"Hey Beaky... I'm not touching you!"
(picture: Bo and Sally in Germany 1982)
As a kid, traveling for days in the back of the car from army post to army post my brother and sister knew one sure way to drive me crazy. I could take the knee creeping onto MY SIDE. I even could withstand the wet-willy. But call me Becky, and it was over.
After years of arguments my mother threatened to them to the top of the car if they called me Becky one more time. She even used the laser eyes.
So after a few minutes of peace my brother leaned over and whispered "Hey Beaky!"
Over the years it has morphed, and now I am just Beak.
And Beak loves to knit.
Why she Knits?
So there we were, parked in Heidelberg Germany for a year. I was seven. It was cold. We had no yard. Thankfully my Grandmother figured a second grader stuck inside a lot could use something better to do than talk her younger brother into getting his head stuck in the apartment building’s stair rail, again.
So when she came to visit for Christmas she brought yarn, and a how-to book and needles. My hands have been busy ever since.
(picture: Grandmother in Tokyo 1952)
Since having my girls (four and two) I do a lot more knitting. Mostly stuff for them, but occasionally I manage something for myself. I have found it is great to take along to doctor’s offices, reading time at the library and gymnastics. It can be dropped quickly when a knee is skinned but still leaves me with something tangible from all of the “idle time” motherhood brings.
Oh, and in my defense on the stair rail thing, he did have a pretty big head.