you give it. I plan to do one from Dover Electronic Clip Art's Arts and Crafts Designs. The reference here is to the Arts and Crafts movement, a sort of late Art Nouveau style with which I have both philosophical and aesthetic sympathies. The hard part is deciding among all the splendid designs. My current favorite charted out at 64 rows by 48 stitches, so I have counted out a spot that size on the back, and am using that as my guide for estimating where on the front to put the graphic.