Pick-up sticks

I have fond memories of visiting my grandmother's house long ago.  This was the same grandmother who wired tin cans full of bird treats to the fence. She was quite a seamstress in her day, which was, sadly, before I was born.  After she passed away I inherited a big spool of her tatting which I treasure and use very sparingly to embellish my dolls.

Grandma also made beautiful hooked wool rugs, and one in particular was my favorite.  It had a deep pile in which I could stab a whole set of pick-up sticks.  It didn't take much to amuse me.  It still doesn't.

I've never lost my fondness for pick-up sticks.  It's just that now I play in the park. I walk among the trees (we have lots of those in Connecticut) and pick up sticks to use as arms and legs for my dolls.  They can't be too wet, too buggy, too barky, or too knobby....although once in a while a little knob makes a good elbow or knee.

This Santa made his way...a little bit late....to the old hotel Christmas fair last weekend.  I don't know yet if he sold.  If not, he'll come back home with me and I'll find a spot for him to sit with the other unsolds.  I'll give him a little pep talk and tell him not to get down on himself, that not every Santa doll gets adopted every year.  I may have to fatten him up a bit and make him look a little more jolly.  And a pair of pants probably wouldn't hurt.