This book includes some knitting as a matter of course, since it was written in the first half of the 20th century, when women knitted as universally as they cooked. At one point it says that Lucy “went on knitting repressively,” which must be a lost art. Another time it says that “knitting conduces to aimless thinking: the occupation of one’s hands seems to propel one’s thoughts along already worn grooves.” I can’t quite agree with that, either. It seems to me that the aimless thinking that goes along with handwork is often very far-ranging. But that may just be me.

The back of the T-shirt is blocked and matches the dimensions of the pattern schematic exactly. Always satisfying, that. I am not sure you can see the pretty detail down in the lower right-hand corner, but you can certainly see the extreme jaggedness of the shoulder. I may not do that shaping in the same way again, though it will not show once it is sewn together.

In any case, I am glad I was able to post this picture, after only three days of attempts. I did not do anything different. Computers are like that. One of the older ladies in my Sunday School class mentioned that she had had trouble getting online one day and therefore had called the phone company and had them send a man out. I said, “You have no kids in your house, huh?” There is a sense of helplessness when the computer does things you don’t want it to and vice versa. You can’t negotiate with them, after all. But the kids can manage them well. For example, I am now listening to Tonton David, a Francophone reggae guy. Could I have arranged for the computer to play this? No way. Yet my son, who cannot prepare his own breakfast (to hear him tell it) can easily do this.

I knitted at the curriculum fair, of course, whenever I had an opportunity. It did not seem to keep people from coming up to my table, and it made me feel that I was not wasting my time in between customers. A little boy came up to ask what I was doing, and I explained that I was making the thread (hold up skein) into a cloth (hold up sweater). He digested the idea solemnly and then said it might be like crochet, and I agreed. Smart child. The encyclopedia salesman who had the booth to the left of me, however, said, “Are you chewing gum, too?” This was about the caliber of joke he was telling me all weekend, bless his heart. He didn’t sell any encyclopedias, either, even though he had come a long way and stayed in a hotel in the extremely boring town in which the fair was held, so I forgive him all of it.

Sunday, I caught up on baking, laundry, and grocery shopping. I noticed that there are 15 in the choir at my new church, and that I knew the names of 11. Likewise, there are 11 in the Sunday School class, and I know the names of 9. So I think I can learn the remaining 6 pretty quickly and begin to feel settled there. We enjoyed our meal with my parents. I enjoy taking my kids out in public, because they are so well-behaved, well-spoken, and handsome. Don’t tell anyone I bragged like that, okay? I now feel ready to begin this week, which is filled with appointments and such.

Here’s a link to the story about those dogs with eyes of various sizes: “The Magic Tinderbox.” . It is one of the Grimm’s fairy tales. I tend to assume that we all read those as children, but if you did not, then you should do so now. And here is Knitting in Color with some truly gorgeous colorwork done with Peruvian Highland wool. No connection to anything we’ve been talking about: I just don’t want you to miss work of this quality.