Fortunately, though Buffalo is lacking in warm-and-fuzzy communication skills--to such an extent that they give an excellent impression of a consulate staffed by uncommonly terse robots--they are speedy about returning passports, and mine was only out of my possession for five days. MG and RW picked it up by return FedEx on Friday, and last night, following another midnight run down to the border, I officially became a Permanent Resident of Canada.
I was hoping the border officer would give me a little Canadian flag, as happened with the person ahead of me in line two weeks ago when I went for my work permit, but no such luck. However, as MG has three or four of them in her possession, I guess I don't really need one of my own.
We went home, rolled MG into bed, and celebrated by watching an episode of some most excellent Canadian television on DVD.