Dearest Knitting Diary, Passover has always been my favorite holiday. The classic lesson of justice prevailing never gets old: the recalcitrant Pharaoh, after suffering the ten plagues that he basically brought on himself, is forced to free the Hebrew slaves that had built his cities. (Although, Diary, I have always wondered what sort of victory party it was for us, being freed into the desert and wandering it for 40 years…) And so we have two Seders each year to retell the story of Pharaoh’s defeat, and to honor those ancient slaves and celebrate their subsequent freedom.
But now that I am old enough to be nearing my next inevitable midlife crisis (big sigh!), I have a slightly different perspective on this beloved holiday of my childhood.
As I was standing in my kitchen for the sixth straight hour yesterday, thinking about all of the knitting projects I wasn’t working on, but required my urgent attention, I realized that my feet were positively killing me. And I caught myself, more than once, being quite ill-tempered with anyone who dared enter the kitchen whilst I worked. Also, I felt mostly dead, and the guests had not even arrived for the Seder yet! And as ever, this is the umpteenth holiday to fall on a school night this year. (Diary, why can’t we just have “Passover Sunday” each year?) After 5000 years, apparently I’m still a slave to Pharaoh! Well, for two days each year that is.
For weeks in advance I scoured San Diego County for Passover products, veritable contraband in this part of the country. For days I cleaned the entire house, base boards and all, in preparation for the Seder (Diary, why do I sweat this even though no one ever leaves the Seder table once they’ve sat?). Then of course, using only matzo, I had the annual folly of cooking a delicious feast that’s fit for celebrating the liberation of our ancestors. (Diary, are Jews genetically predisposed to matzo-tolerance? Can anyone else on earth eat it and survive?). A formidable challenge at best: I made matzo stuffing for the turkey, matzo-meal popovers, and an apple kugel (with matzo of course). This year I even attempted a flourless chocolate torte. It required 12 eggs and 16 ounces of chocolate. Needless to say, it tasted like a chocolate omelet. Today, for the second Seder, I will stand in my mother’s kitchen doing dishes until my hands are raw, just as she did in mine last night. And, because Pharaoh was such a bastard (thousands of years ago), I’ve lost two whole days of knitting that I’ll never get back!!
Somehow, I think Pharaoh is laughing at us from his sandy crypt.
PS: Diary, why does “The Ten Commandments” always air on Easter weekend, when it’s actually a Passover story??
{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }
I’m impressed with all of your work…I just hope everyone appreciated all that you did! Just think of how the kids are learning from it. More memories made! Tonight have the 2 boys do the dishes, tell them it is a ritual on the second night
I just love how Karenne puts a positive spin on things! I bet she wasn’t standing for 6 hours in the kitchen though – she was probably curled up somewhere nice and comfortable with her knitting!
I loved your story.