Here is the completed Hopkins. It is a big, boxy, cozy, wooly sweater, and I will be glad of it come autumn, but for now it is heading for a high shelf.

It is basically the Siv pattern from Viking Patterns for Knitting by Elsabeth Lavold, done in Wool Ease on size 3 needles. I reworked the sleeves, left off the cables, and added colorwork from Alice Starmore's Celtic Collection -- three different charts.

And yes, we did go camping. I am going to post pictures, too, in a day or so. We did the hike, the swimming, the s'mores, and all the rest of it. We noticed the thunder and darkening clouds while waiting for the cardboard boat race on the lake, and got back to the campsite and packed up our tent and gear and got into the car just as the heavens opened up and the thunderstorm began.

We were disproportionately proud of ourselves for this.

The Sophie bag is also completed. I made it according to the pattern, except that I bound off the short bits at the point where it says to bind off the long bits, and added 5 rows of garter stitch to each of the long bits. Then, after felting it, I sewed in these tortoiseshell handles. I also doubled the bottom of the bag. I just turned it inside out, picked up stitches along the side of the base, knitted across, and bound off while picking up at the other side. I sewed the open edges.  I think this will help it to keep its shape. Then I felted it in the washer and dryer. It was done in Paton's Classic Wool on size 8 needles, and is therefore smaller than the original, but I had only a few yards of yarn left, so that was the right size to make it. I like it very much.

We also made a hat. We used a Harrisville kit. You put a Gertie ball into a bowl and cover it in particular ways with fleece. It begins pretty quickly to look like a little wool monster of some kind. Then you cover it with several pairs of de-limbed pantyhose. 

Then you saturate it in hot soapy water and dribble it around like a basketball. This is the most humorous part of the process, as you chase the ball around. We ended up dribbling it in the bathtub, on the patio, and then shoving it into the empty cooler (we had it out, as we were packing for the camping, but hadn't filled it yet) and bouncing it around.

When you finish that, you have felt. You deflate and remove the ball, and then comes the fulling and shaping. I can tell that this is the part requiring skill, and we will doubtless become better at this as we go along. I will confess that we used the washer and dryer to hurry the process up. The directions call for doing the whole thing by hand, but we got bored too quickly and cheated.

And we ended up with a hat, as you can see. It is too small for the watermelon which is posing with it here, but fits human heads just fine. We have the materials for half a dozen of these, which should be enough for us to become experts. I think they'll make good holiday gifts, or at least a nice addition to the woolies basket. The fleece comes in hot or cool variegated pieces, so using this kit means that you will have a variegated hat, but once you have the concept you could certainly substitute any wool you have hanging around. I'm going to felt a knitted hat, too, I think, as I have a a skein of gray Classic Wool left. I think it will be interesting to compare the two processes and their results.

I go back to work tomorrow, so today will be a re-entry day. I have to do laundry and clean house and stuff like that, so that I can start my workweek with serenity rather than chaos. I also intend to stuff as much lolling as possible into this last day.

Here is our weather report: Today

Tonight

Tomorrow

Scattered T-Storms High 86° F Precip:   40% Scattered thunderstorms. High 86F. Winds S at 10 to 15 mph. Chance of rain 40%.

Scattered T-Storms Low 69° F Precip:   40% Scattered thunderstorms, especially late. Low 69F. Winds SSE at 5 to 10 mph. Chance of rain 40%.

Scattered Strong Storms High 85° F Precip:   40% Partly cloudy with scattered thunderstorms, possibly severe in the afternoon. High near 85F. Winds SSE at 10 to 15 mph. Chance of rain 40%.

We used to camp in the rain all the time, but the kids are being wimpoid and my husband is going beyond wimpoid to actual refusal to go unless the weather forecast changes. Will we camp? Plan A continues to be going camping. Plan B is to go in the morning, taking the tent but being open-minded about whether or not to stay the night. Plan C ... well, we could stay home, continuing with our intensive program of lolling about.

I want to take the 7-mile hike! I want paddle boats! I want swimming and s'mores and a complete lack of electronic devices!

There will be other weekends.

Two strips of the quilt. There should eventually be seven. I love it already.

The man who owns the local quilt shop likes the piecing best. When he finishes piecing the top, he says, he is through with the fun part. He is ready to hand it over to someone else. And indeed there are many quilters nowadays who just use their machines to fill in random squiggles all over the quilt and leave it at that.

I don't feel that way. I actually like the piecing least, since it is done on a machine. I am not generally in sympathy with machines. Plus, I can't read while I do it. So, while I piece, I think about how I will quilt it.

Some people think this doesn't matter, but they are mistaken. For one thing, the pieces you choose to emphasize make it look different. Most piecing patterns have a number of different geometric shapes -- square, triangle, rhombus -- and shapes made up of those shapes, as well. When you quilt around a shape in the piecing, that shape pops up and looks more important.When you quilt a pattern inside a shape, it flattens it. So, when you decide what to quilt around and what to quilt inside of, you are deciding what shapes to emphasize.

There is also the question of what to quilt. Quilting around the piecing puts the focus on the piecing. Using a separate pattern (drawn onto the fabric and stitched over) brings in a new design element, and puts the focus on the quilting.

This quilt top  from last year (unquilted above, and with the quilting begun on the left) had a lot of open spaces, which lent itself to elaborate quilting. Unquilted, it had  a very geometric look. I could have quilted around the piecing to emphasize that. I could have tied it for a puffy effect. But once I did a lot of close quilting, it had an old-fashioned flatness. I usually quilt in lines that follow the piecing, but in this case I used Celtic knot-work in the large spaces to make the quilting an important part of the design. This also brought curves into the linear design. 

This moon and stars quilt from the previous year has an all-over picture,  and a much more modern design, so I quilted around the motifs and left most of it puffy. There are randomly-placed shooting stars quilted here and there on the top, but the picture is the main thing. The puffiness also is more modern. In the old days, you had to quilt very closely, or the batting (the soft filling of the quilt) would shift and you would have lumps and wodges of batting in some spots and none in others. Traditional quilting therefore leaned heavily on rows of lines, or grids of tiny diamonds, as well as the fancy feathers and fans that result from twisting and curving those close rows. Modern batting allows the lines of quilting to be many inches apart. When this new technology came along, it became the fashion to have very thick batting, with relatively little quilting. Nowadays it's just a matter of what look or feel you want.

With the Windblown Shadows pattern, there are a lot of different shapes that can be emphasized. Like the puzzles in math class where you have to find all the triangles, but some are enclosed in others. You might want to focus on the central squares, or the sort of striped open square that surrounds it. There are pinwheel shapes, and parti-colored squares set on point, in nice rows (except that my rows aren't going to be that precise). I think I like best the ring of diamonds around the central square, so I believe I will emphasize those. That means I will quilt around them. Then the central squares must have something quilted into them, so they won't puff out and make too much of themselves. I have a nice little stencil called Harriet Tubman which has, I think, the same sense of movement that I like in the blocks, so I may use that -- if it fits.

I have also finished the second sleeve of Hopkins. Provisionally. Once I sew it in I will discover whether it is right and whether it matches the first sleeve. I'll let you know.

No hats yet. It could still happen...

We are going camping today. I think we will go here, though there is also this place. Both are favorites of ours, and both have photo tours. So if you want to avoid actual camping, while enjoying nice camping places, go ahead and click on them.

We are very organized about our camping gear, and can have everything packed in a very short time. Saying things like this qualifies as tempting fate, so we will be packing up quite early. Then we must pack the cooler, a more complex matter. Number two son has offered to make the shopping list, and I know that he started it off with ingredients for s'mores. And then we have appointments with the hairdresser. On the day we are going camping? What can I say? This was the only choice, even though we called over a month ago. My hairdresser is very popular. At least we will be looking good to the deer and squirrels.

This is the Windblown Shadows quilt in progress. The "shadows" part of the name refers to the fact that every other block is the same -- in mine, rose and green -- and thus is like a shadow to the corresponding scrappy block. This does away with the solid squares usually created between the blocks in a Windblown Squares pattern, and gives more sense of movement -- or at least that is the idea. You cannot tell what the overall effect will be from one completed strip of blocks.

One completed strip. Not much progress, though it is understandable since I am spending so much time lazing about. Also I have dog helpers. Dog helpers are not the key to speed in quilting. I feel sure that this will not surprise you.

Dog helpers are not the key to speed in any task, as a matter of fact. Here Toby is helping with number two daughter's homework for her summer class. Said homework  was already late when I went to bed last night, and is now either turned in or really, really late, depending perhaps on how much help the dogs provided. I was certainly not able to provide any help at all. I am familiar with Dorian Mode, of course, and can list some songs in it, but can hardly be expected to know what actual notes are involved. And while I can hear when a modulation has taken place, that does not mean that I can see what the modulation was. I think number two daughter was asking not because she needed help or thought I could help, but just to point out my ignorance. At least I did not lie down on her notebook.

And here is Toby, not helping with anything, just being silly.

Number one daughter has a new dog at her place. We are encouraging her to make a xanga and put her dogs' pictures up, because otherwise, we fear, we will never see those pictures and have to imagine the dogs from her descriptions, which was all very well before the advent of photography, wasn't it? Same with her various places of residence. She has moved every few months since she got married, always to places where I have never been, and has yet to show me a single photo. She fears that her life is not interesting enough for a xanga, but we assure her that no one promises their xanga will be interesting to anyone else, and I know hers would be interesting to me.

However, as a member of the knitting blogs ring, I did promise to write about knitting, and I intend to fulfill that promise right now.

I never did find the missing skein of gray yarn for Hopkins, so at last I gave up and bought another. The problem about that is that the chances of my finding the same dye lot are slim. In fact, since I did not save the ball band (the paper around the yarn, on which is printed the dye lot number) and therefore did not even know what dye lot I wanted to match, the chances were virtually nil. When you switch dye lots, you are likely to come up with an obvious line where the colors have changed slightly. This is why, when you buy yarn, you are always advised to check the dye lot numbers on the band and buy enough of one dye lot for your entire project. Except that doesn't help if you lose the last skein.

Elizabeth Zimmerman, who has a lot of good advice on running out of yarn -- enough that you can't help thinking she must have done it herself rather a lot -- recommends knitting a couple of rows with the new yarn and then a couple with the old yarn, and so on for several inches. I have done just this, and you can see from the very dull picture I offer you here, that it works quite well. The heatheriness of the gray probably helped, too. But the upshot is that the sleeve of Hopkins is saved -- at least so far.

The Sophie bag also continues, though I am mostly saving it for the camping trip. With any luck, I will complete the mathematically complex sleeve of Hopkins before we go, and do the very easy Sophie while camping. Sometimes, though, I've gotten involved with my reading and set Hopkins aside in favor of easy Sophie. Some knitters always keep an easy and a more challenging project in progress so that they can do this.

Number two son and I also mended the trebuchet, which has been invited to a class on the Middle Ages. Number two son fears that it has gotten warped, out in the weather, and will not have the precision aim it used to have. Ah, well. Precision is, for some of us, an unattainable goal.

Today, we may get around to those hats. Or not. Who knows what we might do? This is a vacation.

Having completed the Urban Section of my vacation, and not yet ready to set out on the Wilderness Section, I am having the Lazing At Home Section. I'm using this time to work on my Windblown Shadows quilt.

Windblown Shadows is a Thimbleberries version of the traditional Windblown Squares block. You will note that it is composed entirely of triangles. Now, what level of accuracy and precision do you suppose I am bringing to this project? Do you think I have all those crisp points and even corners? Of course not. You get crisp points and even corners through highly accurate cutting and piecing, and I am just not made that way. I rely on elegant low-contrast color combinations, heavy pressing, and close hand quilting.

The process? As you may recall, there were hundreds of little triangles cut and sorted into tidy bundles, as seen in the top left corner of the picture at right. These are sewn together into squares, forming a sort of kite tail chain of squares like little flags, as seen in the rest of the picture.

Then the squares are sewn together according to the chart (the chart in the Thimbleberries book, not the one you see here). This is a very counter-intuitive way to sew the squares together, of course -- that's what gives you the windblown aspect of the block. So it is that I have to put the chart right by my sewing machine and follow it every time. In this picture, you can clearly see the imperfections of my work. I have no shame. Once it's quilted, it will not look imperfect any more. It will have handcrafted charm. Or, as one of my favorite quilting books puts it, "That Dorky Homemade Look."

Once the blocks are made, they are sewn together into strips. Really disciplined quilters make all the squares, then all the strips of squares, then all the blocks, then the strips of blocks, and then they put them together. I rarely even have all the fabric bought before I start sewing, so obviously I am not going to do it in the correct way.

I am also doing some knitting. Here is the Sophie Bag. I had it beyond this at one point, having done some knitting while chatting with people on my travels (no one said a word about my knitting), but I frogged it and began again. And why not? I am on vacation. There is no hurry.

And, well, yes, I am cooking and cleaning and grocery shopping. And getting up early to cook breakfast for my husband. But the sheer amount of time I am spending lying about reading and knitting, or sewing the quilt while watching silly Netflixes, definitely qualifies this as a vacation.

Ahem. I also have a whole bunch of fleece, or roving, or something, which I intend to turn into felted hats today by wrapping them around a Gertie ball and bouncing them around in hot soapy water. The whole thing (Felted Hat Kit --scroll down the page) sounds so random and mad that I am hopeful of being able to persuade number two son and number two daughter to join me in it.

On our Sunday morning walk, we saw an intriguing sign on the Trolley Tracks Trail path, which said to "maintain reasonable speeds." Since it appeared to be a walking path, we were mystified by this. Was it to prevent speedwalkers bowling over the elderly, or was it a warning to Sunday strollers not to dawdle?  My aunt was able to tell us that this message is for bike racers.

This was followed by Sunday morning newspaper and breakfast before we set off on further touristy adventures. Sunday was a big architecture appreciation day. I could happily have spent several more days in the same way. Then came the driving on KC freeways, complete with several minutes of stark terror when off-ramps of the particular kind that set off my phobic reaction would suddenly and without warning appear beneath my wheels. This was okay; I can handle stark terror for a few minutes at a time, even with my children laughing at me.

We attended the reception, did a little open-air reading and tree-climbing, and then headed up to Dr. Drew's place. The initial conversation was very slightly nervous-making. I wanted to make a good impression, for Pokey's sake, and have reason to believe that Dr.D's parents are Republicans. So, as potentially-delicate topics like the poet laureate arose, I tried to mask my natural opinionated outspokenness with wholly unnatural tact. After a bit, we gathered around the piano to sing hymns, and after dinner we played Cranium, so I think I was able to squeak through.

Monday began with the dispiriting news that the only reasonable route from Dr. Drew's place to ours was back through the city. Then we had the long drive with number two son keeping us to schedule. "We will have to pass all four exits within two and a half minutes," he would say, or "We'll have to be in Joplin within the next sixteen minutes to keep on schedule." We did not ask him to do this; it was his own contribution to the fun of the day.

I have said that this is a predictable drive, but of course the human element can always overcome that. Near Big Elk campground we had a near-death experience as an old lady stopped at the stop sign of a crossroad and then, without looking at all, drove right across the highway. She seemed to feel that she had done her part by stopping, and that those of us who were coming down the road at 45 miles an hour toward her had the responsibility beyond that.

So I put on the brakes and turned the car sharply to the left, coming to a screeching halt nose-to-nose with the cars waiting on the other side. Number two daughter says that they gave us a rueful wave, as if to say, "Don't mind Velma -- she's always like that." The culprit drove off, serenely unaware that she had narrowly missed killing us all. I was able to get off the road and calm down for a minute, and then went on again. Fortunately, there had been a "Reduced Speed Ahead" sign, so I had not been driving at 70 mph, but it would have been more honest for them to put up a "Beware of Dotty Old Ladies" sign as well.

We got back in time for number two daughter to get to work, number two son headed off to tell his posse about his adventures, and I curled up with my knitting and a good book and enjoyed a lovely summer thunderstorm. It is good to be home.

No knitting yesterday at all, though my knitting needles came in handy when the conversation at dinner turned to hijackings and possible weapons. The non-knitters were considering whether knitting needles could really result in carnage, and I was able to whip mine out and offer them as evidence.

Otherwise, it was driving, museums, reading aloud of Dancing in My Nuddy-Pants, and eating. We set out early, and weren't expected anywhere till dinnertime, so I got to have that "on the bummel" feeling. We had breakfast out. This is always my preference; I like to start as close to first thing in the morning as possible, and stop for breakfast along the way. The kids were agreeable to this. We crossed the state line before 9:00, with number two daughter reading aloud to us. She is very good at that -- her theater background, I suppose. And the books by Louis Rennison are very well suited to reading aloud. From them we have learned that the country where we live is Hamburger-a-go-go-land.

Along about  noon, we decided to stop and picnic. Accordingly, we pulled off in a town which we knew to contain a small, unusual museum. Really, there is no point in stopping if there won't be some curiosity to check out. Number two son had vetoed the idea of the George Washington Carver Historical Site or the Giant Coal Scuttle, but agreed to visit an historic jail.

Without much difficulty, we found ourselves at the Bushwhacker Museum. There you can see a set of rooms of 19th century vintage (we always find lots of things in such rooms that we have at home; in this case, they had exactly the same punch set and pickle dish we have, and several pieces of furniture just like my mother's). You can see medical and dental equipment from the time, including a Tonsil Snarer. This mystified me a little. It sounds as though you would be lurking around trying to trap the tonsils, while I would have thought they were essentially stationery.

You can also see the old jail, which was in use from 1860-1960. Thisis a truly horrifying thought. It's one thing to see some barbaric prison from the days of the Old West, and quite another to think of people in the twentieth century still being in one. The sheriff and his family lived in the building, too, and the sheriff's wife cooked for all the prisoners. There was one female sheriff there, the first in the United States, and I suppose she had to do the cooking along with her other duties.

From this refreshing interlude we emerged to find that we were locked out of our car. Never mind how it happened. We tried to open it with sticks, we sent number two son back to the museum to beg a coat hanger from the kind docents, we sent him back in a little while to ask if they would call the police to come and open it for us -- they don't do that in that town, by the way, unless you have a child locked inside.

Fortunately, a good Samaritan came along and helped us out. He had tools in his car, and the needed skills, and had us back in our car within about 45 seconds. We were very thankful. However, having spent half an hour on this adventure, we decided to skip the picnic and eat while we drove.

We arrived in the Big City without incident and made our way to the Nelson Atkins Museum of Art. There are no words to do this place justice. There are paintings by all your old favorites, artifacts and art objects from all over the world, and sculptures. People are allowed to go in and enjoy these things at no cost. One lady who passed by us with a passel of children said that she would hate to do the dusting there, but otherwise I think everyone was entranced by the sheer beauty of the place. Number two son liked best the paintings with dreamlike landscapes, perhaps especially those which began with a foreground of intense detail and then ended up with dreamlike mists in the background, and the twenty-foot tall seated Buddha. Dr. Drew, who met us there, said the entire second floor was his favorite. I think I was most impressed by the Chinese furniture, the Japanese paintings of the Edo period, the 17th century English ceramics, the 20th century paintings, and -- well, perhaps for all of us there was so much to find impressive that it is impossible to choose just a few things.

We joined my aunt at her home. If I lived in a big city, I would want to live in a neighborhood like hers. She can walk to the Nelson Atkins, and to any number of interesting coffee shops and bookstores, but she also has trees and flowers and things. Her son and his girlfriend joined us for dinner, and we enjoyed the visit very much.

Some people find themselves disoriented when they wake up in a strange place, but I only have two questions: is it too early to get up, and can I get a cup of tea? I chanced getting up, and found no tea, but did find coffee, croissants, and elderberry jam. The kitchen is thus my next objective. I hope you are all enjoying your weekends as much as I.

We are heading out for a three-day weekend in the Big City. We will be on Rt. 66 for only a very short time -- Joplin to Carthage. Fortunately, this book has plenty of intriguing historical details (did you know that Belle Starr was born in Carthage?) about these two cities. The road we are taking has, however, been an important road for much longer than Rt. 66. We will be following the paths of the Old Military Road, the telegraph wires, the Butterfield stage coach, and the Trail of Tears.

Nowadays, of course, it is merely a matter of pointing the car north and letting it have its head. Except for Joplin, where you have to pay attention for a few minutes if you do not want to go to Branson, which we do not.

We have made this particular journey many times -- probably eight times for me and twice that many for number two daughter. There was one trip when my husband was driving the return journey and he developed the conviction that we were headed north instead of, as we should have been, south. On this occasion, our kids were in number one daughter's car behind us. It was a stretch of road with no useful signs, going through undifferentiated farmland for many miles. I was pointing out the sun, and the fact that we had not turned around at any time since leaving the city, but my husband has an excellent sense of direction -- which had unfortunately at that moment taken some kind of vacation -- and it was telling him that he was heading north. The girls in the car behind us were watching our spirited discussion with alarm as their daddy slowed the car down to a crawl. I was arguing for stopping at the next exit and asking at the first farmhouse which way was south, but of course this idea did not appeal. Eventually, a sign appeared, and all was well.

Other than this kind of entertainment, which cannot be counted upon, it is a predictable drive.

Since I have Overcome Agoraphobia, I am experiencing almost no trepidation and very few irrational worries about our freeway drive today. We have prepared our list, as Jerome K. Jerome recommends, and packed up our car with the essentials only. A book to read aloud on the drive (Dancing in My Nuddy-Pants), one each for reading there (mine is Envious Casca), some food in the cooler for actual lunches, a modicum of clothing and toothbrushes, and approximately three cubic feet of snacks for number two son. Number one son is staying home with his dad. He is sixteen, and can apparently imagine more exciting possibilities for the weekend than visiting a great-aunt and attending a reception at the college.

The question of what knitting to take vexes me still. Hopkins's first sleeve required advanced mathematics and several reference books to complete, so the remaining sleeve is clearly not my first choice. I cast on for a second T-shirt, but was quickly reminded that it involves a lot of shaping, and is easy to lose track of. Elizabeth Zimmerman recommends making lace shawls in the car, but I dismissed this idea out of hand, as I'm sure you would as well.

Most knitting bloggers would have no difficulty here, because they have enormous stashes and numerous favorite patterns consisting of rectangles of stockinette or possibly even garter stitch. I have yarn for three projects, none of which is suitable (the third is the Alice Starmore Fair Isle cardi called Erin, using I believe 18 colors). I also have two skeins of Classic Wool, in two different colors, and one skein of Jewel Box. I think it likely that I will end up making something to be felted. Perhaps a small bag. I suppose it will have to be a small striped bag. I would not attempt serious colorwork in a car, and I would not in any case go to that trouble for something which will end up felted. I have about 15 minutes to make a decision on this.

It is time to begin winkling my fellow-travellers out of bed. Jerome K. Jerome is very funny on this subject in both of his books. I will take what comfort I can from remembering those humorous passages while doing it.

Most of my tag-ees have posted their quiz answers by now, and there are some interesting answers, and some new books (for me, at least) and some that you might have forgotten.

Over at Ozarque's place, they have an interesting discussion going about religious language. (Today's is basically one nasty guy attacking everyone, so go back a day or two.) There is one particular notion that struck me as really interesting, and that is that Christians feel guilty about evil in the world. Not that they should feel guilty, but that they do. Most of the folks discussing this are not Christians, of course. Here's the argument: Jesus said that if you have just a little faith, you could move mountains. Christians pray for peace in the world (for example). If they had faith and prayed right, they would be able to create peace in the world. Since they have not been able to do so, they have messed up, and feel bad about it.

They are talking about language, and are specifically forbidden to discuss theology, but hey! We're talking about knitting, right? So we can discuss theology if we want to. And here's my problem with this: I don't think they're talking about prayer.

It's the same problem I have with folks who come into the store talking about how their science experiment "didn't work." If you put a bunch of ingredients together with the expectation of a certain outcome and think you failed if you get a different outcome, then you are not doing scientific experiments: you are cooking.

If you say certain words with a certain attitude, and feel responsible for the real-world outcome, then you are casting spells, not praying. "Prayer" assumes the existence of God. Otherwise, it's magic.

Since I assume that Christians believe in God, and do not think their prayers are magic, I don't think they're going to feel guilty if their prayers don't "come true." For me, this lends the discussion of how Jesus's remarks on mustard seed make Christians feel a sort of surreal air. Just as I didn't quite know how to help the customer who wanted "a poster of the spectrum from black to white." If your premises and definitions are very different from the person you're talking with, it makes it hard to have a sensible discussion.

So -- for the religious and irreligous of whatever persuasions -- do you think prayer and magic are the same thing? Do you ever feel guilty for the inadequacy of your prayers?  Do you think we all sound this far off when we talk about religions other than our own (I'm thinking specifically about the many discussions of Islam you can hear nowadays)? Just curious.

On the knitting front, I am heading out for a long drive tomorrow, and a long drive back on Monday, and there will be another driver along, so I might get to do some passenger-seat knitting. Thus, I am debating whether to begin some project with long stretches of unshaped one-color stockinette. Today. After work. In between cleaning the house and packing the car. Any ideas?

Tomorrow at 6:00 p.m., my annual vacation will begin. We do not yet have any firm plans for it, a circumstance which is unusual for me -- as you know, I am not the spontaneous type. I am more the extemporaneous type.

I believe in the contrast theory of vacationing: whatever your ordinary circumstances, you should go for the opposite during vacations.  If you usually work alone, you should vacation with lots of people. If you work outdoors, you should vacation indoors. If your regular round is one of pampered leisure, overseeing numerous minions, then you should go build for Habitat for Humanity on your vacation.

I work indoors, with many people, taking care of things and people. So I figure my vacations would ideally be spent outdoors, in relative isolation, with few things to take care of. Naturally, camping is one of my most common vacation choices.

My husband, coming as he does from an undeveloped country, has always had trouble seeing the value of leaving your home full of all mod cons and going to stay in the woods with none of the usual comforts. However, he has always humored me with this, and he has all the skills a camper needs. Our children, having grown up on regular camping trips, also have those skills -- packing the car or the cooler or the picnic hamper, putting up tents, starting fires -- they can be counted upon.

In the past couple of years, we have done less family camping, since the kids are now more likely to have plans with their own friends. Sometimes we take their friends camping, of course, and sometimes they go camping with their friends' families, but the days of family camping several times each year are gone.

 The year before #2 daughter went away to college and #1 daughter got married, we had what was for us quite a luxurious vacation, and I remember thinking then that it might be our last whole-family vacation. It was. (At least so far -- I know great-grandparents who go camping with their whole extended family, and hope to be one of those myself some day.)

Now, we also live in a rural area, and just in the nature of things, we see few new sights in our everyday lives. So I also like to go to some more urban place and do some sightseeing. Our vacations are, then, generally some combination of these two approaches.

We have twice camped in an actual metropolitan area. The first time, we stayed at what was billed as a lake, but we felt as though we were camping in a parking lot. The second time, we stayed at a KOA, and felt as though we were camping directly on the freeway. In both cases, the sightseeing was champion, though, so there are always plusses and minuses. We are toying with the idea of visiting the nearest big city for a day or two.

Since we live in a region that people flock to for the sake of the excellent camping, however, we often stay within a few counties of home, combining camping with day trips. In these cases, we have quite perfect camping, but the sightseeing is more along the lines of a bit of the Berlin Wall, Miss Laura's Hello Bordello (the only tourist welcome center in the country which is housed in a historic brothel), or a nice guided cave. Don't think I don't enjoy these things -- I do. We are also toying with the idea of visiting some of our favorites among these minor tourist attractions, or even seeking out some new ones.

The third option is the Vacation at Home. I would enjoy having some extended time to work on craft projects, entire days during which I have nothing particular to do and plenty of time in which to do it. But the Vacation at Home always sounds much better in the magazines than in real life, because in real life it so easily turns into a week of cooking and cleaning and driving kids places.

Looking through the family photo albums, I see that one of our favorite approaches has always been to go On the Bummel. That is, to set out with a rough idea of where you are going, and how long you have available, but otherwise just to do what you please. This has, in the past, taken us to many enjoyable places which we might otherwise not have found. An adventurous spirit and a few maps are all you need for this kind of vacation. And the camping gear in the trunk, of course.