So one day, right after the New Year, I emailed my Dad asking him if he could cut me out a big arrow with holes for lights. This wasn't entirely random, he does a lot of beautiful woodwork, including making our dining room table out of an old door. Which I love. So I figured he could whip up an arrow. Sigh.
I couldn't find any before pictures of my own living room, so I borrowed this one from Joann's blog Woman in Real Life
The last time we talked about it, a few weeks after the original email, he asked me which way the arrow should point. To which I responded it should point down the hall. Then he pointed out that the way an arrow points depends on how you hang it, not how you cut it. Then he laughed uproariously at me. Sigh. And then time seriously began to pass.
My birthday rolled around mid March, and I came home to find a HUGE blue tarp in our office that I swear looked like it was concealing a body. Attached to it was a floating owl balloon and a card signed Bonnie and Clyde.
It contained a gigantic arrow that had until recently directed wayward tourists to a wee little pond where said tourists could engage in a little captive fishing for a fee. I won't tell you how my parents came by it except to say it is a funny story involving hammers, leverage, a speedy get away, and that if I told you the whole tale it could lead to their arrest.
Mom didn't think I'd actually hang it. Ha.
This summer I decided to paint it with chalkboard paint because why not. The kids were not sure about this decision until I told them I would write Happy Birthday Whoever on it when the time came. I think I had to promise Bayley I would write Happy Birthday Bayley Queen of All She Surveys, or something similar. I'm sure she'll remind me next February.
|Harper Ann demonstrates how a chalkboard works while Poosh wonders what the hell is going on. |
Dogs don't understand chalkboards; that's my theory anyway.
So that is the story of the arrow, and how my parents embarked on a life of crime. It actually was a bit of a spree. A few months after the March surprise they came by and, well...
They said it was an eye sore. I think they developed a taste for illicit trout pond sign acquisition.