Kitchen Art

I'm not much of a scrap-booker. I don't have a collection of Playbills from every show I've performed in. I don't have ticket stubs from all the concerts and shows I've seen. Nor do I have little snippets of tactile memories from the places I've traveled to.

But I do have every single bib from every race I've run. For a while, I put the race name, date and finishing time on the back in Sharpie. But eventually I abandoned that record keeping and just added them to the stack when I got home.

Layer upon layer of race bib sat upon my fridge - magnets were doubled in order to withstand the weight, safety pins jingled with every opening of the door.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday I finally did what Mr. Diva has been asking me (quite nicely) to do for years. I took the race bibs down, and started to clean up the fridge that has been masquerading as a bulletin board.

Now to find them somewhere to live, other than the kitchen table (I'm sure that's not what Mr. Diva had in mind when he asked me to take them off of the fridge)...

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