Immigration interview in the women's washroom

Not really. So. Here's the story:
Once upon a time, as in Tuesday, Sam and I went to our highly anticipated immigration interview. For those living under a rock, I am a (proud) Canuck and Sam and I have been working toward getting me a green card so I can live and work here legally. (A musher friend who works for the FBI was the one millionth person to tell me I'm crazy to go from Canada to here, congrats Bruce, but anyway...) In said interview they ask personal questions about your relationship to make sure that it's legitimate. We were warned that it could take two hours and that they could ask anything. We were even told by our immigration lawyer that the INS officer could spontaneously phone friends and family during said interview for verification. Even though Sam and I had nothing to worry about, I was still freaking out a little. We made sure we knew each other's family history, favourites, pet peeves...you name it. I was scrambling the day before to get photos together of Sam and I looking all happy and in love. "I said SMILE, dammit!" (Sidebar: The only picture that was in focus of our one-and-only river trip this summer was of Sam in the back of the canoe pretending to hit me with the paddle, but we still took with us to show that 'see we like to joke around, too.' At least I hope he was joking.)
So we get to the courthouse about 30 minutes before our interview. We were a little too early so we sat in the truck for a while festering about what was to come. After about 10 minutes we leisurely made our way up to the third floor and starting looking for room 314. We found in a minute or so. It was the women's bathroom. WRONG COURTHOUSE!!!
Holy crap. Run, run, run down the stairs, out the door, to the truck. Drive like mad to get the 12 blocks (luckily it was only 12 blocks away) to the FEDERAL courthouse. Go through security. Wait for Sam to take everything but the kitchen sink out of his freakin' pockets to go through the metal detector...he really does jam those pockets FULL. Up to the third floor where the woman was waiting in the hall for us. We still had about a minute to spare and she was very nice. Then the interview began.
Her: "How did you meet?"
Me: "Uh, we met in 2001. I was a journalist in Whitehorse and Sam works for the paper here and we were covering the same assignment."
Then she asked me a whole flurry of good ones like: "Are you a terrorist, communist, nazi, felon?..etc etc
After about five minutes...it was over!
FIVE MINUTES. All that worry for five minutes. We showed her a few pictures from the wedding, the family visit, building the cabin and that was it. I should have my green card in a few weeks. Crazy.
I've been running dogs every other day and the young ones have really caught on quickly. There are no more tangles, no more fights, no more chewed harnesses or lines. Life is good. Today it was snowing like crazy which had the dogs very excited. When I got back to town (about 10 miles away) it was sunny and dry; no snow, no rain. The sled dog vortex had me again.

Bull and Sister are my two best leaders and I'm looking forward to increasing the distance next week to see what they can do.
Still finishing up details on the cabin. (We're still cooking on a camp stove and have no phone.) But all is well in Fairbanks.
Peace.