Of course, you need proof of address to get a PPS number too. They recommend using a recent bank statement. For a moment, I thought I was in a classic Catch-22 situation. Upon a moment’s quiet reflection and a quiet reminder that Ireland is a good and reasonable place, I stumbled upon a solution.

The Social Welfare office will not bat an eyelash if you show up with your passport, residency card, and your Irish spouse’s proof of address. I brought my marriage cert to provide the crucial link between me and my spouse, something I considered necessary given we have different surnames, but the civil servant waved it away and said “We don’t need your marriage cert, this is fine.” Apparently being able to place your hands on a piece of mail is both necessary and sufficient for proving one lives in Ireland.

Then again, it might have been that the mail I chose was a confirmation letter regarding the wire of money from my American bank account to the Wanderer’s Irish one. Wires are serious business, as was the quantity of money being wired. (Pro tip: If you’re wiring money abroad, verify the receiving bank can deal with foreign currency and wire the money in your home currency. The rate will be better. Free money is a good thing.)

The stars have been aligned for me this week. Registration was painless and almost enjoyable. The weather has been sunny and mild, even straying into Angelino levels of lovely. And when I showed up at the Social Welfare office armed with hours and hours of knitting, expecting to queue behind hundreds of dole/welfare recipients signing for their cheques, there was no one there save a cheerful civil servant who watched me take a ticket, then called me over. The entire PPS number application process took about ten minutes, and that was only because I took the time to fill out the form in legible block capitals.

Now I really don’t have an excuse for not finding a job.

Of course, it was that easy.

The immigration office had moved since I last had to deal with it, and had upgraded significantly. I insisted on getting there as early as we could to avoid day-long queues, so by 9:45 we’d arrived and had gotten a number. By 10:30, we were walking out the door with a registration card (it looks like a standard ID card and has a chip with my fingerprints on) and permission for me to stay and work for 5 years.

There was no: trouble over having a different surname, questioning over what exactly I plan to do here, request for evidence of cohabitation, suspicious looks implying somehow I am trying to cheat them out of their lovely country and culture, fee of any kind.

There were: smiles, clear and kind instructions, fast and efficient service, and astonished respect that I’d managed to preserve my registration documents from when I was here years ago. (“That thing is ancient,” I had been told at passport control. The people in immigration passed it around with reverence, flipping carefully through the pages as if they would crumble into dust if poorly treated.)

I suspect many things contributed to my experience, some of them a result of hard work and planning, others mere luck of birth. They did not check my qualifications or ask for my title, but I did list my occupation as “scientist.” Not only was I married to a local, I had an Irish marriage certificate and it was clear that the marriage had taken – after four years, such things stop being convenient and people start taking you seriously even if you’re applying for a visa. I think being American, fluent in English, and white helped significantly, though I did notice people ahead of me from Afghanistan and Cameroon who were processed just as easily as me without being white or American (though they may well have been fluent English speakers).

In any case, it’s done now and I have no excuse for not finding a job.

Leaving LA for Dublin presents a new set of blog-friendly circumstances, however: I am unemployed and full of observations. Last night saw my happy Dublin debut, in which I forgot where Cassidy’s was (if indeed I ever knew), met up with people I haven’t seen in quite some time, found myself a game, and had my first decent pint(s) in years. The process of legalizing myself may take a little time, especially if the international banking system fails me and decides to hold my vast riches hostage, but last night assured me I will not want for things to do in the meantime.

I first took it into my head to leave the States when I was 15, and every large decision since then was based at least in part on that goal. While I certainly have new ideas and plans, it’s strange and disorienting to finally be here, clutching two hard-won things, looking out towards new goals that are lovely but lack the timeworn substance of those promises I made to myself so very long ago. Luckily, there’s quite a lot I need to get done. By the time things slow down, the short-term plan should have crystallised appropriately.

About the only thing people on both sides of the immigration issue can agree on is that the citizenship test (the knowledge-based requirement of getting citizenship) needed some work.

The new American citizenship test for naturalisation hopefuls has been approved and will be put into use next year. Always on the ball, the New York Times talks about it. The test includes Constitutional law, American history, and modern politics. This is, apparently, something that “genuinely talks about what makes an American citizen.” I’m forced to wonder whether every genuine American citizen can name the Speaker of the House, or any of the writers of the Federalist Papers. (Happily, “Publius” is an accepted answer to that last one. And “War Between the States” is an accepted answer for “Name the US war between the North and the South.”)

I don’t have a problem with newcomers being required to know these things. I just wish all voting Americans had such comprehensive knowledge of government and history. (This shouldn’t be interpreted to mean I believe there should be a test requirement for voting — that’s another discussion entirely.)

Not everyone is happy, of course. John Fonte, a senior fellow at the conservative Hudson Institute, said he “would like to see an even more vigorous emphasis on Americanization.”

I assume by “Americanization” he means understanding British philosophies on free markets and freedom of speech in a primarily German Protestant ethical framework. He probably means knowing about (if not liking) the nation’s iconic foods, like pizza (Italian/Greek), hamburgers (German), and fries (probably Belgian). He almost certainly means not taking part in the war on Christmas, and embracing German traditions like putting up a Christmas tree every winter.

He might mean sharing citizenship with people who claim to be Irish, Polish, German, and Italian (often all the same person) yet probably couldn’t point out Warsaw on a map.

Far, far away from here there are other countries struggling with immigration issues as well. I’m confident they will work things out faster and better than Americans have. Looking at America’s 400+ year history with immigration, its complete and utter failure to acknowledge the integral role immigrants have had in shaping modern American culture even after 200 years of invasion makes me wonder whether “native” people are capable of allowing the integration they say they expect.

As the K3 expires this week, the Wanderer’s new status is “I-485 pending,” which means he’s not allowed to leave the country. Well, that’s a little dramatic. He’s certainly allowed to leave whenever he wants, it’s just that USCIS will cancel his green card application if he does. (And it “may trigger the three or ten year ban,” though it’s not clear exactly what would change that “may” to a less ambiguous “will” or “won’t.”) We can also apply for a travel document, but such things take at least three months to process (and cost a nontrivial amount of money), which makes Christmas plans a bit tight. This state of limbo remains until the application is completed. Current processing times are between 6 and 9 months, and they received the application on 8 August.

So that’s February at the earliest (read: luckiest) that we’ll be able to go jetsetting again, for those of you keeping score at home.

The really exciting part is that one’s driver’s license is linked to one’s legal presence, and the Wanderer’s job makes frequent and necessary use of this license. (The xenophobes will try to tell you illegal immigrants can get all sorts of nifty benefits like driver’s licenses without having to prove their status. They are wrong, woefully wrong, in addition to being loathsome individuals.) So the Wanderer’s driver’s license expires at the same time his K3 does, this week. Bad things happen when you let your license expire, whether you’re a citizen or not. USCIS assures us the I-797 Notice of Action is sufficient to reassure the Legal Presence Verification Unit of the Wanderer’s status, but the Unit itself is less reassuring, demanding a Notice of Approval. We will hopefully learn more tomorrow, after carting the I-797 to the DMV and waving it about under their noses.

We’re also filing another EAD application, as it too expires soon. The fun never stops.

I-485 sent off: 20 July 2007
I-485 received: 25 July 2007
I-485 cheque cashed by Homeland Security: 8 August (ye gods!)
Biometrics paperwork received by us: 10 August (or so)
Biometrics appointment set to happen: 6 September

Using the last biometrics appointment as a guide (went in on 21 November 2005, work permit received two and a half weeks later on 9 December), we are on track to have a response on the IR-1 nail-bitingly close to the 20 September expiration of the K3. People who believe they know a lot about immigration have assured me that people live and work and pay taxes in the US on dodgy paperwork all the time, but so far no one has been able to confirm that it’s possible to walk into a green card interview with an expired K3 and make it through unscathed. In the same way that you can drive around California with neither a license nor insurance until the day you get pulled over for having a broken tail light, playing fast and loose with visa deadlines might be problematic.

I am trying not to think too much about this. However, as people begin to make plans and book flights for Christmas, I will point out that if things go pear-shaped, the Wanderer may be grounded until either 1. I graduate or 2. he decides to head back to Ireland to stay. Because this discussion is now tangentially linked to my graduation, standard rules apply.

I-130 sent off: 31 May 2005
I-130 receipt received: 8 June
I-129F sent off: 9 June
I-129F approved: 8 July
Wanderer contacted by US Embassy in Dublin: 5 August
Medical exam scheduled for: 12 September
Results from exam received: 14 September
Appointment with US Embassy Dublin made for: 16 September
Wanderer arrives in LA: 21 September
I-765 sent off: 3 October
Biometrics appointment: 21 November
EAD received: 9 December
I-130 approved: 10 December
– (long interlude)
Bill received for I-864: December 2005
Bill paid for I-865: mid-2006
Bill received for DS-230: August 2005
Bill paid for DS-230: 13 March 2007
I-865 sent off: 13 March

Note that the initial forms and petitions required payment to be sent with the form. The statement of finances (this is a separate, longer form than the previously chronicled I-134; the I-134 is for the K3, the I-864 is for the CR/IR1) and final, ultimate green card application must be paid for before they send you the forms. They must also be paid with a cashier’s check or money order, which are highly inconvenient forms of payment for the payer because they 1. cost money to get and 2. cannot easily be tracked. Considering this visa’s track record with the post, you can imagine why I’d prefer to check on the money.

It might seem odd that the National Visa Center withholds forms to guarantee payment. After all, it’s not like we can’t get these things off the web through extremely official and legal channels. I don’t know how many people actually use the forms the NVC sends these days, since it’s far easier to use Acrobat than to argue with formatting in Word (the horror!) or break into the local high school career counselor’s office and nick their typewriter. Additionally, anyone who’s gotten this far into the process knows better than to send anything — be it money, forms, or supporting documents — until it’s been asked for. Still, to anyone wandering down this rocky road, I say you must not dismiss the thick packet the NVC sends you 6-8 weeks after paying your form bill, for it contains not only directions and your forms (an ungodly large amount of paper consisiting of 80% instructions) but a sheet of paper with a barcode on it. This must be included with your forms, or chaos will surely result.

I must admit to being a little impressed by this. The only way they could make it easier for their record keepers is if they barcoded the forms as well, which would be an extreme headache for us because of the aforementioned preference for electronically preparing the forms and printing them only when necessary for sacrifice to the postal service.

The next step is the last step, barring disaster (which may well be in store, and may indeed be my own fault for dragging my feet so disgracefully). Once the DS-230 bill is paid, we receive the forms and instructions for the green card interview. There is one question in my mind that I can’t answer anywhere else, so I will pose it here. Either it will get answered, or (more likely) I will discover the answer in the fullness of time and future searchers with similar issues will find it.

Both the CR1 and IR1 are “green cards,” that is, permanent residence visas. Those acronyms stand for “Conditional Relative” and “Immediate Relative.” The CR1 is granted to a foreign-born spouse when the couple has been married less than two years. (Some sources say this two year condition pertains to the spouse’s entry, some say it ticks on the date the visa is granted. I suspect the latter is correct.) The visa is good for two years. The couple can apply to “have the conditions removed” within ninety days of the two year anniversary of entry, the CR1 becomes an IR1, and it’s good for ten years.

There is a chance our interview (and, with no small amount of luck, the awarding of the visa) will happen after our two-year anniversary. Will we get an IR1 or a CR1?

My money is on the CR1, unless we interview with an exceptionally savvy government employee who is capable of 1. noticing we’re very close to the two-year mark and 2. switching things around.

The drama never ends. I expect to blog again on this in a month or so when (if?) the DS-230 package arrives.