Buying our lottery tickets
I was pretty beaten down when I got the email from our champion lawyer at Caritas, saying that even though we managed to get Emmanuel his hospitality letter, we are still missing a pile of papers from yet a third lawyer that he had while he was at the refugee camp. Making matters worse, she said that if he lost his appeal, we can't even bother to try to get him a stay permit/permesso. That would mean all the work we did was for nothing. I wrote lawyer number two who is working on the appeal. He told me that the hearing is for the end of this month, and the decision won't be known for a month after that. I asked him what we should do; and I quickly did an internet search to find the phone number of the third lawyer, so that he could kindly please please please get the missing papers from the appeal. The one ray of hope is that he can file for some kind of fancy, Italian do-over to put in a new plea for Italy to keep him here. I then had to give him the news. He was in an up mood and said that he is a believer and thinks that God will give him a miracle. He asked me if I was a believer. I said, honey, I do believe, but I also want to make sure you've heard the one about God and the man who prayed and prayer to win the lottery. God finally got frustrated and hollered at the man, how do you expect me to have you win the lottery, if you never buy a ticket? You are most likely going to lose the appeal hearing, and you have to know that, but then we are going to pray our pants off that you get a fresh start. So please, Emmanuel, go buy yourself a lottery ticket, abeg?
|Giving out the autographs . .|
Tina got all dressed up, she is a knock out by nature, but when she gets done up she is breathtaking, and brought Peace into town on the train to show her off. We handed off the vaccines and all the resumes and doctors' notes to her and Job and Stanley. We met up with Monica at the famous Giusti bakery who has been very generous to Tina, letting her ask for money outside the bakery and frequently giving her donations of baby things and the like. As we stood in the street, people came up to touch Peace and adore her like she was a Disney princess in Orlando. She looks just like her mother. I have never seen anything like it.
|I don't get out much . . .|
|This is what Italians looks like when they have to hear me speak ..|
|Barbara, Jack and Courtney at Satura|
Last night we went out to dinner at the restaurant where Paul is washing dishes with Courtney and her dad Jack, Elena and Angelo, Barbara and Alessandro. I don't go around calling people a hoot, but Courtney's dad is a hoot. He has dozens of very esoteric interests that he is passionate about, and he has my undying respect for the fact that he follows through. On all of them! Even though we were the weirdest common denominator between all of the friends there were enough cross over interests to keep the bilingual conversations going. Paul was thrilled to see us, and I did my best to up his kitchen cred with the two other members of his work team, both of which were super sweet guys.
I got home to find out we have a chance of getting a quote from Elizabeth Lesser, if Elisabetta Povoledo ever comes to write about the group. I'm buying myself a lottery ticket.