I have many things to share, but not all at once. I was going to tell you a Tank Boy story today, but since my stats tell me that folks from my agency Yahoo! group are stalking my blog, we’ll do a little adoption update instead.
Today we packed the kids in the truck and drove the hour to be re-fingerprinted. Yaaaaaaaaaay! Did you know our dossier has been in Vietnam for over a year now? Super Yaaaaaaaaaay! (You all can recognize internet sarcasm, right?) (And yes, I am still refusing to capitalize internet).
So, here’s a little tip I picked up today that may benefit those of you who have yet to be fingerprinted or will need to be re-fingerprinted: you can not take scissors into a federal building. Leave them at home.
Right. Well, it’s not like I always carry scissors around in my tote bag (though I used to frequently carry X-Acto knives to school in my purse, but that is a different story), but I threw some in my bag yesterday on the way out the door to church because I had a little project that needed finishing before sacrament meeting (the main service) ended. So, yes, I sat there in church cutting paper. It wasn’t the first time, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. What an example I am to my children.
Anyway, I forgot to take the scissors out of my bag. As it (the bag) was coming out the other end of the little x-ray machine conveyor belt, the security guard (who looks like he might actually be able to do his job, as opposed to the security folks at McH’s company, but, again, another story) asks me, “Ma’am, do you have scissors in your purse?”
Now really, if I were going to take down a federal building with scissors, would I have left them to travel through an x-ray machine in a faux croc, faux leather tote bag? I think not. I’m sure there are higher end bags that could somehow conceal scissors much better than my bag.
But yes, yes I did have scissors in my bag. He asked to see them. After seeing them he told me I’d have to take them back to the truck. I don’t know why he had to see them to tell me that, but at least he was nice about it and didn’t slam my face into the conveyor to cuff me or anything. I asked him if I could leave the scissors with him since we were just getting fingerprinted and it would probably go faster than actually walking all the way back to the parking garage.
No. He could not keep them for me. I suppose there is always the danger that a security guard might, out of sheer boredom, be too tempted by the presence of scissors and decide to overthrow the federal building himself. My options were to walk all the way back to the parking garage or walk across the street and throw them away.
Farewell blue-handled scissors. You served me well.
I really should have wiped them down first because, with my luck, some strung-out druggie will forage through that trash can looking for lunch and find my scissors. Then, in a drug-induced psychotic episode, he will storm the federal building with them. When the carnage has ended, the CSI Cityville folks will dust the scissors and find my fingerprints, thereby making our whole trip down there pretty pointless. You know, they don’t let criminals, convicted or alleged, adopt babies.
All right, so here is what you really want: The Update: (I’m sure using that many colons is incorrect, but anyway, here we go):
Our paperwork has made all of the rounds and is now at its last stop in the IAD. All that is left is for those good folks to write and send the letter officially informing our agency of the approved referral. As soon as our agency has that letter in hand, our coordinator will call us with the referral information and email us photos and medical documents. That could happen this week.
Anyone holding his/her breath?
Didn’t think so.
Me neither, because, though I am apparently pretty hot with purple hair, I don’t think a purple face would be quite the same.
And George, if you’re out there, Tewt the Newt says hello.