Passport to Hades maybe

I have just spent the better part of my day in the Passport office. Amanda leaves for the orchestra trip to Vienna soon, and I have been to the Passport office several times attempting to procure this most valuable of travel documents. Because Amanda will be 15 when she travels, she needs a “child” passport. Child passports are hard to get. (I don’t know why this is, though I suspect that I have some guy who lost custody of his kids and boosted them off to Spain to thank). Today was my third attempt to get Amanda a passport. Here are some things that I have learned about the Passport office.

-They are serious about the NO FOOD OR DRINK rule. This rule, as crazy as it sounds…actually includes coffee, which I normally count as neither.

-The man who tells you that coffee is a drink (that still cracks me up) is not a security guard. He is RCMP. He may have a gun. I felt that it would be poor form to ask him. (Sort of makes me look like I might have a plan…ya know?)

-He does not knit.

-Despite having a high level of education and a reasonable grasp of the English Language the passport form instructions are still so complex that I got something wrong three times. I shudder to think how you would fare if you were not as educated, or if English were not your first language.

-The passport office regrets this, but feels that there is nothing they can do.

-They are not interested in my offer to re-write the instructions. This may have been because I called the instructions “incomparably unclear” and “deliberately misleading” and called into question their desire to issue passports at the passport office. I also may have asked them if the application was designed as some sort of “pre-screening” process to make sure that only people with 36 hours of free time to line up (without coffee) as well as being in the top 2% for intelligence are allowed to travel outside of the country.

-Today, Rex Murphy was in line three people in front of me. Even though he was Rex Murphy, he still had to wait hours like the rest of us. He was not allowed to have coffee either. (Both of these things pleased me, though I extend sympathy to Mr. Murphy for his suffering).

-Because we are Canadians, not one single person acknowledged that he was Rex Murphy. Not, “Hello Mr. Murphy”, not “Gosh Mr. Murphy, I sure do like your work”. Not one single….”Holy, crap! Are you Rex Murphy?” (Not that you could mistake him for someone else) Nothing. I personally made eye contact with him for a moment but even that felt quite brazen.

-Not one word was spoken of the fact that Rex Murphy walked among us like a mere mortal, until he left. Then practically everyone in there turned to the person next to them and said “Wow. Ya see that? Rex Murphy”.

-Finally, the third time is apparently the charm and Amanda’s application has been accepted. They have no complaints box. (I checked).

Yesterday I was all sorted to skip Tuesdays are for spinning when what should arrive in my mailbox?


It’s from Cora, and she enclosed a little note saying that she “didn’t know what to do with it”. She’s not a spinner and thinks this mohair would make poor thrums. (She’s right) I however, know exactly what to do with it.


Look to the postman Cora…it’s coming right back atcha…and a thousand thanks for the whole “not grey” thing. You don’t know how lovely a time I had.

Clapotis is coming along.


Anybody catch that?

More prizes tomorrow.