It started as a fantasy...

Once in awhile when it's a slow day in the ice cream parlor, I make up stories in my head, of course, for the customers who come in. There's the guy who walks a poodle and stops on Mondays for a small cone for himself and a dish of vanilla ice cream for his dog. The couple who come in at 9:50 pm on Sunday nights and order huge sundaes with tons of stuff on them and they are both about 5 foot tall and are about that wide. There's the old couple who comes in and the woman wears a wig and the man tells her what to order. It goes on and on- I have a made up story or a 'fantasy' world for all of these people.

So there's a woman who comes in about 5 times a week. She is a tall- I mean tall- all legs with a great and is blond. She wears skimpy dresses with lots of cleavage, has great shoes (usually of the super high heeled fuck me variety) and always has perfect make up. She comes in with her little girl. She buys a bunch of candy and she gets ice cream in a waffle cone with a spoon and she gets her daughter a kids dish of something. They sit in the dining room and the little girl plays with the basket of toys we have and the woman, whom I'm guessing is the mother of the child, sings her songs. In Russian. Okay, when she orders she has a thick accent that is eastern European. It might NOT be Russian but...

I don't know anything about these 2 people but I've decided she was a struggling woman, an orphan with her father being part of old world USSR and just vanished one day and a mother who died of syphilis, who had a baby with the love of her life who was married and when she turned up pregnant he left her. Before the baby, she was happy being his mistress, wearing beautiful clothes he bought her, and took her on exotic trips. Now, unmarried and pregnant, she was ashamed and broke. She was poor and dreamed of coming to America to be an actress. She couldn't even afford to feed her daughter and she didn't want to turn to prostitution. In a final act of desperation she talked to a man who came from the old country she called "Uncle" to help her. He got her papers and a plane ticket. He arranged for a husband, and safe passage to the US. She came to the US and found out that she was married to an old man, who died and left her as a young Russian American widow, stranded here in the Midwest, missing her homeland, with no family and wishing she was in Hollywood.

Okay so that's all going through my head and I made it all up. I didn't know anything about her. I swear.

So, I waited on her over the weekend and giggled a bit as she left. The owner asked me what was so funny and I said something like, "I think she's a mail order bride from Russia."

The owner said, "Yeah, she's the one" and walks away. I stood there with my mouth hanging open. Wha?????????????????

So I immediately followed the owner to the back room and pumped her for information. Apparently, I wasn't too far off the mark. Truth: She was a mail order bride and she arrived in the States with the child. She married a guy who is rumored to be gay. This way she gets to be a citizen and he gets credibility since he's in a prominent position where he would receive much harassment for being gay. (I live in a small town; right or wrong, trust me on this, it would happen). Oh, and he was Amish and left the community. I don't know if he left before or after the mail order bride showed up. Or because of the gay thing. And she is from Russia.

I wonder if I write a little fantasy for myself if it would come true?
Maggie

I've lost that lovin' feelin'

I finally learned that my passport was mailed on Tuesday, from New Orleans. Then yesterday it was in Memphis, TN. For some reason today it was in Arkansas. My passport is taking its own vacation apparently.

Yesterday when I learned where it was, I figured my passport was flying Northwest Airlines (those of you who travel often will understand this reference) because that seems to be the right route. I thought it it would actually be here, say... TODAY. I found the tracking number and followed it online via USPS. When I got home from school on my lunch hour, which I purposely left for so I could get the passport, it wasn't there. After sending Sam a text message using every swear word I know and cursing the following: (and I quote) "I hate the USPS, the passport office, the State Department, Northwest Airlines, and Hillary," I decided to track it down. So, based on what I learned, I guess it should be here tomorrow. I'm thinking "yeah, right. I'll believe it when I see it."

I missed meeting Sam in Amsterdam on Saturday with this delay. And his business trip to Amsterdam was extended to Brussels, Belgium, Luxembourg and France. I'm missing ALL of those because my passport didn't arrive yesterday or today. I would say "not happy" describes me. As of now, it looks like I'll be in Dublin and visit some of the countryside and I'm taking an overnight into Scotland via the ferry. Unless any of you rich readers want to send me large amounts of cash so I can go into London!

He's reserved my ticket for Thursday March 5, 2009 with a 24 hour hold so if I get my passport tomorrow he'll book me immediately. Here's hoping, so please cross your fingers, do a happy dance, pray to whatever god or goddess that ails ya, chant, swear in Hebrew, whatever- that I will please get my passport on Friday!!!

And when I started thinking about it, between Tuesday when it was posted and tomorrow, I could've driven to New Orleans, picked up the passport in person, had a hurricane or 2 or 7 at Paddy O's, performed at the Cat's Meow, earned some beads, and have been back by the time my mail runs tomorrow!!!!

Singin' the passport blues,
Maggie

The State Department isn't feeling the love apparently

I think Hilary Clinton is the anti-Cupid. I still have no passport!!!!

I cannot find my status on their website any more, either. I've called and asked about it with no answers that are useful.

Sam has called every Washington contact he has and no one can touch my passport application which is somewhere in the Philly office.

And I was supposed to leave on Friday... guess that's not gonna happen. AND I'm missing a holiday with him in Amsterdam. He's still going, and I don't blame him. It's part pleasure and part business. I'm jealous and just sick about it; this sucks!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Pissy pink,
Mags