I am going to buy Knit Kimono this weekend, if I can find it at either Barnes and Noble or Borders, both are within easy striking distance.
I'll share this on the blog because I don't think Cousin C knows about it, but even if she does, I don't care. Love ya C.
Cousin C lived on Okinawa for a few years. When she came back she bought a house near my parents, and I spent years of my childhood bopping back and forth between her house and mine. Not enough time at hers, too much in mine. I remember the night before her first son was born, we were at the fireworks display at the racetrack, and she hoisted her 9 months and pending little self to the hood of their station wagon to watch the show from the parking lot. And went into labor a few hours later, and Cousin S appeared the next day. I don't think I've ever told him my memories of that, but he'd get a kick out of it. He almost got born at a horse race track.
I spent more time there in my teenage years, especially after I got a driver's license (she was close, but not walking distance). When my home life became surreal, and not in the normal teenage sense, I'd retreat to her house and flop on the big sectional sofa (remember the ones made of individual cubes?) and drink iced tea and watch TV shows starring Bruce Boxleitner, and miniseries featuring Joan Collins. And Cousin L and I would do our nails and laugh a lot, and it was a break from the House of Depression.
But one of the things I remember vividly was that when she returned from Okinawa, she brought me and her sister, Cousin L, kimonos. We were, I think around 6 and 7 years old at the time. Cousin C was heavily into caftans, kimonos, all sorts of floaty things, and still dresses with flair. You should have seen her putting on her gold jewelry to go eat at an open-air casual restaurant on the Intracoastal. Like she was going uptown, baby.
Cousin C was so casual, fun, interesting - I heard the first Beatles albums at her house. In later years I became a Rolling Stones kind of girl, but hey, I was 6 or 7, and Michelle, Ma Belle in Paul's English accent was the pinnacle of exotic and amazing. And I loved that kimono.
And Cousin C will be 65 next year, and is still as much fun as ever. And I want to make her a kimono. She's planning to move closer to her sons in MD in her "Old Age" (as if she'll ever get "old") and she'd be so at home there sweeping around in a knitted kimono when it's cold. And after all, a kimono is my natural destiny, knitting-wise - I love all things geometric and built in interesting ways. It's knitting karma. A karmic knitted kimono.