It's no secret that our house in Provo won "Best Christmas Lights in the Neighborhood" in 2000. And the contest wasn't just some lady in the neighborhood that wanted to show us some love; it was official, and included a certificate from the city of Provo.
Of course, Gabby conceived the lighting scheme, and it was pretty simple, just some slightly over-sized white bulbs. We won it not because we over did it, like all the rest of the "competition" but because we stuck with a simple, elegant design, and Salem and I staple-gunned lights according to what Gabby told us.
Gabby wasn't there when the certificate was delivered. The mid-forties Provo City representative brought the certificate when my good friend Taylor Clark was over. (I think he was letting me borrow a jig saw.) When I opened the door, she started reading the certificate and looking at me (and Taylor--though at the time it didn't strike me as out of the ordinary) to verify we were the right people: "Benjamin and G-(look up again for awkward verfication)-Gabriel Blair?" (I'm used to people mis-pronouncing Gabrielle's name all the time, so I wasn't phased).
"Here is your certificate. You won the best Christmas lights in the neighborhood, congratulations."
"Thank you, thank you very much."
I thought nothing of it, but Taylor laughed and pointed out that the lady thought he was Gabriel. And the lights did look really nice.