Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Paddling your own canoe

There is an ongoing tradition in my family involving oars. None of us are sailors or boat owners, (we have a canoe, does that count?) but somehow we got caught up in this paddle-related tradition. Personally, I blame "those" members of the family from Cleveland. It's that lake water tainting their decision-making abilities, me thinks.

It goes something like this: on the eve of the day child is set to be married, their parents present them with a symbolic gift. Hint: it's an oar. The idea is that this is a symbol of both their pending nuptials and independence from the parentals. It's a gentle nudge, if you will.

More than anything, it's a reminder that it's time to paddle your own canoe. Oh, and here's the paddle for your canoe so that you can fight your way upstream! Smell ya later, buddy!

The day before my husband and I were set to marry, I was presented with said canoe accessory. My mother read a fabulous diddy about growing up and turned over the oar. I'm quite ashamed to admit that it has resided in our dark, dank basement ever since. For reference, said event occured in 2007.

Recently, perhaps when I was on my "I love all things beachy" kick, I unearthed it from the underground crap storage facility basement and located a new home for our oar.

BEHOLD, an oar filling the weird space between the bathroom and master bedroom!

Also, I closed the doors because I'm one of those people who hides all their dirty laundry (literally!) behind closed doors. Judge away, my dears, judge away!

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