Oh, the irony. I can’t remember if I’ve written this before or not, my blogging these days is anything but punctual. However, to make a long story short – the day after I set my wobbly feet back on US soil I got a letter from our attorney. Jamie had been granted his Norwegian visa. Earth, please: shake, crack and spit me, for I can take no more. Let me remind you, we struggled for two freaking years to get that decision. We thought all hope was lost, not literally, but for the time being, and we needed a change. So I quit my job, sold our furniture, moved the rest of our belongings back to mom and dad, and decided to head west once again. Tada! And then, THEN, on the other side of the world, sans jobs and a crib, Norway decided they wanted us after all. Well, tough shit.
We’ll go back one day, of course. But right now, we’re back to scratch, filling out the paperwork for the alien (that would be me). And some of the questions I need to answer YES or No to, sound like these,
“Do you intend to engage in the United States in espionage?”
“Have you ever ordered, incited, called for, committed, assisted, helped with, or otherwise participated in …. acts involving torture or genocide?”
Why, yes. Is that going to be a problem? Kidding.
Jokes aside, I’m looking forward to the day Jamie and I can live “normally” (what’s normal, anyways?) without having to file applications and applications in order to live like a married couple on the same continent without some bizarre deadline looming.