It's two minutes to midnight.
What the heck am I doing here?
My eyes are so heavy it feels as if they are filled with sand.
The moon was so bright tonight it lit the tin roof of our barn up like the ocean.
I have been feeling guilty for not telling any of you that Ian's petition has been approved on Halloween Day. Spooky. Ian and I had both given up on going back to the website to check the status after resigning ourselves to the five-month processing time that nearly flashed on the screen.
So, one month and two days after they received the petition for my alien spouse, they approved it. I have to wonder if my little call to the Senator's office may have sped things along, or brought Ian's file to the top of the pile. However it came about.....Hurr-f-ing-ay!
For some reason I'm not exactly jumping up and down, though. I still feel kind of beaten down. I guess because I know that while this means things are moving along, it is doubtful that they will move along on any sort of rapid, holiday schedule. This is the Department of Homeland Security, not Amazon.com.
The approval notice said they have sent the petition to the Dept of State National Visa Center , which can take a minimum of 30 days of processing before contacting them to find out what next....
In the meantime, they "reserve the right to verify the information submitted, in this application, petition and or supporting documentation to ensure comformity with applicable laws, rules, regulations and other authorities. Methods for verifying information may include, but are not limited to, the review of public information and records, contact by correspondence, the internet, or telephone, and site inspections of businesses and residences."
What are they looking for? "Derogatory information."
Poor Ian. Between that rigamarole and the required criminal background checks from any country he has resided in for longer than 6 months since he was 18, and the surgeon general physical, out of his own pocket, and the interview and all the accompanying fees, I'm afraid my poor husband is getting depressed. I don't blame him. They are treating him like a rabid dog for not following rules he didn't know existed.
I suggested to him he might have better married nice little British Barbara What's her face, the first girl he ever kissed back in grade school, and he wouldn't be in this mess. He agreed.
Too late now.
We're still going to England for Christmas and, perhaps by some miracle, might even bring him home with us. One can hope.
I'm tired of this and I'm going to bed.
Recent Momformation post over here.