Tonight my husband walked in with a bag from a framing store under his arm... apparently some .01 frame sale action was too good to pass up and he is going to hang some photos in his office... photos from a fishing trip that was taken, I believe, in 1987.
They will hang next to other photos of other fishing trips, other boats and quite possibly other people's boats and aquatic excursions.
Do you have a photo of me in your office? I ask... trying to sound casual.
Yes. The Christmas card with us and the boys in the backyard sandbox.
Pause. Pause. PAUSE.
The Christmas Card from 1999?
Yeah, that's the one.
Clearly this is a situation begging to be rectified.
He then says, Well, what other photo is there? I would love to have a more recent picture of you!
As though I haven't smiled for the camera once in 10 years?
Gee, let me think... Oh, I know, let me whip open our iPhoto account and you can scroll the endless and often quite ridiculous self portraits I have attempted in the name of a Facebook profile.
My options now are to either print something out for him and hope that he scotch tapes me to the wall, or... and this sounds more appealing... haul myself out to the Mall of Doom for a session with Glamor Shots.
Rhinestone Cowgirl, anyone?
Yee - Haw!