Ah, Memories

As O's mom and I approach our 10 year wedding anniversary, this story got me reminiscing. Not of the beautiful location where our wedding was held (a church) or the time and resources we and our parents invested in the event.

No, it got me thinking of art.

Oh, how I feel this poor girl's pain. Although, I think I can one-up her.

You see, on the day before our wedding, we visited our lovely reception hall to deliver flowers and other decorations. The hall was home to the Fort Wayne Woman's Club... the fine art connoisseurs of Northeast Indiana. We'd booked it months in advance.

As we walked in, something was different. Hmmm. What was it? Oh yes. The tastefully pale green walls of the banquet room were covered in "art."

You see, the ladies of the Woman's Club have an "art show" every fall, an evidently very important annual event that must have slipped their minds at the time we booked the room. And, by "show" I mean they stack gas station parking lot paintings one on top of the other, three and four high, covering every inch of available wall space.

It was lovely, as the police report would have surely noted if my dear wife-to-be had not been restrained.

"It's art," the woman with a death wish kept repeating. "You should be thanking us that your guests get to enjoy this at your reception at no extra charge."

In the end, we took down a couple of pieces here and there, just to give the impression that a wall actually stood there, poured and drank lots of wine and the event went off beautifully. No one even mentioned the art. At least no one who lived to tell about it.

UPDATE: Problem solved. Mowing. We should've tried that.