Seeing that One-Legged Stool

I realize that the title of this blog is a little odd and not very self-explanatory, so I thought I'd give my few readers (most of which are my aunts, so they know the story anyways) an explanation. My Nonno, the Italian word for grandfather, was an immigrant to the US and grew up in the small town of Coltura in the Italian Alps. He immigrated with his brother, Atillio, and they settled in Western PA where they moved around a bit, trying out different jobs and such. Livio Fedrizzi eventually found his home in Pittsburgh and started working at a grocery store/butcher shop, of which he would eventually become part owner. He married my grandmother, Irma Valetti, and they had 5 girls. Nonno was a very hard worker, a really smart guy, extremely kind and, above all, focused on his family. He put his 5 daughters through college and because of him and my grandma we are still all very close. So, when I was a little girl he used to tell me stories and teach me Italian songs, words, phras...

This morning I drove down the Philly in the pouring rain (thanks to Marlie for letting me use her car!) and parked at a lot near the building I needed to go to in order to try to get my visa... again. I got THE LAST SPOT in the lot which was about the only good thing to happen thus far in the day.  The building the consulate is in is literally across the street from Independence Hall - so cool. When you walk in you sign a form with your name and other personal info and leave it there for others to sign and the visa guy to read. Now it's not like they black out everything so other people don't see your info like they do at your normal PCP office. And there isn't a separate room - everyone is crammed into a small waiting room and when it's your turn you go up to the window and talk to the guy with everyone listening. This place is crawling with HIPAA violations! Long story short, there were three failures and one success before I made my way to the window. I gave him ...