Well, wish us luck. We are heading downtown tomorrow to the U.S. Immigration and Naturalization office to once again (yes, one more time, with feeling) attempt to provide them the one piece of documentation remaining to push through our daughter-in-law's permanent residency (the infamous "green card").
Our son, who lacks patience in the first place, has asked for our assistance. This sounds embarassingly prejudiced, but we've been advised by others who have navigated this maze of bureaucracy that her showing up with Caucasian parents-in-law in professional business dress will go a long way toward cutting through the muck. I guess my job tomorrow is to look very blonde, speak with a honeyed Southern accent, and charm the immigration officer. Fortunately, my former Army officer husband is adept at manipulating a bureaucrat.