Fully-gloved and ready for action, the Surgical Photo Team operates on the Wedding Album, with an assist from Sir Blakey. The Royal Rescue Pup (of Questionable Lineage) contributes strands of hair as a memento. The delicate procedure lasts many hours. Despite a serious case of the giggles, a testy demand for caffeine and the annoying repetition of the phrase, "Nurse! Pass me that scalpel!", the patient turns out perfectly, needing no recovery time.
The selection process proves deeply emotional, considering the abundance of fabulous pix, 150 or so, but who's counting. Constant pleas from a certain member of the team receive considerable disdain: "Oh dear God, don't use that one. My hair looks flat." "Hush, Mother, we're operating." "Malpractice!"
Highly-skilled hubby uses his trusty T-Square to guide the laser-like trimming of an 8 x 10 horizontal.
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