It is cold and snow covered here in the Midwest, and I am dreaming about my upcoming vacation. We are going to Paris for a week in March, and I am starting to research and plan my daily itinerary. I know I will be able to find a yarn shop--my sister was just there, and she said she visited one in the Latin Quarter, and I recently spotted one in the film, "Paris, Je t'aime," so I know it is not mission impossible.
A pilgrimage to a droguerie/magasin du laine/tricoterie or whatever they call it, will be an homage to my knitting roots. I was first inspired to knit when I was a poor college student, backpacking around France in the summer of 1980. It seemed that every time I got on a train, I would spy a french woman knitting something tres chic out of gorgeous designer yarns. I fell in love with the possibilities of color and texture, and I begged my mother to teach me to knit when I returned home. My very first project was a wool cap for the french boyfriend (the reason why I was backpacking around France in the first place.) Malheureusement, the boyfriend hat was as cursed as the dreaded boyfriend sweater. We parted ways and moved on with our lives.
It is funny how things work. If I had never dated the french guy, I don't think I would have ever learned to knit. Knitting has been my mainstay in my adult years. It has helped me to de-stress and be creative at times when I was unfulfilled in my work. It has given me lasting friendships, (Monday night knitters - 8 yrs and counting)and a heightened sense of self-esteem (state fair blue ribbons). So to Paris and to my friend Hugues ---Merci.
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