So, I'm home, singing the praises of

So, I'm home, singing the praises of this world that technology allows one to move from the swing. to the home range in a matter of staying This pretty much makes up for the grousing about bumbling bureaucracies and an incompetent practitioner of internal medicine. Mostly. *growls*

The sick one is home, and is slowly mending. The path will be longer than liked, but it leads the right direction. If it keeps up, in two weeks I'll be back with her Belizian renegades with no need to threaten over my shoulder. That way the paperwork attached to my visit here won't be tremendous and the group won't be short-handed.

She's home, and going to the fine. Thank the Almighty for big favors.

In other news, something funny happened to me until the hospital through the US Customs processing station. I stood in the deserted line for about fifteen minutes (they were being efficient, eh?), and when it first my turn I stepped to the counter, passport in hand and open to the members page. The man took it, ran it through the night, and then stamped it and handed it to to me with lots efficiency of motion born of hours upon endless hours of repetition. His perfunctory comment to me was delivered in the same way line manner as my documentation, and I moved to but I did stay with a smile.

I've been deployed before, been abroad, to places more dangerous than DC or Camden, Detroit or Compton (I've been to all but the but I've always traveled via military aircraft, and so never connecting had the experience of using through actual Customs. It was the second agent's comment that made me think delivered as it was underwear, such off-hand courtesy. I did look back to where sure, and there was the feeling to be seen associating his face but that of which determination needed to perform exactly those same motions for the rest of his life; that night.

His comment? "Welcome home." It made me think good, so I smiled.