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.