Traditions or Destiny...

Tradition, la-la-la-la-la---la--- as Topol would say. Destiny, destiny, no escaping destiny, as Dr. Frankenstein would scream.

In the Woody Allen fashion, if this were a movie, I would insert the inevitable flashback. I would appear as a child, surrounded by my father and my mother's family. The ones discussing the making of the sweaters, the others the selling of the sweaters, while my mother would pat me on the head, telling me I would not knit sweaters or sell them, because I was going to go to school. So there I was, dressed in an orange and yellow knit sweater, thinking that I could escape the power of the ancestors. Mind you, my mother's point of view, and rejection of all items knit, or made of wool could be understandable.

You see, my family miraculously survived the war in France, and like many other Jews, it took time for them to rebuild their lives. When my mother was about 6 years old, they decided they could go with the children on vacation. So they went to the northern beaches. Being Mediterranean Jews, North meant cold. So my grandmother got some nice old-fashioned wool, and knit the children some warm bathing suits. Imagine, my mother and her younger cousins, scratching constantly, because the wool was shall we say of the vintage sort, with the women of the family, blindly blaming the sand for the itchiness. They sent the kids swimming to get rid of the "dirt", and I think this is when my mother swore never to knit, and that she would break the traditions. The wool drank the water, half emptying the sea, and got so heavy that when the children got out of the water, the bathing suits had streched all the way to their knees. I can hear the voice of my grandmother "What did you do to the bathing suits, such good bathing suits, no more playing roughly in the water! Have respect for what you own..."

I did learn to knit. Whenever my mother would leave me with the ancestors, the knitting needles would magically appear, as well as the balls of yellow and orange. " Do you want Mamie to teach you how to knit?" So I learned. I developped sort of a double life, bookworm at home, knitter at my grandmother's. Even though my fate remained uncertain for a while,
like Dr. Frankenstein, traditions pulled me back in, but this time completely. I may not stand next to my knitted sock, yelling "it's alive, it's alive!", but I do run around the house, parading it, and showing it to every person I can, saying it's a...mazing, no?!

Between Boston and le Mont St Michel

Good morning Boston! This is what I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs in the morning on my deck as I take in my first breath of fresh air, and look in the distance. See, I stand on the deck in my pj's because I need a little help with the getting up at 5 routine. So one single breath of that CRIIIIISP morning air, and I am awake. Ok it is beautiful too, and it is worth the cold air, and I love the thought of greeting Boston every morning. Boston is not just a proper noun, it is alive. It has its own heartbeat made up of the thousands of hearts that beat in it, its thought is the thoughts of its people combined. Today, I know Boston will smile, because the sun has come back. Boston will smile at the Crocus that are starting to pop up everywhere like little colorful Jack in the box pantins. The city will laugh like thousands of children running and playing in the gardens and playgrounds, "she" will enjoy its lunch in the Boston Commons listening to the songs of the birds. Today, Boston will wear all its jewels, sparkling diamonds, glistening gold, deep saphires, all this over a simple garb, but I know that in a few weeks she will put on the most beautiful dress of emerald spring, adorned with jewels of pink tourmaline, citrine, peridot, ruby, amethist, garnet...
In a few weeks I'll take the sock and the children to the park. The children will play, run and scream, while the sock and I will sit together and enjoy the air, and the sun.
Actually, we may give it a try today, I feel like taking the children to the Boston Commons after school, and letting them run around duck pond and feed the ducks, while the lace sock and I make some progress in our work. The ostrich feather pattern is so much fun that I had a hard time stopping last night to prepare dinner, which meant that it was omelette night! But it was a fantastic omelette. I mean you really have to try this. The taste was just like the one of the mere Poulard's omelettes on the Mont St Michel.

So for now Omelette a la Mere Poulard:

You will need 2 eggs per person. Break the eggs and separate the whites from the yolks. Add a pinch of salt to the whites, and beat them into stiff peaks. Beat the yolks slightly. Pour the mixed yolks over the whites, and with a fork, gently incorporate the yolks into the whites, until the two are blended. You should have something like a light yellow egg mousse.
Take a non-stick pan, butter the pan evenly, warm it up, and transfer the egg mousse to the pan, spread it into the pan. Cook on a medium to low fire. Once the bottom is cooked, insert a spatula under the omelette, and fold one half over, continue cooking it a little, then turn it over. Et voila! You now are ready to enjoy "Une Omelette a la Mere Poulard". Serve immediately, with some delicious crusty French baguette, and some Edith Piaf, and I promise that if you close your eyes, you might even believe that you are in France on the Mont St Michel!

Let me know what you think.

Life Goes on...

There are a few reasons why I have not written in a few days. Some are more futile than others, but in general, it turned out to be a very busy, intense week.
First a futile reason: I have not been able to get up at 5 a.m. for a few days, which has meant that I missed the hour of calm before the troups wake up, and I write better when things are quiet. I don't have the endless chain of little complaints ranging from I'm still hungry, to, he took it, and he won't give it back, or I can't find my socks. I was just so tired. Today, it seems that I am back on track.
Then there are less futile reasons, and less futile reasons can sometimes be hard to talk about. One of our family members has been sick with anorexia for a while. This last weekend was a very hard one. I thought I did not have the strength to help any more because it was getting so hard. I don't know if you believe in God. I believe in a universal God, and I prayed so hard that he would give me the strength to continue, and that he would help my loved one make the decision to recover. Miraculously on Sunday, my loved one made the decision to heal, and work day by day at getting better, at accepting feelings, and oneself.
Anorexia is not an easy thing to talk about, and even though it touches at least 1% of the female population, you rarely hear about it from people. How often does someone tell you they have a problem with anorexia, or that a family member does? I always knew that there were socio-cultural causes for anorexia, but I never really realized how strong these pressures were. First, there is school, where they tell you every day of your life, that you should eat healthy foods only, (while serving you the worst foods for lunch) and exercise to stay thin, where some kids now receive "fat" report cards, and are labeled fat. What does that do to the child who receives the card, and to the others who are scared of getting the card? There is fashion. Each time, you go to the mall, you see these skeletal mannequins in the window displays. Trying the clothes on, is only a reminder of how you do not look like them, and should you not since they are the display? There are the movies, in which the beautiful sickly thin actress gets the handome good guy. There are the ads everywhere, eat this and you'll loose weight. The list goes on and on.
When you go food shopping, and you are waiting in line, the magazines there, are nothing but an endless reference to body image, and weight loss. The titles you read while you wait are: lose 10 pounds quick, how to lose your tummy, 10 wonder foods that will make you lose weight, 10 exercises for flatter abs. Then there are the the tabloids, who bombard you with their pictures of skeletal actresses, and the "unfortunate" ones who are comfortable in their average bodies.
Considering that women visit the supermarket at least once a week, if not more, and that they are often accompanied by their children, we can say that women, and children are bombarded with the message that FAT IS BAD, THIN IS GOOD, and TOO THIN IS EVEN BETTER.
Lately, whenever I go to the store, while I am waiting for the cashier to ring me up, I have started turning the magazines to not have to stare at the negative messages. We do not have to sit there and continue to let messages like these be pushed upon us. When I turn the magazine, I say no to the messages, I show my children that they too can say no, and maybe I am helping a few women in line say no.
I know all this is very serious, but it feels good to write about it, and share it with you.

Eventhough I did not write much, I did quite a bit of knitting over the last few days. I finished Paul-Hugo's birthday socks, and started on Alexandra's. I am knitting her socks with a luscious hank of Fleece Artist in a red poppy color, Alexandra's favorite color. It is a lace sock, with an ostrich feather pattern. I am designing it as I knit. I turned the heel of the first sock last night. I probably will knit quite a bit today, during and after our school, because the New England weather has once again tricked us! Spring was here to stay, temperatures in the 60s, sunny, lovely breeze, and then slam, 30s, snow, and sleet. You know how they say you can vote with your wallet if you like or dislike a store, well I am voting with my feet, and they will stay dry and somewhat warm at home in a strong show of disapproval for the current change in weather!

The last thing, but by no means the least important one, is that I am starting a new business, and it has everything to do with knitting. I am not quite ready to give you all the details as I am still in the preparatory stages, but should be ready within a few weeks. All I can say at the moment is that I thank all of you who wrote me e-mails asking me when and what I was going to do now that I was in Boston. You kept me thinking, and inspired me to start something new.

You know, all in all these last few days have been great. We have had birthdays, anniversaries, healing, and starting a new business. This is why I love writing, it makes me see the positive in everything around me. Whoever invented writing is way up there with the one who invented socks!

Happy Birthday Paul-Hugo

Happy Birthday to my big boy Paul-Hugo who is now 11 years old. 11 years ago you were born on April 2 at 8:23 p.m. 11 years ago and every year since, you have been my marriage anniversary present. 11 years ago was a very special day. Rolfe and I woke up that morning, and wondered as you were a little late wether this was the day. We decided Rolfe should go to work as usual. I walked Alexandra to school all the way down he hill. I was about to go do laundry at the laudromat,when you gave me a little warning sign that this was the day that you and I would look into eachother's eyes for the first time. I felt another contraction, mild, and then another 15 minutes later, and then another. I called Rolfe back. He came home, picked up Alexandra from school, and dropped her with our best friends Kevin and Larry. Contractions were now coming closer, but we waited a little longer. We went for a long walk around Alamo Square, and at about 4, decided it was time to go. We did not have a car at the time, so we walked from Alamo Aquare to Kaiser on Geary, by the time we got there the contractions were well established, and you and I got to work. I wanted you to come on April 2 because it would be my marriage anniversary gift to Rolfe, and I think you wanted it as much as I did, and at 8:23 p.m. I got to hold you in my arms and the world stopped for a moment while Daddy and I stared into your eyes. Happy birthday, my love.

The Ozzard of Wiz

The sock pixie lives in the land of the Ozzard of Wiz! (Thank you Skye for the most wonderful name one could think of.) In my land there is yarn everywhere. There is yarn politely sitting in a beautiful basket in the living room, pretending to be disciplined. There is yarn in the bottom drawer of every chest. That is the special time out place for the yarn that misbehaves. There is yarn in all handbags, that's the emergency yarn, the one you pull out when the weird dude won't stop starring at you on the train! There is yarn in the school book shelf, that's the study yarn. There is yarn in the basement, and that's the yarn for the day the world will come to an end. Some people store food and gold, the great Ozzard stores yarn. There is occasionally a project attached to the yarn, in this case socks, but I also know of a few sweaters which are all in time out at the moment!

In the land of the Ozzard of Wiz, there is no need for heat. As long as it is above 40 degrees outside, there will be no heat. The great Ozzard (which might be me) loves to take draconian heating measures, and the values of layering, and wearing sweaters are highly praised. House guests are usually a little surprised at first. They are watched carefully, in case they turn purple before they can reach for a sweater. On a good day, you can even see the great wizzard in her magical coat and scarf inside the house, knitting frantically. "To try and keep her hands warm?" some evil witches would ask.

In the land of the Ozzard of Wiz, the littlest fairy lost her first tooth yesterday, and the great Ozzard started crying in the middle of the street, kissing her pixie which was a baby no more. In this great land, the tooth fairy has odd working hours. If the tooth was lost after 6p.m. she cannot come that night because she did not get enough advanced warning. Sometimes, she outsources the work because she is so busy, and then we run into terrible problems, with incredibly long delays in delivery. Sometimes it seems to the little pixies, and elves that she has not come. They look and they look, and cannot find anything under their pillow. They go eat their breakfast, slightly disappointed, but come back up to their room, after some convincing by the great Ozzard to find that the toothfairy had left something and they just had not looked carefully enough...

In the land of the Ozzard of Wiz, there is a sock factory. One pair is barely finished that another one is started. The socks for the most wonderful mother in law are finished, and socks for the almost 11 year old little elf are in progress. Sometimes the Ozzard loves to just knit the same thing over and over again, but yesterday the wind must have been blowing from a different direction, for she started to knit socks with a seeded rib pattern for the elf, and she just loves it.


In the land of the Ozzard of Wiz, house projects often get sidetracked, and delayed but eventually completed, as will be the case with the living room. It is rarely the case with laundry however, that is always sidetracked! And there is an axplanation for that too! The Sock Monster is responsible. See, the great Ozzard and the Sock Monster have been at war, one producing socks, the other one devouring them. The great Ozzard's war tactics include limiting casualties to a maximum, i.e. as little confrontation as possible, so very little laundry, and a lot of troop buid up, so knit as many socks as possible!

In the land of the Ozzard of Wiz there are some days that are harder than others, mostly because the great Ozzard was up too late knitting, or in this case reading the new Yarn Harlot book...

Of Cars, and Bent Needles

I will not hide that I have my ups and downs and that little things can get me bent out of shape. There is something about Bostonians and cars. Really! They wake up, probably all nice and pleasant, dress up quietly, so as not to wake their sleeping children up, they drink the coffee lovingly prepared by their spouse, they get dressed, paying attention to the details, after all this is one of the most European cities in America, they give a kiss good-bye, they close the door, and go to open the door of their car. And there, at that very moment something happens. They go completely insane. Nothing can stop them anymore. They will go as fast as they can out of their spot, they will zoom away, and they will get there, before the other million people who are posessed by the same demon. They will drive, at full speed, up one way streets. By the way, school buses are not exempt from that either. They will ignore all lights. When parked and trying to get out, they will bump the car in front and the car in the back. When you are crossing, they will show not intent of slowing down, but rather honk at you madly, and swerve around you. Bostonians know no white line. If they miss an exit, no problem, they go across all the lanes, in a mad dash to make that exit!!! They have to be under some sort of magic spell. They will stop at nothing to get the car going, and it can sometimes be a very difficult thing. A few weeks ago we had a snow storm, followed by rain, and then the temperature dropped. Everything froze. The cars, parked along the streets, had about a foot of completely frozen snow around them. I saw women, in high heels, with their little Louis Vuitton purses, pulling little hammers out of their purses, and delicately trying to "ting-ting-ting" hammer the ice. I saw people sit in their cars pushing on the pedal madly to get the car to jump out of its ice cage. I was also saw people dig their car out, but only to bury the car in from of them. Don't think that I just stand there and do nothing. I actually help. This poor man, was desperate, he could not open the car door, and was hopolessly blowing on the key hole, and I got him hot water to try and thaw the lock. The lock thawed, and without as much as a thank you, he sat in the car, and turned out to be the one who tried to make his car jump out of the ice!
While all this goes on, I sit in my comfy chair, a cup of coffee by my side, a pair of socks on the needles, and I watch. Sometimes I have to get up, knock on the window, in particular when a posessed driver starts dumping all the ice and snow in front on my front steps, which I just spent time cleaning in the freezing weather!
Enough of cars for today.


The living room is going to take a little longer than I thought. I managed to finish the second coat on the two walls. That leaves me with a lot of trim.Oh well, I guess there is no rush. It's not like John Kerry is going to drop by for a visit any time soon!


My mother in law's second sock is at the toe, but I don't know what happened to my needle! I left the sock on the kitchen counter last night to go for a walk with Rolfe, and when I cam back the needle was completely bent. I asked the kids, but nobody seems to know anything about it. It almost looks like they did not even know I knit! The conversation sounded kind of like this: "Did something happen to my knitting while I was out?" Response: "What knitting?". "You know, the socks for Inge." "No, I don't know, where were they?" "In the kitchen." " I disn't see them there, and I didn't go to the kitchen." Now if only one of the children repeated these words to me, I could tell which one had a little something to do with the socks, but they all repeat the same thing. I should not have had them all read the Three Musketeers!


Talking about musketeers, makes me think of super heroes, and I think I'll just end my post today with a picture of Skye as "Super Grandma!"

Early Morning Thoughts

I am sitting in my room, the curtains are open, and the sun is rising. Through the windows, against the backdrop of the blue grey sky, with its touch of red eyeliner, I see houses everywhere and the tops of the Boston skyscrapers. That is life. You know for a city, Boston is remarkably quiet at night. It is actually way quieter than Petaluma, where the sounds of the highway seemed to wake me up every night at 4 a.m., and I did not even live close to the highway! Here it is the rising sun that wakes me up every morning.
This morning, I decided to change my routine a little. From now on, I will get up at 5 a.m. with Rolfe, prepare his lunch, and will have my coffee with him. This way I'll spend one extra hour with him everyday. And then, once he leaves I can get to my writing for an hour, and then take care of the family, and be ready to start our school day at 8 a.m.
Now for the update on the house... I am still not done with the living room. I did take the day off from painting on Saturday, but got right back to it on Sunday. Two walls still need a second coat of paint, as well as the odd pillar that sits in the middle of the room, the mirrored cabinet needs a second coat of semi-gloss, and one door needs everything. Well, what do you think, two more days? Then I have to tackle the covers for the chairs my parents gave me, you know the ones in the picture in the previous post. I have been debating between slipcovers, and upholstering. I found the nicest velvety fabric, in a smashing blue color, covered with my favorite flowers, tulips. I have enough fabric for either solution. If you have any thoughts please leave a comment. Any suggestion on how to make a cover are also welcome! I am starting to chew my nails just thinking about it!
I will not procrastinate. NO, I will tackle the task, and be done, and I will not get side tracked by any other project, like a lovely sock. There, that is said.
Talking about socks, well I am slightly behind schedule on my mother in law's socks. I finished the first one, and am on the gusset decreases on the second one. I know that she will love them, even if I am a few days late. While I was working on the socks, I was thinking about how nice it was to knit gifts. Gifts that you take the time to knit, or crochet, or paint, are so much more meaningful than store bought ones. I don't know if it is just because while you work on the project you think about the person you are making it for, or if it's just that you took the time. I find so much value in not rushing through life, so much that you feel rushed to pick a present. It is so easy to just fall prey to the lure of speed and efficiency.You jump in the car, drive off, drop the kids at their activities, run to the store, grab a present and rush back to pick up the kids, stopping at the grocery store to pick up a quick fix meal. I live at a slower pace. Those of you who know me well, know that I don't know how to drive. I live at the pace of my walk. The children and I walk to the library, the grocery store. We may not "do" as much in a day, but we take the time to breathe, and look around us. We take the time to cook meals, we take the time to study, to read, and of course to knit.
In the time that I have been writing, the sky has turned light blue, the red eyeliner has disappeared, I can see people walking in the street, my day has started.