Ah! At last, an answer to the most-asked question to all emigrants ever: where will you go?
Since our NOA2 date, we’ve been busily exchanging e-mail with the National Visa Center, hoping to get the green card sorted asap. However, we had no idea where we’d end up yet, which made the whole ‘we will be moving-plan’ feel very shaky and somewhat unreal.
Beloved had signed up for three grad school programs. In order of his preference, those are located on the West Coast, on the East Coast and one in-the-middle-but-really-in-the-West.
Yesterday we heard that he has been admitted into his preferred program. Which means that – no matter what the other schools say: we’re going to California. California, baby! I mean, wow… It has jobs, it has public transit, it has diversity, culture and an ethic that (as far as I can see, at least) agrees with us. Not to mention food, national parks, lively communities for alternative lifestyles and the Best Excuse Ever for all the friends and family we leave behind to come visit us frequently.
Please excuse me while I am very proud of Beloved for being an Officially Recognized Smartypants and Generally Awesome Badass and while I have weird domestic daydreams about Pendleton blankets. Because that’s the one big thing I want when we establish US residency. I want to sleep under Pendleton blankets. Everything else I’ll thrift, dumpster dive (if no bedbugs, of course) or otherwise scrounge up, but a Pendleton blanket shall decorate our bed.