A few days ago, when I was trying to hang some pictures and not finding any nails of the correct length, I came across a little package of teeny, tiny 1/2 inch nails. I wondered why on earth Dad had bought such tiny nails.
This morning, I'm going through the multitudinous picture frames Dad owned (he liked to frame photos before taking them to show people), so that I can donate the wooden frames to the crafts room of the Veteran's Unit where Dad spent his last two years. I'm finding that on some of the frames that have held pictures since the 1970s, the tiny nails are rusting. Aha! Those nails that Dad bought are for picture frames!
So I'm replacing all the rusty nails with nice shiny new ones. Thanks, Dad!
P.S. If you're looking for me anytime, I'm blogging much more frequently, although mostly on writing and reading, at elizabethannewrites. Please join me there!
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