Oh, there are those of you out there that don't think I'm beautiful. Doesn't matter. You see I am a rescue oil painting, once snatched from the trash bin and given new life. I've lived in four houses and an apartment and now rest comfortably in a garage. If you get real close to me you might catch a whiff of gun cleaning solution from my second home where my destiny became clear. My owner wasn't going to put up with the gaps in her life forever and her moment came unexpectedly from a truly untypical gap filler. He's told his story ad nauseum. But here's what I can add to the tale - it's not fair to judge a man by the big and small things he does, but if that man is oblivious to the real needs of his life partner, well then he might be the kind of person to throw away something as gorgeous as me and that's a metaphor for the discarded life of the unromantics.

I'm content now and I'm not even being displayed. I'm in a place with two devoted lovers who know the true meaning of WADS and Gilmore Girls. I hear the laughter and delight from the kitchen area and know there's always something going on in the room upstairs that must be good judging from the sounds. It's a fitting resting place for me and listen up - I'm beautiful.

15 year since we danced all night on that night that we wed - we danced all the night 'cause her folks had the bed.