After my first session of RCIA (how to be a Catholic) class, my sponsor let drop that Clariton is over the counter in Canada. This was incredibly valuable information as 1) it's allergy season and 2) my doctor won't prescribe it to me. I have no idea why she wouldn't prescribe it to me (I think she's getting kickbacks from Rhinocourt) but, now that I have found a way to go behind her back, it hardly matters. So I planned an international drug running extravaganza on Saturday.

I haven't been to Windsor in years. I have a feeling that you can't just tell the customs people that you've come to buy allergy medicine, so Gibson and I thought we'd make an evening of it. Sarah is coming along due to her Rolling Stones-induced singlehood. I've heard that they have good Asian restaurants in Windsor (something Detroit is lacking) so I was pretty excited about our Canadian dining opportunities. At least until I tried to make reservations.

It seems that Windsor restaurants take a month or two (no exaggeration) off around Canadian Thanksgiving. This just wouldn't fly in America. Well, maybe that's not true. The Lark is always closed after Christmas, which really gets my dander up because they're closed on my birthday. Anyway, the whole thing got me thinking about how Canadians are really the only people you can shamelessly make fun of any more. We have a Canadian employee here, and he gets a constant heavy stream of grief about being Canadian.