Stick, Man.

I don't need a walking stick, but who knows?  Maybe I'll live to be old enough to need one.  Or, failing that, old enough to look like I need one.  I'm neither yet, but maybe I'll eventually be both. I hope so.  Not because I particularly relish the thought of declining mobility, but only because I recently came across this magnificent specimen of a stick:

If there's something we can all agree on, it's that this is a really great stick.  As you can see from the picture here of me holding it, it's the optimum height for a person like me (for example, me).  This stick and I were meant to be together.

I took it home, and it's been standing it my kitchen for a while, as sticks do when you leave them standing in your kitchen.  Yesterday I decided I would sand it down a little, to remove any ugliness.  So I did.  Then I began varnishing it.  The stick now looks like this:

I will continue to add layers of varnish as and when I feel like it, until such time as it feels right to stop.  At this point I will have a serviceable, beautiful, durable walking stick.  I'm looking forward to that.  I think my stick and I are going to be good friends.

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