After driving 30 minutes each way to pick up Selma from French Theater camp–I had just gotten home when the director called to say I’d left my knitting bag… Should she leave it at the camp for me to pick up on Wednesday or take it home with her. (Wait until Wednesday to work on that languishing sock? Be away from my new Flo for 48 hours? I think not.)
Explaining that it contained work (i.e. a project I owe to Kim asap), I asked if she could take it with her and asked where she lived. “Rockville,” she replied. Sigh. realizing I had at least another hour on the road, this time I rallied the troops. Jay and Johanna went along to keep me entertained, (Johanna realizing that being a passenger stuck in the car makes for great knitting time) we headed off to battle rush-hour traffic.
When I got to the directors house, she again wanted me to explain what I did for a living, not readily finding the words to do this in French, I stuttered, and switched to English, “um, I teach crochet and knitting, and I design patterns and sell them.” “Oh,” she said, “that must be quite lucrative!” (The French seem to always have funny ways of translating their thoughts into English.) Trying not to laugh, I said, “well, I don’t know about that, but it sure is fun!”
p.s. In my other life as a food-writer, I had an article come out recently in VegNews, you can read about it in my veg food blog, The Comfort Kitchen.