Santa, circa 1963. A Brownie Troop project. Odd, indecipherable felt shapes were laid out on a table, and we picked them up one at a time, gluing each subsquent layer upon the previous, until -- ta da! -- Mr. Claus appeared.
To cart out the Christmas ornaments is to delve into my own personal Ancient History: the annual catalog of joys and injuries, pleasures & miseries all boxed up together, a jumble of past lives. Tonight I left more than half in boxes, as did Paul.