Finally getting my shit together.

I'm finally filling out information for my passport. My father sent me my birth certificate through the USPS, certified, and they didn't realize they hadn't sent me a notice that it was received. Finally, I tracked it down, went there, and got it.

So, now that I've filled out the forms, I'm feeling pretty good. I don't expect to get this before my trip to Toronto next weekend, but I might give it a shot.

The process triggered a memory I hadn't shared with you from my trip back:
As I entered Logan on Monday afternoon, I walked up to the counter, license in hand, and a smile on my face. The agent asked me where I was going, then said "I notice you don't have a lot of bags for a trip to Chicago." I was taken aback- was he accusing me of something? Had I done something wrong? Should I worry?

I silenced the voices in my head and answered. "Well, I just flew in for the game last night." That seemed to work. Now, we're old buddies talking baseball.

I think that what caused my concern was that he was looking at my license which is from, of all places, Illinois, and states my address as being in Chicago. But it apparently never crossed his mind that I was from here and was headed home. I don't think I look like a terrorist, either. Oh well. Silly.