Fodder for the Therapist (Hers, Not Mine)

The mooing dog folks must have read my haiku. Yesterday we strolled on down to our town's Fourth o' July BBQ festivities and next thing we knew - family portrait.

It's hard to tell from the above but the Mamacita is proudly waiving her mooing dog fan. So proudly in fact that moments later an official looking photog-type bearing a non-instant camera of great proportion swooped in to snap a photo of her alone. I'm pretty sure she's their new mascot. Moo.

On the other hand, just one day earlier found this very same Mamacita in a not so much with the pride state of mind. Clearly she does not connect the receipt of her very first passport with her newfound jet set status. After many attem
pts (including one we were sure would work except that, oops, the camera was out of film) by our cameraman/postal worker we hit pay dirt.

Theron's official passport picture is a passable if somewhat uptight likeness. However, the shot we liked best, for its artistic quality of course, was this one now prominently displayed on our refrigerator.

I think a couple of international shopping adventures will rectify this case of obvious torture.