The Jig Is Up :(

The boys figured it out on their own.  They devised an "experiment" to test their hypothesis and then they discovered the ugly truth: the tooth fairy ain't real.

A Special Box

Without telling anyone, my eldest lost a tooth.  When no one was looking, he put his tooth in the special box and then he waited.  And waited.  And waited.  After a week and no coin in sight, he figured that the great mythical fairy was just myth.

An Empty Box?

I suppose it was bound to happen eventually.  It just makes me a little sad.   

Happy Turkey Day

Scarecrow courtesy of MorgueFile.com

Here in the Great White North, it's a long weekend in celebration of Thanksgiving.  At the in-laws, we'll feast on the traditional turkey complete with stuffing, gravy and all the fixings.  And while we sit 'round the table, we'll reminisce and count our blessings.

Pumpkins courtesy of MorgueFile.com

When I was growing up, Thanksgiving was never a big deal in my immediate family (being from rural southern Italy, its not a holiday my parents celebrated).  Instead of turkey, we'd have antipasto, lasagna, followed by veal, veggies and all the fixings of a grand Italian feast (think six-course meal).  Not exactly a traditional Thanksgiving.

Apples courtesy of MorgueFile.com

As I get older, it is not the type of foods we eat that matter.  Rather, it is the time spent with family that matters.  And more important, the recognition that there is value in being thankful and appreciating all that we have--'cuz sometimes it feels as if we don't have much when, in fact, we have more than we think we do.

Corn courtesy of PixelPerfectDigital.com

Corny?  Maybe.  Perhaps just a wee bit nostalgic?  Maybe.  My parents, brother, sisters and their children live halfway across the country.  I haven't seen them in a few years.  Sure we talk on the phone and catch up on Facebook, but its not the same as being together in-person.  I miss them.  And its usually 'round the holidays when I realize how much I  do miss them.

Hope you get to spend this weekend with your family and loved ones.  Have a good Thanksgiving. :)

I Believe . . .

As my children get older, I often wonder when the magic of childhood will disappear.  Know what I mean?  The moment when magic and imagination disappear?  Yet, I need not have worried.  Witness the conversation overheard at our dinner table a few nights ago:

Secondo: Some kids say there's no Santa and its really their parents.
**short pause as I quickly glance at dear hubby**
Me: What do you believe?
Secondo: Oh there's a Santa.  I still believe.
Primo: Yeah, there's a Santa.  I also believe in the Easter Bunny and the Toothfairy . . .
**another short pause**
Primo: But I don't believe in leprechauns.

(picture above downloaded from a photo website--which one I cannot recall.  My sincere apologies to the photograper)

Knitting: A Link to the Past?

For me, knitting is an on-going history of which I am an active participant. I learned to knit from my mother who was taught my her mother and grandmother, who in turn were taught by their mothers . . . and so on, ad infinitum. It goes on much as one stitch connects to the one before it, so too I am connected to my ancestors. And I feel blessed to have been given the chance to learn how to fashion fabric from sticks and string (oddly enough, my sisters never shared any interest in learning to knit, although one of them did sew for a while). I don't have any daughters onto which to pass on my skills, but one of my sons has expressed an interest in learning the craft.

I don't recall the exact age when I learned. Sometime before I turned 10, my mom busily knit many sweaters and such for my youngest sibling (who was in utero). I'm not sure if it was then or some time afterwards that my mom took the time to teach me. I remember she had bought me my own plastic needles; they were bright yellow (my sister had the green ones, but she wasn't too keen on the whole string-and-stick thing in the first place). I distinctly recall making a garter stitch scarf for one of my dolls. With each new row, the thing inexplicably grew width-wise as well as length-wise.

Once I was proficient enough, I naturally sought projects to practise my newly learned skills. Dreamly I browsed through the craft section in our local Woolworths (yea, that dates me, doesn't it). I'd fondle the yarns (yeah, they were acrylic but they were still fun to touch) and browse through the Beehive Patons booklets. The one that stole my heart and fanned my imagination: Patons booklet #139.


See all those Barbie doll outfits? Oh how I loved my Barbies! I ended up making the blue suit, the sheath dress and I think the long coat. I made some cute baby doll outfits too.

The last time I had visited my mom, I discovered to my great disappointment that she had gotten rid of all her old crochet and knitting books and magazines. I was so disheartened! I had hoped to take them all home with me as my mom no longer knitted.

And then one day while browsing through some old craft books at a rummage sale on campus, my little eye spied one Patons booklet: book #139!! I swear I jumped and I think my boys looked at me funny. I snatched that baby so fast . . . my childhood had come back and I could hold it in my hands!

I haven't knit anything out of that booklet--at least not yet. I'm waiting for my niece to be old enough for Barbies (is it wrong to still fondly walk through the Barbie aisle at the toy store?). I'm sure I will some day. . . .

Such good memories filled with fibery goodness--of the acrylic variety of course. After all, it was the seventies (I know. I'm old). Some day, I'll regal you with my fondest crochet memories full of ponchoes, granny-square vests, never-ending afghans and purty doilies . . . good times!!
:)