Every year, like many others, the urge to create something Christmassy hits in November. This year I found the perfect creation thanks to my old heroine, Martha Stewart. (I still have a single legged one-direction sprinkler from her company. Man-Wonder hates it, I love it. Even after the leg broke I continued to use it. . . but when the . . . oh, never mind. That’s another story for another time. Right now, it’s about Christmas.)
So. there I was perusing her magazine when what to my wonderous eyes should appear but an advent calendar with a woodsy twang. Red peg-board. My cabin-in-the-bush heart sang. Man-Wonder’s didn’t but he went along with me because time teaches many things. Off we went to the lumber store. After I finished sniffing the lumber we bought a 2′ x 4′ piece of peg-board and holly-jolly red spray paint.
With the peg-board, and some found doweling for pegs painted, I was ready to hunt down little muslin bags.
Bah! After figuring out the price for 25 bags, my inner Grinch sent me home to make my own. Only once they were made with numbers painted on I still wasn’t satisfied. They looked . . .naked. So out came the embroidery threads and each wee bag got its own picture.
I hung the bags and realized the board itself looked unfinished, like it needed trimming. A nice Christmassy braid — that’s what it needed.
Have you ever braided long, like 2 zillion foot long(it felt like it) strips of fabric together? OMG! Man-Wonder ended up standing behind me and unraveling the tangles as I braided — mostly to stop my flow of dirty words.
In the end the trim looked great. But I still wasn’t 100% with the bags. Maybe bobble-locks on the drawstrings would perfect them out and, luckily, I had a bag of them in the hobby room. Unluckily, they were black. . .
. . .Back outside, on a ladder, between our carport and the neighbour’s hedge I strung a string of bobble-locks and sprayed the bejesus out of them (and here’s hoping nobody notices the white overspray on the rhodo leaves before spring).
But, yeah, those bobble-locks did the job so that meant one last thing to do —fill the bags. It almost broke my heart when I learned that Jack Daniels doesn’t make their Tennessee Fire in teeny-tiny bottles. There went the daily snort of Christmas cheer.
Next best? Candy. JuJubes. Gummies. Alsorts . . . (Though my stinky subconscious did force me to throw some nuts into the mix for value.)
Finally. Finally. All was done on Nov. 30th. Just in time.
We’re calling it our Christmas Diet.