When did you last play pick up sticks? For myself, I can’t remember. But, then, I can’t remember what color socks Kaye laid out for me this morning. And, further, why the heck did pick up sticks pop into my addled brain?
I first thought I would write about Groundhog Day, but I don’t like groundhogs. They eat my birdseed and everything green in my garden. Besides, I can lick my finger and stick it out the window to predict how long the winter will last with just about as much accuracy. I’ve never been to Gobbler’s Knob and it’s certainly not on my bucket list.
I like the old English rhyme that is related to this time of year: “If Candlemas be fair and bright, winter has another flight. If Candlemas brings clouds and rain, winter will not come again.”
So, I got around to looking at my correspondence and decided to talk about loose ends. That led me to pick up sticks. Yes, I’m strange. If I offered you 50 bucks, could you tell me how many of those maple wooden sticks we had in those cardboard tubes when we were kids? If I could find ours, I’d count them. I’d guess the number would be 40 or 41, depending if you count the one that the dog ate in 1953.
When we were as cold as frozen dog bumps in the yard a couple weeks ago, I starting posting “It’s so cold that…” sayings on Facebook. Here’s one: “My car won’t start running and my nose won’t stop.”
We were taking headers and rear-enders on the ice and emergency rooms were busy. We tried to find those sharp things to put on our shoes, but most area stores were sold out. Same with those buckets of ice-melting material. I have a huge black-and-blue mark in a place that I won’t be showing anyone except very close friends and relatives.