immigration process, part deux: “my advice to you is to start drinking heavily.”

Last Saturday we got a nondescript envelope in the mail from the USCIS (which, for all of you playing at home is the United States Citizenship and Immigration Service).  If I had not known that tidy acronym, it probably would have ended up in the garbage with the numerous, also nondescript envelope-using, credit card solicitations and the free pore strip sample that arrived in the mail yesterday.

I would be pissed that the mail is judging the size of my pores, but if you have never used those things, they are MESMERIZING.

And since I grew up in a household where my father liked to open my mail, I patiently waited until A opened this all important USCIS letter in sheep’s clothing.

C: “Hey honey, why don’t you open this?”  *sweetly saunters over the husband in front of television*

A: “Yeah, I will.”  *does not divert glance from “Prison Break”*

C: “Heeeeyyyyyy HUSBAND.  I am too cute to be beaten up by a police officer in Arizona, so could you PLEASE OPEN THIS LETTER?”

A: “One sec.  This guy is still glaring at that other guy.  And I think they are threatening to take them all to prison … or Panama.”


A: “Fine, wife.  It says here, we were accepted and they are dismissing the fine.”

C: *sprints through the house with Beef over her head, singing “God Bless America”*

But, oh, do I wish the story ended here.

I will save you the pain of asking my really calm husband about this infuriating green card amendment process, because it apparently goes like this:

1. Get green card.

2. Someone makes bonehead mistake.

3. Foot in butt.

4. No more green card.

5. Application for amendment is overnighted (cost = $20).

6. Three weeks later amendment is “accepted”, which only means it is in English and makes sense.

Not so exciting.

So this brings us to today, and our next steps.

1. Get amendment “approved” .

2. Get temporary ID card.

3. Wait a zillion years while hiding out from the Supreme Court.

4. Finally get green card back.  Sleep with it under your pillow every night.

So today was supposed to the be the day when our approval and temporary ID card was set into motion.  We set up our appointment, took today off of work and made some plans for our day in the big cit-ay!

But, when A called earlier this week to confirm the time and place of our appointment, the USCIS phone monkeys (a job that may not be outsourced in the near future) informed him that we had not performed the proper steps to insure our appointment was scheduled.

Here is an example of how complicated and informative the scheduling process was:

What the phone drone then told us, was when you make the first appointment, you have to attempt to make ANOTHER appointment.  If your appointment stuck, you will not be able to make another.  If you are invited to make another appointment, it is not because they want to see your adorable face more than once, but because your first appointment somehow did not register.


The USCIS rep followed up with admitting that the website was not very clear, and doesn’t really tell you that you have to double check your appointment validity to make sure your slot isn’t taken out from under you.


So, here we sit, waiting for our next appointment to be scheduled.  And armed with knowledge!

But if we get stopped and asked for our papers, we are screwed because they are IN ARIZONA.

Just wait until we tell you what it takes to get his passport renewed.  HAHAHAH *weeps*


One thought on “immigration process, part deux: “my advice to you is to start drinking heavily.”

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