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Hey everyone another gorgeous Spring Day. Time for everyone to show off how pale we are in the Northwest. (don't forget your sunblock because cancer is a total downer.)
Today I went and had my fingerprints taken at my local USCIS (US citizen and immigration services) branch. It was for my visa and they pretty much handle all of that for asssorted embassies/consulates. Like any other thing involving the federal government, there are such specific details to access the premises. You MUST have cash to pay for the car park. They tell you, "it is this much but it can change at any time and it is better if you have exact change because we may not be able to make change because we are the federal government and we are like that."
You can't even go into the damn building unless you have a piece of paper that shows you have an appointment.
A slight aside, it seems that everyone who works in that building is not a native-born citizen. Not that that is a mark against it but it is kind of fun. "Hey get your paperwork in order and you too can come and work for us helping more immigrants." I realize that it is actually kind of a smart thing to have non-native born people working there because you essentially have built-in translators for every situation. Once one gets through the assorted lines you get to wait in... a room. You wait for your number to be called and in my case I got to go into... another room. They had Up playing on a television. Because nothing unites all cultures like Pixar.
It also appears that tiny older ladies of Asian descent do the biometrics. I think it is because nothing sets a person at ease like the definite authority of a little old Asian lady. It's that same authority that keeps people coming back to Korean Spas where they scrape off all of your skin in the most intimate of places. What is this authority? Where does it come from? It's isn't as if every woman of Asian descent grew up in an Amy Tan novel. I digress.
The little lady did a good job of setting me at ease because by this point (what with all the requirements and details you become fearful of farting because it might mean more paperwork) I was a little tense. She asked me if I was a student. I said, "nope, just a woman following her husband to the hinterlands." They do a very thorough job of getting your finger prints. Then they took my picture. The lady took such a great picture of me I almost wanted to ask her for a copy. Seriously. (It isn't easy to photograph me)
Then I skipped out of there with more paperwork stamped. Now to mail off this bitch tall pile of paperwork to the British consulate and mark off another task.
After all of that fun, I picked up Miss Biscuit and we went to get Senor Onion from school. They were at the near by playground this afternoon because it was such a lovely day. They had spent half of the school period running around and having a good time. One of the Moms working came up to me and was saying, "Oh Senior Onion had a fantastic day...but there was this incident."
It seems that Senor Onion had waited for some time to play with this wheel on the playground equipment. (another kid beat him to it and Senor Onion really worked hard to wait his turn. For that I am wildly proud.) Finally the wheel was free and just as Senor Onion was about to play with it, this stray/feral parent (not part of the school) comes up and shoves Senor Onion aside and said, "my little girl is going to have a turn." And proceeds to push his daughter into place. Senor Onion (rightfully ticked off) pointed out that it was HIS turn. The Father began to berate Senor Onion. (at this point as I am being told the story... a primitive urge within me began to feel really really angry) Senor Onion began to cry (as the Mom said, he had been working hard to hold it together and this random grown up just broke all the rules and had no respect for Senor Onion's rights) and this Father said, "What? You're gonna cry? You're a crybaby now????" OH FUCK NO. The Mom working rushed right in there and grabbed up Senor Onion in a protective hug and told that feral Father off, "AT THIS PLAYGROUND WE DO NOOOOOOOOOOOOT TREAT PEOPLE THAT WAY OR SAY THINGS LIKE THAT." She also pointed out that Senor Onion had been waiting. When I heard what that Father said... I began to look around the playground wondering if he was around because I was about to fuck up someone's face. I had a taste for blood. Thankfully the Mom scared that Father off good and hard. She wondered if he was high or something. His manner seemed.... incredibly odd to her. I feel terrible for that Father's child. To have that kind of person raising you must be absolute hell. It is a damn good thing that Dad was not there because I would have ended up on the news. The thing that makes me feel better is that Senor Onion is in a preschool where the parents rush in and protect my child and stand up for him. She said it took everything not to punch that Dad in the face. To have someone feel that way regarding my child really made me feel loved and feel my child is cared for. So hey feral Father from hell....you BEST not try that shit at that playground or any playground ever again. Because I will hunt you down and make you wish you had never dared to glance at a swing set. Also I will take your kid off of your hands since you can't be bothered to treat a small person with any concern and no child should be raised in that environment.
After all of that I took the kids out for gelato. Because hurray for ice cream. Senor Onion is turning into Mr. Adventure wanting to try new flavors every time. Miss Biscuit is in a phase where she wants any kind of ice cream/gelato as long as it is pink. Pink pink pink. So a lot of strawberry. We ate gelato, made a great mess and enjoyed a leisurely walk back to the car. Taking note of the Fire House (where Senor Onion's friend's Dad works. He refers to it as Vincent's fire house.) and the toy shop.
Today I went and had my fingerprints taken at my local USCIS (US citizen and immigration services) branch. It was for my visa and they pretty much handle all of that for asssorted embassies/consulates. Like any other thing involving the federal government, there are such specific details to access the premises. You MUST have cash to pay for the car park. They tell you, "it is this much but it can change at any time and it is better if you have exact change because we may not be able to make change because we are the federal government and we are like that."
You can't even go into the damn building unless you have a piece of paper that shows you have an appointment.
A slight aside, it seems that everyone who works in that building is not a native-born citizen. Not that that is a mark against it but it is kind of fun. "Hey get your paperwork in order and you too can come and work for us helping more immigrants." I realize that it is actually kind of a smart thing to have non-native born people working there because you essentially have built-in translators for every situation. Once one gets through the assorted lines you get to wait in... a room. You wait for your number to be called and in my case I got to go into... another room. They had Up playing on a television. Because nothing unites all cultures like Pixar.
It also appears that tiny older ladies of Asian descent do the biometrics. I think it is because nothing sets a person at ease like the definite authority of a little old Asian lady. It's that same authority that keeps people coming back to Korean Spas where they scrape off all of your skin in the most intimate of places. What is this authority? Where does it come from? It's isn't as if every woman of Asian descent grew up in an Amy Tan novel. I digress.
The little lady did a good job of setting me at ease because by this point (what with all the requirements and details you become fearful of farting because it might mean more paperwork) I was a little tense. She asked me if I was a student. I said, "nope, just a woman following her husband to the hinterlands." They do a very thorough job of getting your finger prints. Then they took my picture. The lady took such a great picture of me I almost wanted to ask her for a copy. Seriously. (It isn't easy to photograph me)
Then I skipped out of there with more paperwork stamped. Now to mail off this bitch tall pile of paperwork to the British consulate and mark off another task.
After all of that fun, I picked up Miss Biscuit and we went to get Senor Onion from school. They were at the near by playground this afternoon because it was such a lovely day. They had spent half of the school period running around and having a good time. One of the Moms working came up to me and was saying, "Oh Senior Onion had a fantastic day...but there was this incident."
It seems that Senor Onion had waited for some time to play with this wheel on the playground equipment. (another kid beat him to it and Senor Onion really worked hard to wait his turn. For that I am wildly proud.) Finally the wheel was free and just as Senor Onion was about to play with it, this stray/feral parent (not part of the school) comes up and shoves Senor Onion aside and said, "my little girl is going to have a turn." And proceeds to push his daughter into place. Senor Onion (rightfully ticked off) pointed out that it was HIS turn. The Father began to berate Senor Onion. (at this point as I am being told the story... a primitive urge within me began to feel really really angry) Senor Onion began to cry (as the Mom said, he had been working hard to hold it together and this random grown up just broke all the rules and had no respect for Senor Onion's rights) and this Father said, "What? You're gonna cry? You're a crybaby now????" OH FUCK NO. The Mom working rushed right in there and grabbed up Senor Onion in a protective hug and told that feral Father off, "AT THIS PLAYGROUND WE DO NOOOOOOOOOOOOT TREAT PEOPLE THAT WAY OR SAY THINGS LIKE THAT." She also pointed out that Senor Onion had been waiting. When I heard what that Father said... I began to look around the playground wondering if he was around because I was about to fuck up someone's face. I had a taste for blood. Thankfully the Mom scared that Father off good and hard. She wondered if he was high or something. His manner seemed.... incredibly odd to her. I feel terrible for that Father's child. To have that kind of person raising you must be absolute hell. It is a damn good thing that Dad was not there because I would have ended up on the news. The thing that makes me feel better is that Senor Onion is in a preschool where the parents rush in and protect my child and stand up for him. She said it took everything not to punch that Dad in the face. To have someone feel that way regarding my child really made me feel loved and feel my child is cared for. So hey feral Father from hell....you BEST not try that shit at that playground or any playground ever again. Because I will hunt you down and make you wish you had never dared to glance at a swing set. Also I will take your kid off of your hands since you can't be bothered to treat a small person with any concern and no child should be raised in that environment.
After all of that I took the kids out for gelato. Because hurray for ice cream. Senor Onion is turning into Mr. Adventure wanting to try new flavors every time. Miss Biscuit is in a phase where she wants any kind of ice cream/gelato as long as it is pink. Pink pink pink. So a lot of strawberry. We ate gelato, made a great mess and enjoyed a leisurely walk back to the car. Taking note of the Fire House (where Senor Onion's friend's Dad works. He refers to it as Vincent's fire house.) and the toy shop.
