to briefly recap
the past few days Monday:
Monday morning, Y had his pre-op appt….it went ok. Surgery is on for the 17th.
Then The Hunk and I traveled to London to the Embassy to get the stupid, stupid enhanced disclosures notarized. So we get there with no trouble, unlike our last trip to London, when someone had committed suicide by throwing themselves on the electrified train tracks, and subsequently screwed up that train line for the rest of the day (talk about suicide being, ultimately, a selfish act).
So we arrive at the embassy at 2:15, for our 3:00 appointment. And there is a very ginormous line outside the embassy. So we worry a bit, and then resolve ourselves to waiting, because, thank God, it is a sunny day, and actually pretty warm. After about 45 minutes, a worker asks if anyone in the line is an American. We say “we are, we are!”, and, along with the other lucky few, are put into a much shorter, faster moving line, waaayyy ahead of the poor folks wanting Visas. I may have never been more happy about being American, because we only had to wait outside for 1 hour, while I saw other people’s appointment letters with times indicating that they had been waiting outside for over 3 hours. We did have a very rich American expat lady behind us who amused us with stories about how her housekeeper, while packing the family’s bags for the trip to America blah blah blah …hello! she has a housekeeper that packs her family’s bags for vacations! I really didn’t listen to the rest of the story because I couldn’t believe that I was standing next to someone who didn’t even pack her own bags…and apparently she couldn’t believe she was standing in line with regular folks like us, as she moaned about how terrible it is that they make everyone wait in line these days, they don’t care who you are.
Anyhow, we finally get inside, where The Hunk gets the VIP treatment because he has an official passport (I won’t tell you what the VIP treatment is, but it ain’t much). He says its the only time that passport has gotten him special anything. We actually don’t have to wait long inside at all, but to digress once more, there is this old man up at one of the many tellar-like windows, loudly and repeatedly telling the embassy worker that he is 75 years old, an American, will be in critical medical condition in 48 hours, and needs 400 pounds. Did I say repeatedly, because I mean he said that statement many many times. The Hunk and some stranger next to us were joking about how they didn’t know the embassy gave away money and where did they sign up, but I felt really bad for the man. How depressing and scary would it be to be in a foreign country with no family, very sick, with no money? (Of course this man may be totally scamming the system, but I seriously doubt it, especially because the embassy was very obviously not going to give him any money, and the worker was on the verge of calling security to remove him when we left…plus why would you wait outside for all that time unless you were pretty desparate?)
Moving back to the real story, The Hunk and I step up to our window, tell the woman that we need our enhanced disclosures notarized, and look blankly at the very nice woman when she tells us that most adoptive parents bring their own forms to be notarized. What? We tell her that our homestudy worker told us that the notarization needs to be on the notary’s letterhead. So she hands us a sheet of paper each with the Embassy’s address on the top and a blank space in the middle, and tells us to write whatever we want, and then she will notarize our signatures. WHAT????? Let me just tell you that if we wanted our signatures notarized, then we can do that from the comfort of our local JAG office! The very nice lady tells us that notaries notarize signatures, which is EXACTLY what our JAG office told us. So we each write “I attest that this is a genuine and valid document”, sign the sheets, and she notarizes them. The Hunk then wonders aloud why he had to take the afternoon off of work, come all the way to London, and wait outside for an hour to get our flippin signatures notarized. I totally agree. Then we head home. So that was the trip.
This post has gotten way too long, and I am definitely not done bitching about this and other adoption related subjects. I will say one thing more, and then it will have to be continued on another day. Did I just blindly journey to the embassy, dragging my poor husband along, without seeking advice on how to notarize the enhanced disclosure? Oh but no, my friends. Oh. But. No.
To be continued….(hopefully with Parks pics)