Quick Thought.

Here is something I love: My father does construction, and on his sites, sometimes there is no paper to write upon. He also get calls all (and I mean ALL) the time. Numbers must be written down. Therefore, ever so often, my father will come home with a piece of torn card board with someones name and a phone number written on it. Occasionally, on days such as this, a large block of wood is used in the card boards stead.
The block is on the dining room table.
That is what I love.