They're coming to take me away hee hee ha ha

As with anything involving the government, doesn't matter what country you're talking about, the immigration process to get Paul into the US was a colossal headache! First I had to file the I-129F Petition for Alien Fiance(e) which would allow Paul to file the K1 Non-immigrant Visa for Fiance(e). These were accompanied by about 12 other forms each outlining everything from our backgrounds, to finances to not just our criminal histories but histories of everyone in our immediate families! We also submitted supporting documentation as evidence of our relationship which manifested into an 8inch 5pound box of photos, gift receipts, airline ticket stubs and a phone record so large dad nearly had a heart attack when it arrived thinking it was last month's bill! Finally, after seven months of scrambling, arguments and 3 nervous breakdowns, Paul received word that he had an interview with the US consulate in London for a final determination about the visa.

I knew I'd be too nervous to sit by the phone and wait and as Paul's interview was scheduled two days before his college graduation, I immediately booked a flight and the next 8 weeks DRAGGED BY! There was a problem however during this time. We had a pretty good feeling that Paul would be granted the visa but I couldn't find affordable housing in a decent neighborhood. Mom and I pounded the pavement hitting as much as 3 roach infested, urine soaked apartments in skeevy neighborhoods a day until finally two weeks before I was to fly out, we came across a small one bedroom apartment in lower Bayonne. Unfortunately, the place was pretty filthy but mom and my sisters scrubbed the place from top to bottom while I was finishing the bureaucratic BS in London with Paul.

First, we arrived bright and early at the consulate, showed the desk person our appointment and went up to the 6th floor. There, another desk person had us wait 30 minutes until Paul was called up to yet another desk person. This desk person told Paul he would have to get a physical from an approved doctor a few blocks away and return for another appointment at 11am to finish up the process. So we went back out on to the street and queued up like good British people to wait for the office to open so the doctor could give him a full bill of health, do bloodwork and xrays and headed back to the consulate. By then the room was full of other people waiting for visas and paperwork but an hour or so later Paul was called again and the desk person had in her hands the massive box o' evidence we'd submitted. She'd told us #1 she was surprised to see me there as most of the time the other half doesn't make the appointment and #2 this was the most evidence she had ever seen in the 15 years she'd been doing the job. She then stamped Paul's passport and it was official, he had been granted permission to move to the United States so we could get married!

Two days later, on September 13th, I met up with my future mum-in-law and brother -in-law at Buckinghamshire Chilterns University College in High Wycombe to watch my future hubby walk down the aisle and receive his degree. We spent a final night with Paul's parents and flew back to America the next morning. One week later we were married, but that's a story for next time:)

Forget Springtime, I love Paris in the Summer!

Ah Paris, an experience all its own! During the visit described in last week's blog, Paul and I decided to take a side trip to Paris, France. Like my trip to England, Paris proved to be interesting but with Paul's help I managed not to cause any international incidents.

We anxiously waited in the behemoth that is Waterloo Station for the announcement to board the infamous Eurostar, a train that goes about 200mph, and I thought the trains in England were fast! Being the young American tourist, I took pictures of everything and anything that was interesting and different, including a machine I found in the bathroom that not only air dried your hands but shot a moisturizing liquid into them once your hands were dry! Of course, I took advantage of the few seconds the room was empty before snapping the pictures;) With the telltale flicking sounds of the old fashioned train station signs that I love and miss, it was announced that our train was now boarding! The Eurostar is the longest passenger train I've ever seen and sharply painted in white, yellow and navy blue with the sleek front that Acela passengers are now familiar with. The interior was remarkable to me then although now nearly every Amtrak train has followed by their example and was a far cry from the old fashioned trains Paul and I had jumped on and off during our commute to visit his family. Those trains still had thinly cushioned seats on wooden frames in individual compartments with their own doors that open and close to the outside. Though very uncomfortable, I love that I got to ride in them at least once before they were finally taken out of service a few years ago.

Anyway, back on the Eurostar, we chugged along coming to a stop as we approached the Chunnel (the Channel tunnel connecting England to France) and waited as customs came around to check everyone's passports and paperwork. Then, in a force I thought was reserved strictly for airplanes, the train started moving again, picking up speed as we zipped along so fast I was glad for the darkness outside to keep me from losing my lunch (rule #1 NEVER look out the window at any one given thing for too long while riding on a high speed train!). At the end of the 2 hour trip we pulled into Gard du Nord station and slipped into the funky filthy station that led to the Paris metro line. It was reminiscent of the NY subway system of the 80s complete with stench and graffiti but I was amazed at seeing a double decker subway train! We quickly climbed in and whisked off to the station closest to our Parisian hotel. As we wandered through to street level, we looked at each other and quickly sped past a large American man sporting a cowboy hat and bearing a remarkable likeness to Hank Hill loudly twanging at some poor customer service agent about finding a decent place to eat and "none of this frog leg, fru fru sheeyit"!

Once above ground I stopped and took a deep breath. One thing I noticed during my trips to Europe is the air is so much different than here in the US. I don't know if it's just because I'm always in vacation mode but the sky always seems crisper and the air feels cooler and clearer even in summer. It was about mid morning on a weekday so the streets were fairly empty as we made our way to the Best Western Derby Eiffel. I've never been a huge fan of Best Western hotels but this was one of those rare instances where I found a very elegant and impressive branch of the chain.

Now everyone talks about how nasty and uncooperative Parisians are but as Paul alerted me and I discovered myself, if you make an attempt no matter how foolish you feel at speaking French rather than rattling off to them in English, a Parisian will usually stop you, smiling sheepishly at the assault on his ears, and start speaking to you in English. We were given our room key and headed upstairs. Imagine our surprise when we opened the door to find someone else's stuff inside! After checking three times to make sure we had the right room (despite the fact the key opened the door you still feel compelled to check that you didn't make a mistake) we went back to the reception desk where the staff apologized profusely for double booking the room. There wouldn't be another available vacancy ready for several hours but we were able to leave our luggage with them and wander around the city for a few hours until the room was ready so it wasn't a big deal.

Our first stop was Notre Dame Cathedral. I'm a big fan of Victor Hugo's Hunchback of Notre Dame and stood there, looking up at this colossal building, just awestruck at the detail involved in a time before cranes and thinking about just how old the building really was. Seeing the place on the screen just doesn't compare to seeing it in real life! Inside, people spoke in hushed voices and sunlight poured in through the large stain glass windows and danced along the stone floor. There was a latin mass finishing up as we entered so we quietly wandered along near the walls looking at a kind of shadowbox exhibit of the Stations of the Cross.

We picked our way through the countless "starving artists" that set up shop on the streets and calling to us in every language they knew to get us to stop and buy something. Our next stop was the Eiffel Tower and we couldn't help but stand directly underneath it and look up (rule #2, make sure to do this in turns so you can catch each other when you start to fall over;). There were different admission prices for the three levels and a fourth if you wanted to eat at the restaurant on top but because of Paul's vertigo we only went as high as the second level. You could also walk up the stairs for free but well... no! You get on this strange little glass elevator that rides slanted up along the legs to your level and although we didn't go all the way to the top, the view on the second level was breathtaking! We wandered around the city and got to see the smaller replica of the Statue of Liberty that sits on a little island in the middle of the Seine, we ate the best chocolate eclairs I've ever had in life and which were about the size of your head and had a fairly forgettable lunch for tourists in a place located underneath a large stone bridge with very large pigeons walking around.

We went back to the hotel to rest and freshen up for dinner and discovered our luggage was already moved into our room which wasn't a room but a SUITE! There was no extra charge and the staff was apparently very happy we didn't explode at their snafu so the manager had us stay in the cute little suite with a giant clawfoot tub, big soft beds and french doors that opened up to a beautiful little cafe garden. Unlike lunch, dinner was very memorable. We wandered around and found a place called Le Royal Tour Brasserie. It was a warm night and we wanted to do the people watching thing so we sat at one of the tables outside. The menu was in French so I was at a total loss, however, Paul was able to translate somewhat and he ordered his usual steak and french fries while I went exotic, determined to try the local cuisine, and ordered a kind of pot pie with what I thought was beef in gravy with vegetables but Paul later informed me was probably horsemeat! The texture was softer and a bit stringier than regular beef but the whole thing tasted great so I didn't care and would probably order it again. This was also my first time ever trying Tiramisu. We wandered around a bit more, the city began waking up as the sun set a half hour before midnight, but we had an early train to catch so we headed back to the hotel.

We were only able to stay one night and only scratched the surface of places to go and things to see in Paris but we hope someday to return and hit everything next time!

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Well, that's it for this week. Our next post will take you on the roller coaster ride that was dealing with US Immigration and the nervous breakdowns that ensued. Have a great week everyone!

The Story of Us

In our crusade to raise money for the IUI I came across a writing contest that asks about love. I started thinking ok, with everything that's happened to us and everything we've been through what could I possibly write about that might come close enough to win? Well, the one story that always seems to get a reaction from people answers the question, "How did you two meet?"

It all started about 15 years ago. The internet was just starting to take off publicly, there was no Google, no Facebook or Twitter, not even Myspace and online shopping was a thing of science fiction... yes, it was the dark ages when dinosaurs roamed the earth! I (Miranda) had been a member of a great international penpal club that I'd found advertised in the back of Writer's Digest two years previous and had just received my latest list of potential friend matches. Paul's listing was fairly non-descript but we had enough in common that I shot off my usual introduction letter to him. The day I graduated high school I received a letter back and our friendship began.

We both liked writing long letters and talked about everything. Paul was a nice guy with a good sense of humor, had a slight issue with self esteem which I was steadily working to help him with and was on my list of penpals to visit when I would someday embark on the backpacking trip across Europe I'd always dreamed of. After a few letters we exchanged pictures and well, let's just say the picture I received prompted my mother to ask, "are you sure he's not a convict?" I assured her the agency had a strict policy against inmates as members of the club. The sinister looking picture did put me on guard but Paul's letters up to that point had been very nice and normal but I proceeded with caution for a little while. It hadn't helped that during the two years I'd been a member of the club, for every 3 or 4 nice people I corresponded with, there would be the odd nutjob or men who were passionately in love with me just by my intro letter and wanted to marry me (aka trolls looking for an American Visa).

As time went on Paul and I exchanged letters and gifts during the holidays and slowly became more immersed in each others' lives. The only thing better than coming home from school to a thick envelope with an international stamp on it waiting for you is making or getting that first phone call from another country! With us this happened almost a year after our first correspondence when Paul announced he would be visiting New York City and wanted to meet all his friends there. Accounting for the 5 hour time difference, I nervously dialed the number enclosed in his letter. To this day I don't actually know what we talked about! With his thick British accent combating my Northern New Jersey hybrid and colloquialisms, our first phone conversation consisted mainly of "Huh? What? I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" After a few more phone calls, we started being able to understand each other better and we couldn't wait for our first meeting, neither of us suspecting the circus act that that would actually be. Then again, as we've since discovered everything we involve ourselves in becomes a circus act of some kind, it was perfectly fitting!

On that gorgeous temperate day in late June my mother and I were supposed to go into the city to meet Paul at his Manhattan hotel. Mom would've felt better if we'd had a man along but as dad and my uncle were working, this just wasn't possible. My younger sisters wanted to tag along and early that morning my uncle called to tell us he would be able to come along after all. So we piled into mom's Plymouth Voyager and zipped off to the 9am meeting. I didn't want Paul to be accosted by a group of strange people in a minivan so I told them to wait there while I met him in the lobby. It was just a few minutes before 9 and the lobby was empty so I crossed to the in-house phones, nodding to some guy coming out of the elevator, and called up to the room. There was no answer so I figured he was on his way down and sat in the lobby. A few minutes went by and my youngest sister, Annie, decided to join me in the lobby. A few more minutes went by before my other sister, Lavinia, kept us company. A few minutes after that my uncle joins us and so the three of us sit, across from the stranger from the elevator, and wait. It was 9:15 before I call the room again, still no answer, and we're starting to wonder what's going on? Was he running late? Maybe he's stuck in the bathroom from a bad dinner the night before? Suddenly, a lightbulb goes on. My uncle asks me, what's your friend's name? I say, Paul. My uncle looks over at the stranger and asks, are you Paul? Lo and behold, we'd been sitting there staring at each other the whole damn time! Mind you the only thing I had to go by was the portrait of evil that had been sent to me months earlier and didn't do the cutie sitting across from me justice! (shaddap Paul, you are too and quit blushing;)

During this time my mom had gotten in touch with my dad and found out he was able to get out of work early and would be meeting us at the Statue of Liberty. So we headed over after a stop at the Empire State Building, making small talk between questions about life in England that were getting increasingly more embarrassing thanks to my uncle, and met up with my dad. By then it was too crowded to get to anything other than her feet so we decided to hop the subway to Coney Island.

Now, there were three things I'd asked my family not to bring up while Paul was visiting, two of which my uncle unceremoniously hit on repeatedly throughout the day while asking questions that made me want the ground to open up and swallow me. Questions like, "So what do you think of the Queen?" and "Are there swimming pools in England?". The clincher occurred underground while we were waiting for the train to Coney Island. Charlie Brown's teacher got on the PA system to announce there was some kind of delay due to smoke in the tunnel. We started joking about the NY subway system when my dear ole uncle with the diarrhea mouth blurts out "well at least we don't bomb our train lines!" (for those who aren't aware or don't remember, the UK had recently been having big problems with IRA bombings on their transportation system).

Well, at that moment I think time literally stood still and my family and I had managed to suck all the oxygen from that station having gasped at the same time. While my father pulled me aside and talked me down from ideas of shoving my uncle in front of a passing train, my mother pulled my uncle to one side and screamed his ears off while my sisters stood there in a state of shock! I don't know what Paul was doing at the time as I was battling my homicidal rage and embarrassment.

The rest of the day was a good one. My uncle was notably silent as we cruised through the aquarium, rode the Cyclone, introduced Paul to his first Nathan's hot dog and NY pretzel and bantered about whether or not to go on the Wonder Wheel. I was sad to see the day end but at 4pm, Paul and I said our goodbyes in the lobby with a hug and the umpteenth apology about my uncle. I had no romantic inclination towards him at the time, however, as I watched him enter the elevator and gave a final wave before heading out into the street, I had a strong feeling almost as if it were a whispered suggestion, that Paul and I would be in each other's lives forever.

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And so, that's the story of how we met:) Next week, we'll tell you about Paul's second visit when friendship began to blossom into love, but then everyone knows there's magic at a Renaissance Fair!

In the meantime, we're having our first giveaway (we hope to have one every 6 weeks or so). Right now every donation gets you entered in a live drawing April 25th (via Ustream, time TBD) for a Cappuccino Mug and Blueberry Pie candle set! You can't have pie without coffee and you just can't have coffee without pie:) The default flavors and scents are Cafe Latte and Blueberry but you can also get Mocha and Apple, Pumpkin, Strawberry, Lemon or Chocolate cream pie upon request. Or if you're sensitive or allergic to scented candles, they can also come unscented upon request.

So please, donate now and help us towards our goal of having a baby. Remember, proceeds not used by the procedure go to the March of Dimes and the National Adoption Center so you're helping three causes:) Also check out a site Paul and I created as part of our grieving process from our last pregnancy that gives information and guidance to those who've experienced the same problem and are having trouble dealing with it or knows of someone who does. Thanks and have a great week!