Homeland Security, Tamales, & Candied Yams

It's strange, I (T) really like to have my fingerprint taken.  I (T) know, many of you laugh, "figures, we always knew that is how you would end up."  Well, I (T) have ended up this way, just not THAT way.

Again, I (T) like having my fingerprints taken, just not electronically.  I (T) like the ink.  I (T) like the feeling of rolling my fingers against paper.  I (T) like the way the cleaner feels when you scrub the ink off. 

We waited so long for them to fingerprint us this time.  I (T) was happy, I (T) was relieved, I (T) was glad it finally happened, I (T) was disappointed no ink was involved. 

The office we went to was strange.  It was in a non-desrcript office park, on the bottom level, with a ton of hideously pruned boxwoods everywhere.  I (T) was a touch aggravated, we arrived early, parked right in front of the door, somehow positioned strangely below ground level, and waited.

-Why can't they open the door?(T)

-It's not 8:00.(J)

-Well, it's close enough, look, they're just standing there. (T)

-It's not 8:00, they'll open at 8:00. (J)

-That's ridiculous, they're right there. (T)

-Baby, they open at 8:00.(J)

Anyway, you all get the idea.  Once inside, it was pleasant enough.  We filled out the form, took a number, sat down (in hideous little plastic chairs) below pictures of George Bush and Michael Chertoff, and waited.  We did not wait too long.  They were very efficient and we were early. 

SIDEBAR: Where in the world do those ubiquitous, plastic, federal government plastic chairs come from?  Is there a chair manufacturer in Hell?

I (T) was a touch freaked out by the Bush/Chertoff photographic montage.  Maybe we could have something a touch more welcoming in our immigration offices.  I (T) don't know, maybe a picture of a plate of tamales, maybe a picture of my great-grandmother's candied yams.  I (T)want people to feel welcome when they come to our country. I (T) know I (T) feel at home when tamales and candied yams are on the table.

Later y'all.