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.

and swear an oath and such

What kind of oath?

"Hey Canada, baby, I swear I wouldn't do nuthin' to hurt you. And if you ever need some help, like if you get invaded, I'll be there for you. I swear."

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.

I think (if I recall from the paperwork I went over) that if you were the bastard child of a Canadian mother, you were hoopless. It was all very strange.

What counted as active ties? Not that I have any plans to put in a Request for Clarification of Canadian Citizenship* anytime soon, but it does lurk in the back of my mind.

*I think that's what they called it last time I looked into it. But as it requires me to send in my Canadian certificate of foreign birth and do a whole bunch of paperwork, there's no value added for me unless I'm planning on actually moving there.

Velour is just stretch velvet. Subject to abuse like any other fabric, it also makes up two or three of my favourite dresses.

I think (if I recall from the paperwork I went over) that if you were the bastard child of a Canadian mother, you were hoopless. It was all very strange.

Bastages! Or, apparently, not.