A Passport to Bad Hair

So, we went to the post office Wednesday to apply for passports for our trip to England this summer - assuming I amass the fortune required for three airplane tickets to London. This past March, my daughter and I bought tickets to see Much Ado About Nothing in the "glittering west end" of London in July. I'm not sure what overcame me. Well, I know the thought of seeing David Tennant in a play by Shakespeare overcame me, but I'm still puzzled by the fact that I have hope that I can do this. I think, all things considered, I will need half my yearly income to manage the trip and I still think I will have this in the next two months. I await the miracle. Anyway, we had our pictures taken by the post-mistress after we completed our applications. When it was my turn, she asked me if she could do something with my hair. My hair is not really an entity you can do something with but I said sure. She came over and pushed it around and had me lean over and shake it out and then she fluffed it up a bit and took the picture. She gave me a copy and, while you can't see the part in my hair, it is still completely flat on top. I do admire her willingness to go above and beyond in an effort to make me more presentable to customs. When Rex posed for his picture, her response to him was, "Really?" Sarah looks pretty good in her picture. Rex and I look like we probably should never go out in daylight. Hopefully, we won't be turned away at the gate.