For two and a half years we haven't had address numbers on our house. The numbers that were on the house when we moved in were on a tiny piece of metal attached to the street-side lightpost. Hated it...took it down.
It never bothered me that we didn't have numbers on the house, but it made my mom crazy...and it made it hard for the pizza delivery guys to find us. :)
So...a few weeks ago I was driving down a street in Bisbee - a quaint old mining town in Southern Arizona - when I saw an old, weathered piece of wood (actually half of a door) sitting by the side of the road. Long story short: the door wound up at my house and I was trying to figure out how to use it. My husband, of course, was aghast that I had picked up this piece of junk. I ignored him. Then it hit me: