Here. Here, and there, we were. Here we are.

So much for leaving by noon to start the trip: just before 5pm, after a frantic and exhausting final cleaning and sorting of what would stay next to the Dumpster and what would be packed in and around the cats in the back of the Forester, we bade farewell to our old home, grabbed some McDonald's for needed comfort food, and set off down Interstate 94.  Six or seven hours later, we were checked into the Motel 6 just west of Chicago; one fitful night's sleep and just under eight hours later, we were at the border, the "WELCOME TO CANADA" beckoning in red above the entry lanes where each driver stated their purpose and moved on.  Within half an hour, we'd completed a painless interview that resulted in Jen getting work authorization on the spot; four hours after that on the 401, then the QEW, then the Gardiner Expressway, the CN Tower appeared, illuminated in seemingly iridescent fades of red and white.

We were home.

Two days of new-to-Canada orientation later, and through many of my own efforts, I had a $99 monthly student transit pass (which will save a great deal of money over parking, which gives little tiem savings with unpredictable traffic congestion), and had settled on Scotiabank for our new banking account (which we couldn't rustle together in time for this weekend, so we'll have to wait until this coming Thursday when I have a break in my orientation week, which starts with back-to-back 12-hour days of meetings, mixers, and food).  Also, with the work permit Jen scored, she was able to get to a Service Canada office and have a new Social Insuance Number (the Canadian equivalent of the U.S. Social Security Number), which allows her to apply for work.  Next up is for her to obtain a new phone from Telus, which I'll do after figuring out my financial situation.

That latter item, to be blunt, continues to be a major stressor.  It has not dampened our excitement and zest for being here, but has led to daily freak-outs and needed calm-downs.  Jen understandably can't plan until we know how much we have to live on; I've bottled that stressor for so long now that I fly off the handle and have to pull it back together and apologize for being fiery and unreasonable.  Even though we both know that the determination is only for an eight-month period (with the expectation that I will interview for and secure a paid internship next summer, which usually offers pay of $1000-$1200 per week), and that her chances of finding employment here are better than in the U.S. with its battered economy, the simple inability to have any control over my financial-aid determination inspires temporary paralysis and complete destruction of perspective that's reminiscent of road construction on a road trip: no way out, just have to slow down, ride out the momentary change and delay, and then get on with things once the orange cones no longer appear.

We know that we've already accomplished a lot simply by getting here; just because people at the new-to-Canada session at school seemed more concerned about how the wire-transfer of funds works to get money from their accounts to the school doesn't mean that I'm the only one with financial worries.  I was the only American in attendance the first day out of probably 90 people - I took solace in already making a couple of new acquainances from Thailand and Venezuela respectively, as well as fielding questions from people from India, Mexico, and China about the United States, sharing our perspectives about where we come from.

I know that the school wants me there and will do what it can (as another department has already stepped up with both an emergency bursary and processing a $1000.00 advance against the financial aid that will be paid back once the financial aid is worked out), but the wait just hangs like a cloud over everything.  It's like my old mortgage work, where people may not have known for an agonizing amount of time whether or not they'd get the home they had signed a contract to purchase, and a few of them did indeed come down to the wire, with less-than-three point landings occurring before the loan could close and the buyers could get their keys.

My mind and self are ready and open for the new roads in this hugely vibrant city; my life experience and skills have prepared me to employ Ockham's Razor to cut the Gordian knots between me and my goals, of which there will be many.

My to-do list may never again be empty, but it's a grateful acceptance that life is a full thing, and I don't expect that I'll ever have to worry about my list being vacant - because along with the have-to-do, there's the want-to-do.

I feel as alive as I've ever felt, and things are really only just beginning here.  Let the madness begin!