Ever wonder what to do with old love letters?

I'm not talking about the "like" notes that got shoved in your locker by a hallway boyfriend who only recently stopped playing with Power Rangers and may still have had a lingering cootie or two clinging to him. (I've never had to wonder too long about what to do with those, as they were generally disposed of quite quickly via methods that involved either extra sharp scissors, the toilet, or lots of ketchup and a garbage bag.)

No, I'm talking about the letters that my ever-romantic husband (then boyfriend, then fiance) wrote to me during our separated-by-college years. I happened upon them in the bottom of a box a few weeks ago (where else do love letters go to be forgotten?) and decided I wanted to do something with them.

The gaps above our windows created by our extra high curtains seemed to be the right spot for some sweet nothings, so I bought five 4"x6" frames at the Dollar Tree, spray painted them white (I'll spare you the scintillating pictures of those steps), then layered in Rick's letters and a number that is special to us.

62,808 is obviously the number of hints I had to drop before Mr. Shy Boy finally asked me to his prom. Er--I mean, it's obviously our wedding day: June 28, 2008.

Here's a voyeuristic close-up:

This is the only time you'll get this intimate with Rick's sentimental writing unless you come and stand on our couch. Or use super binoculars to peer through a nearby window. But that would be kind of creepy, wouldn't it?

Besides, you might not like what you see. Buahaha.

In all seriousness, Rick was my high school sweetheart, my college sweetheart, and now my forever sweetheart. Hanging his letters that, to some, might just seem old-fashioned and corny, is just one small way to honor the fact that he has always been a perfect gentleman to me, and I love him for that.

Speaking of Rick, he's down in the basement right now, as we speak, getting sawdust all over himself (if he'd let me take a picture I'd show you--he has these really cute cotton ball earplugs in and everything) so we can have a new custom desk made almost entirely out of wood we found around the house. See what I mean? Handy, thrifty, and a gentleman. He's perfect for me. :)