Sunday night's super moon on St. Margaret's Bay, Nova Scotia--taken from our deck.
In one of the most impulsive decisions of all time, we moved to Nova Scotia. We drove cross country in a Fiat 500, which is the size of a big roller skate. When we reached the border crossing, we said too much. We scared the border guards with our ebullience.
How long are you staying was her question.
We want to stay forever, we said.
She looked us over carefully. Two grinning, aged adults.
You can only stay six months.
Frowny faces. No, no.
Do you have health insurance? Do you have proof of income?
Not on us.
You'll need proof.
Customs officer to Tom: Sir, have you ever lost your passport?
Tom: I don't know. Maybe.
Customs officer: this passport has been reported missing. I'll have to take it away from you.
Come back tomorrow with proof of insurance and income.
Have a nice day.
The next day we came armed with paper work--thank you Joanne Worley and Utah First Credit Union, and despite Tom's missing passport, we were allowed in.
We should have said we were on vacation and they would have whisked us through.
But . . . you're in your digs now, right? Gorgeous photo. Happy to know you've arrived. xox
ReplyDeleteTotall jealous of, like, all of that!
ReplyDeleteWelcome to Canada!
ReplyDeleteYou did it (the rest of us just talk about it). Trump was elected so you moved to Canada. I look forward to posts about your life on St. Margaret's Bay.
ReplyDeleteI am excited for you two. I hope the coming posts share a bit of "why-info". Congratulations. You two are role models of "Life". Did Tom pack his paints?
ReplyDeleteOh yes, I packed my paints.
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DeleteI have been reading your blog for years - am so pleased you've joined us in Canada! I think you have likely chosen the best place of all too. All good things to you in this new adventure.
ReplyDeleteHow absolutely wonderful!!
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