Don't you also run into the complexities of dual citizenship with folks born overseas but of American parents (or vice-versa?) I've never quite understood that.

It's not complex, as far as I know. If you are born to one American citizen, you're a citizen. There may or may not be paperwork involved, but you are. Same if you're born in the US to citizens of any country.

I have a friend who was born in the US to Canadians with British parents. She can pretty much work anywhere she wants, with her triple threat.

Nor to children born outside Canada to Canadian mothers. Fathers, yes. Mothers, no. That policy has since be de-troll-logicked.

Jamaica was like that until too recently. I'm surprised about Canada, but I probably shouldn't be, since they're oddly stuffy about some of that immigration and citizenship stuff--a Canadian visa is expensive, and doesn't last very long. Irritating. Theoretically, I mean. Since I no longer need one. But still I get the full exam when I cross the border since I used to be a permanent resident. Tiring and time-consuming.

Chenille's just Frenchified velour. Nothing's sloungier than velour.

Tea with milk is just differently healthy.

This post brought to you by The Committee to Bolt all Doors of Recently Vacated Barns.

Velour picks up lint like whoa. And cat hair.

Chenille's just Frenchified velour.

Actually, no. Chenille is a thread. Velour is a fabric.

Nothing's sloungier than velour.

Not leather or silk? I think I've been using the wrong definition of slounge.

Okay, I spoke too soon. My back is now aching from yesterday's slip'n'slide adventures.

I've only gone to Canada on business and it took quite a while to get through customs.

I'm a dual citizen because I was born 1) in the US, to an American father and 2) to a French citizen who had never renounced her citizenship or become an American. At the time I claimed French citzenship, I also had to prove that my grandfather had been French by birth, but I don't think that's true anymore. Had I been male, I also would have had to complete military service, hence the reason that my brother is not a French citizen but my sister and I are.

I should clarify that having a Canadian mother still meant you were eligible for citizenship. But we had to file some sort of papers demonstrating active ties to the country, etc., for my brother and I, and swear an oath and such, whereas for my sister, born in the 80s, it was automatic.

So in furtherance of good employee relations, I stayed home today so as not to contaminate my coworkers with all my hacking and coughing and sneezing. This is Day 12 of the Cold From Hell.

And I can't log into office webmail, bah. I haven't tried the VPN, but I bet that won't work either. This is why I never work from home--I can't actually work.

Off to call someone and have them email me documents to work on the old-fashioned way.

At least I get to be on the futon cuddled in a fleece blanket and wearing my new flannel pjs. Yay.

Velour picks up lint like whoa.

I have trouble taking velour seriously. Someone will say to me something like, "Why don't you try on that blue velour top?" and I think, "I'd look like a science officer." I won't even start about how nervous wearing a red velour top would make me.