A trip to the PO box this morning offered up one piece of junk mail (no thanks Verizon, I don't want a Crackberry), a thank-you note from my niece Easton and—after 8 weeks of anticipation—my updated US passport. 
It's a lovely thing, peppered with all sorts of regal American symbolism and poignant quotes from cover to cover. But Foo is a bit distressed at its newness. The poor thing is just begging to be broken in, even if it's a quick jaunt to Canada just to hear the words, "Passport, please" quickly followed by the ga-dunk of the self-inking date stamper.
No comments:
Post a Comment