Keira sighed as she looked at the heap of unfinished sweaters in the corner of her workroom. She hated to choose between hard work and tradition (two highly-regarded facets of life in the Old Country) but sometimes it had to be done. The sweaters would just have to wait.

She held the vest at arms length, studying her handiwork.

"Maya?" she hollered. "MAYA!"

There was no response. Keira folded the vest over her arm and headed to the living room, where she suspected that Maya was probably busy with homework, or perhaps practicing her folk dancing. Keira smiled warmly as she pictured Maya carrying on the family tradition. Her grandmother would be so proud. Critical, but proud. Grandma never did hold back her feelings.

Entering the living room, Keira gasped in horror.

"Maya, what you doing?! Don't sit so close to TV! YOUR EYES!"

Maya sat cross-legged on the floor, her face so close to the ancient screen that she could feel the static electricity tickle her cheeks. Keira had warned her several times not to sit so close to the TV, but Maya didn't respond well to being bossed around. She rolled her eyes, and half-heartedly scooted back a foot. Keira gave her a look. She scooted back a little more.

"Try this on," instructed Keira, handing over the vest. Maya slipped it on and immediately began to mope, hunching her shoulders and holding her arms stiffly at her sides. Keira clasped her hands together with glee.

"Beautiful! You look perfect. Now if anyone tells you that the leather fringe isn't traditional, don't listen to them. They don't know what they're talking about. Also, they don't know fashion."

Maya rolled her eyes again, and sat back down on the floor. She scowled at the television.

"When are we going to get cable?"

Keira brushed her off as she walked out of the room.

"Why do we need cable? We have all channels from the Old Country. I pay good money for those."

Keira didn't understand why Maya was always going on about cable. She herself had grown up watching the Old Country's local SZC-TV. Their roster of programs featuring round-table debates and political discussions were always very informative. And their coverage of the bi-annual donkey-races was second-to-none. Keira had missed SZC-TV when they moved away from the Old Country, and was relieved to find out that she could still subscribe to it by satellite. It was expensive, but worth it.

She headed towards her workroom, and sat down. The recital wasn't until the evening, so she could still get some knitting done before they had to leave. Besides, she didn't want to arrive in the city too early. She preferred to spend as little time there as possible, and didn't understand why anyone would want to live in a place where land was so expensive, and the soil was so ill-suited to growing root vegetables.

As she reached down to pick up one of the many half-finished cashmere sweaters, she was struck with a thought: she hadn't packed the pickled beets! The Old Country Folkdance would not be complete without the customary "beet leap" finale!

Keira sighed and dropped the sweater. There'd be time for knitting later, but recitals only came around once a year. And for the amount of Maya's whining that she'd had to endure, she intended to make it the best recital possible.

She slipped on her clogs and set out for the pantry to fetch a couple jars of pickled beets. On the way, she called out for Maya to "please peruse the vegetable garden in the back yard for some nice looking turnips". The traditional Old Country headdresses could use some livening up.