At the end of the summer, we met up with my dearest, darling BFF Kate and her family in Galveston. We popped into a nautical antique shop on the Strand and each found a flag with our –last name initial? Is there a better way to describe that? We got a W; they got an R.
Trent has been working on the frame and hung it on the wall this afternoon. Trent and I have, to put it mildly, different risk tolerances, so the fact that Trent was sweating about being on a ladder on the stairs is notable. While I was “holding the ladder” for the final step of hanging the flag, Trent had a Shackleton moment where I could tell it was too heavy to be lifting above his head on a ladder, but there was really no other option but to get it onto the French cleat. It was a success and now it will be hanging there forever.
Yay! Looks great!
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