Gosh, I hate getting old. The thing about being old is that it's really of no concern until it actually happens
to you. And while this occurs at different times for different people, it always catches you off guard. One day you just wake up and realize you're not as young as you used to be. Joints ache, your body's thermostat goes haywire and suddenly your mother is staring back at you in the mirror. It stinks, really. You'll see.
Why all this banter about aging and what, as usual, does it have to do with knitting? Quite a bit actually as these days it is nearly impossible to be a competent knitter without having the computer knowledge of say, Bill Gates. With endless knitting websites and tutorials, You Tube videos, amazing blogs, Flickr, and (damn it all) Ravelry... how's a person supposed to actually get any knitting done? As the
Tsock Tsarina once wrote, "I can either knit or write about knitting but I can't do both." (Or something to that effect. Besides, she lies. Clearly she can do both
brilliantly). Even if there were enough hours in the day to both knit and write, I'm so computer illiterate, it would take me forever to upload, download and everything-in-between. Honestly, I'm one of those people who breaks out a glass of champagne every time I successfully send an attachment to an email. Wherever do I get the nerve to maintain both a website and now, a blog? Please forgive me if it isn't yet...er, pretty. (I can hear your snickering). I'm working on it. (How do those people like
Jared Flood or
Jane Brocket do it?) Until I get it all figured out, I must depend upon the generosity of others. Just this past week, a lovely new customer, ridiculously young and barely knowing her knits from her purls, took pity on me, sat down at my computer and accomplished in minutes what has previously taken me hours to do. It made my head spin.
Slowly, I'll get there.
Being of Italian descent, our family has its own unique way of celebrating the religious events leading up to Easter morning. During my parents' childhood, my grandparents and great-grandparents (as well as the rest of their strictly Italian neighbors in Brooklyn) would not allow any leisure activity during Good Friday. Lights and radios were shut off, the usual continuous cooking ceased and families flocked to the nearby churches to attend mass and celebrate the Stations of the Cross. A mournful mood was maintained with strict observers fasting from Good Friday afternoon until Holy Saturday morning, at which time a huge feast was consumed. During the several days preceding the fast, Italian women everywhere, often cooking together, prepared the specialties of the season, including various meat and cheese-laden pies, (most notably pizza rustica), grain-filled cakes (pizza grana), and both sweet and savory breads decorated with hard-cooked colored eggs. For dessert, there were always several varieties of Italian ricotta-based cheesecakes and pastries. To this day, each year, my own family still re-enacts this great festivity with enormous gusto. My two teen-aged daughters look forward to assisting their grandparents in preparing all the food which, of course, takes the better part of an entire day. Many dozen eggs, countless pounds of salami, prosciutto, cappocola, ricotta, mozzarella and sausages of every size and shape are consumed. It is a sight to behold and a taste to savor. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your own perspective...and waistline), it only happens once a year. Buon appetito!
