First off, a big thank you to everyone who took part in the sale/car-seat marathon. We ended up needing to get two car seats, as it turns out Canada has waaaaaaaaaaaaaay stringent rules about such things and our second car seat was about a month out of date. Yes, car seats have use by dates. Who knew? So the sale raised enough for one (phew) and so we could get them both and still breathe in a calm, un-panicky manner. Huzzah!
I'm waiting for His Nibs to get the camera pics off the camera and into useable format - the problem with getting a new camera (thanks Grandma!) is that my darling man wants to take pictures. OF EVERYTHING. Multiple times. Which means we have an ungodly amount of images of ducks, to my taste; each one of them using a slightly different setting than the last and All of them needing going through. I just want the pics of the holiday and my knitting, and I'm good. Well, maybe I'll share one of the ducks. The ducks were pretty cute.
However we have No Photos At All of our trip across the border into Americky, for two reasons - one being, we had no intention of going to Americky whatsoever, and were sadly let astray by our Tom Tom device - a device so dedicated to getting us along the shortest route between two geographical points that it gleefully ignores such matters as, oh, I don't know, INTERNATIONAL BORDERS. This, I cannot help but think, is a flaw in the device. Add to that the quirky sign that for all intents and purposes looked like a man in a peaked cap working on a laptop. I even was in the middle of wondering aloud whether the sign meant 'you must wear a peaked cap while using a laptop' when it dawned upon us that it probably meant 'Customs Official'. Given away by the teeny tiny plaque on the house we were outside with its line down the middle and 'USA' on one side, 'CANADA' on the other. And when I say tiny, I've fed my cat off larger plates than this sign. Pro-tip, border guards - BIG sign, maybe with flashing doohickeys, saying 'ONLY COME THIS WAY IF YOU WANT TO LEAVE THIS COUNTRY RIGHT ABOUT NOW'' would be more helpful.
The other reason we have no photos of this is because while you are trying to explain to a border guard with absolutely no sense of humour why you are apparently trying to enter his country with only a medicare card and a driving licence, taking lots of photos of him, his gun and his military back-up is probably frowned upon. Instead we sat in the car park, terrified to even set one foot on US soil, while they worked out how to send us back to Canada in the most official manner possible. It took two hours - time I used to cast on two-at-a-time toddler socks, in little leaf lace. I figured that no-one could possibly mistake someone swearing at her needles and concentrating madly on a lace chart for an international baddun.
We finally got officially refused permission to enter the US of A, and waving our piece of paper that effectively made us Canada's problem again, we drove back down the hill into our beloved Canada's metaphorical embrace. The border guard here declared me officially canadian for trying to use a RAMQ card as a passport, and said 'Oh, welcome home' in such warm tones that I had to be stopped from getting out and giving him a hug. We then drove the 2km to our friends' cottage very carefully, right along the border for the most part (Rue Canusa - one side Canadian, one side American - do not overtake slow vehicles for the love of all that's holy). Where we promptly slid into the lake and did our level best not to come out of it for two whole days. If you disregard the border violation, it was a wonderfully relaxing weekend. Chantal and Ron, we adore you.
Two at a time socks though, people! Two at a time! It's amazing what fear can do for your powers of concentration :)
I'm waiting for His Nibs to get the camera pics off the camera and into useable format - the problem with getting a new camera (thanks Grandma!) is that my darling man wants to take pictures. OF EVERYTHING. Multiple times. Which means we have an ungodly amount of images of ducks, to my taste; each one of them using a slightly different setting than the last and All of them needing going through. I just want the pics of the holiday and my knitting, and I'm good. Well, maybe I'll share one of the ducks. The ducks were pretty cute.
However we have No Photos At All of our trip across the border into Americky, for two reasons - one being, we had no intention of going to Americky whatsoever, and were sadly let astray by our Tom Tom device - a device so dedicated to getting us along the shortest route between two geographical points that it gleefully ignores such matters as, oh, I don't know, INTERNATIONAL BORDERS. This, I cannot help but think, is a flaw in the device. Add to that the quirky sign that for all intents and purposes looked like a man in a peaked cap working on a laptop. I even was in the middle of wondering aloud whether the sign meant 'you must wear a peaked cap while using a laptop' when it dawned upon us that it probably meant 'Customs Official'. Given away by the teeny tiny plaque on the house we were outside with its line down the middle and 'USA' on one side, 'CANADA' on the other. And when I say tiny, I've fed my cat off larger plates than this sign. Pro-tip, border guards - BIG sign, maybe with flashing doohickeys, saying 'ONLY COME THIS WAY IF YOU WANT TO LEAVE THIS COUNTRY RIGHT ABOUT NOW'' would be more helpful.
The other reason we have no photos of this is because while you are trying to explain to a border guard with absolutely no sense of humour why you are apparently trying to enter his country with only a medicare card and a driving licence, taking lots of photos of him, his gun and his military back-up is probably frowned upon. Instead we sat in the car park, terrified to even set one foot on US soil, while they worked out how to send us back to Canada in the most official manner possible. It took two hours - time I used to cast on two-at-a-time toddler socks, in little leaf lace. I figured that no-one could possibly mistake someone swearing at her needles and concentrating madly on a lace chart for an international baddun.
We finally got officially refused permission to enter the US of A, and waving our piece of paper that effectively made us Canada's problem again, we drove back down the hill into our beloved Canada's metaphorical embrace. The border guard here declared me officially canadian for trying to use a RAMQ card as a passport, and said 'Oh, welcome home' in such warm tones that I had to be stopped from getting out and giving him a hug. We then drove the 2km to our friends' cottage very carefully, right along the border for the most part (Rue Canusa - one side Canadian, one side American - do not overtake slow vehicles for the love of all that's holy). Where we promptly slid into the lake and did our level best not to come out of it for two whole days. If you disregard the border violation, it was a wonderfully relaxing weekend. Chantal and Ron, we adore you.
Two at a time socks though, people! Two at a time! It's amazing what fear can do for your powers of concentration :)


