My Words Ain't Nothin' to Hers

(Source: L.A. Times/Getty Images)

One of the first labor activists was a man named Joe Hill.  Prior to his death, he wrote to a friend.  His letter included Hill's most famous quote:

"Don't waste any time mourning. Organize!"

Don't mourn, organize! has been a rallying cry for unions around the world ever since.  I speak from experience.  Significantly, the cry goes out today, during this COVID-19 pandemic. Nurses, bus drivers, custodial workers--all face exposure (and sometimes outright danger).  Those in unions tend to be better protected because they get a voice in the conversation.

I'd like to turn your attention to this opinion piece from a union nurse in Minnesota (Emily Pierskalla, RN).  She writes better than I do, so I leave it to her from hereon.  Here are her admonishments:

• I want you to politicize my death. I want you to use it as fuel to demand change in this industry, to demand protection, living wages, and safe working conditions for nurses and ALL workers.
• Use my death to mobilize others.
• Use my name at the bargaining table.
• Use my name to shame those who have profited or failed to act, leaving us to clean up the mess.
• Don’t say “heaven has gained an angel.” Tell them negligence and greed has murdered a person for choosing a career dedicated to compassion and service.

Maybe it's better if you see it yourself:

https://mnnurses.org/want-my-death-make-you-angry/

Stay safe...I don't want to have to send thoughts & prayers.

With Appreciation

A student approached Zen Buddhist master, Nakagawa Sōen:

 “I am very discouraged.”

Soen Roshi replied, “Encourage others.”

January isn’t normally the time to focus on encouragement or thankfulness or appreciation.  Didn’t we just finish that season, after all?

The best time to do this stuff is when nobody expects it.

You know who doesn’t get encouraged?  I mean, other than minority candidates in the Democratic Party.  Offensive linemen: Guard. Tackle. Center. Blockers.  These linemen determine the success of a team.  I’m convinced of that.  Take the New England Patriots, for example.  New England’s Tom Brady is considered the greatest QB of all time these days.  He’s a great player, I agree.  BUT—that O-line was always fantastic for him. Consider his replacements:

• In 2008, he was injured right away and missed the entire season.  A man named Matt Cassel took over.  He led the Patriots to a 11-5 season, ranked 9th best in the NFL (just below Drew Brees). Kansas City’s team thought that showed promise.  He was a far different player without the Patriots’ offensive line.  He ranked dead last.
• When Brady got suspended in 2016, the job fell to Jimmy Garoppolo, a 24-year-old 3rd round pick from Eastern Illinois in his 3rd year.  Garoppolo was the best QB in the NFL by week 2.
• Another injury (to Garoppolo) landed Jacoby Brissett, a rookie, in the position.  He muddled through with almost no experience in the 3rd game (ranked 11th).  He was injured in week 4, and was traded to Indianapolis, where he was a back-up until this season.
• We learned that things change without a strong line this year in New England.  The QB protection was weakened from injuries.  They heard about it all year.  In fact, the Patriot O-line didn’t get anything from Tom Brady for Christmas this year.  Really. 

Stay classy, Tom.

My beloved, often-ignored, cheating, conniving, wonderful, fun-to-watch Seahawks are in the playoffs again.  As a bonus, they brought back one of the favorite Seahawks of all time: Marshawn Lynch.  They beat the Philadelphia Eagles last weekend, and suddenly it seems like things might...fly...their way.  (Ha!)  One key play appeared to define the entire game.  Here’s the play that seemed to give the Seattle Seahawks a lead & a playoff win over the Eagles.  As the announcers tell you, Marshawn Lynch (a.k.a., Beast Mode) POUNDS the ball into the endzone. 

("Bye, Philecia.")

Or did he?  There’s another guy with a part, as well.  His name is D. J. Fluker.  He plays offensive guard for the 'Hawks.  He’s an...offensive lineman.  Check his stats on ESPN, where his entire career boils down to the two tackles he made (after turnovers, I assume).  You don’t hear about O-line folks unless they get flagged for holding or false starts (or they get stuck in a “smart car”).  When you’re bad, you get named.  When you’re good, the others get named…you know, those in the “skill positions.” 

Q: Who came up with that bonehead term??

A: Same guy (a MAN, I'm sure) who coined "Mid-Major."

We never learn of linemen's backstories, either.  Wide receivers have deep, rich stories, though.  During this same playoff game, I saw a rookie wide receiver’s photo from about age 6, dressed up as Superman.   His biggest trial?  He was drafted in the second round, not the first.

Yeah, that’s why he caught that last pass:  cosplay.  

After the game, they interviewed him.  "How did it feel to blah, blah, blah after the pain of waiting to be drafted, blah, blah…?" 

Here’s a story.

D.J. Fluker was born and raised in the Lower Ninth of the Big Easy.  Hurricane Katrina displaced his family.  You know, like this:

He ended up attending three different high schools in different states. Still, he played at the University of Alabama and got drafted in the first round.  After five seasons, Fluker signed with Seattle, already his third NFL team—another journeyman.  Yet, here he is.  Making something happen and getting very little credit.  Maybe credit on some loser blog or something…

Fluker’s good, and that makes Russell Wilson (position: Quarterback), Marshawn Lynch (position: Beast Mode), and everybody else look good.  We’re all glad to have #24 (Lynch) back in uniform.  He just may be the spark that the Seahawks needed.  I get to buy big bags of Skittles again!

(This will always be my favorite photo of him.)

Doesn’t matter how much I like the guy.  Look again…you only need to see 4 seconds of it.  Freeze it, if you need.

Here.  I'll freeze it for you.  It all hinges on this quick decision by the guard (still photo):

D.J. basically grabs the ball carrier and throws him into the endzone!

How does this play end without Fluker?  Lynch gets stood up and stuffed.  The Seahawks had 19 yards on 17 carries in this game.  Beast Mode needed that help Sunday, and Fluker isn’t getting credit.  Honestly, Mr. Lynch got help throughout his career.  Beautiful.

(I still smile when I see this.)

OK...

I told you that story to get to this story.

Princeton…home of the high & mighty types…has officially noticed the staff.  The university recently exhibited etchings, drawings, and large-scale paintings of “10 workers at Princeton, including people in facilities, dining, grounds maintenance, and security.”  Just look at these!

The exhibit is titled, Lifetimes.  You can see it--an entire life of decent, hard work--in the faces.  It's just incredible to me.  Often, people just need help noticing.  I can't do much more than write a blog.  Still, we humans need to be on the lookout for ways to encourage others.  It's how we stay positive, or refreshed, or sober.

The artist is Mario Moore, who was on a Hodder painting fellowship.  He may have become famous for noticing and encouraging such work and these incredible people.  You know, I’m proud to be married to one of these workers at SFA—

• the people that make things function & work
• the ones that work late, later, and early (if necessary) and
• do those things that everybody thinks “just happen.”  

The paintings show a sense of honor toward these people.  Dr. Jay Thornton, the chair of a large department at SFA, took the time to drop a nice candle and a hand-written Thank-You to each custodial staff member who cleans his building (including Ms. Raqueline).  I still can hardly think of it without tearing up.  We should show that appreciation, too.  I should.

Now is a good time to look around.  It’s January, and early January at that.  The toughest part of the year, my friends.  My mom--who took lunch tickets at an elementary school, among other things--would have been…well…really old now.  January 6 (Epiphany, the 12th Day of Christmas) was and is her birthday.  She made things happen, rarely noticed, with little credit.  Too often, I got the credit.  I’m resolved to give others credit this winter.  Credit for jobs well-done when nobody notices.  Join me.  Call me on it when I miss, which I will. 😄

“The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Pine Log Stoking Fires--Help is on the way!

This is a word cloud created from QEP survey responses.

Being overly political is something that causes me no problems.

But let me tell you what we're doing on these holy acres of Stephen F. Austin State University.

We get accredited through the Southern Association of Colleges & Schools Commission on Colleges (SACSCOC).  We are up for reaffirmation every ten years; the next reaffirmation comes in 2020.  As part of our accreditation, we are supposed to show we know at least some of our issues.  We need to show a "culture of continuous improvement."*  One part of that is the Quality Enhancement Plan, or QEP.  It needs to be BIG.  It needs to come from our data analysis.  It needs to last 5 years, with the idea that whatever we do is going to stick permanently.  Our last QEP was one-point-something million dollars.  We're still hashing out our budgets for this plan.

The process of choosing a topic was transparent and painful (transparently painful?).  It took about 6 months to determine our area of improvement.

Should we work on our students' critical thinking skills?
What about writing?  They're awful at writing.
What about targeted undergraduate research projects?
Information literacy will only get more important.  Why not that?

As things shook out and narrowed, it became clear that we needed to focus on something else to really benefit students: we need to reduce student debt for Lumberjacks.  Our debt ratio is high, and SFA folks are concerned we are sending our graduates out with a heavy burden.

Think about that: SFA put all the standard, easier choices aside to confront the greatest threat to student success.

Recently, the school newspaper reacted to a "Twitterstorm" of discussion regarding this very topic.  It started with one student sending this tweet:

As you can imagine, there were more than a few reactions.  Including the Pine Log's editorial on the issue.  When things move from online to print, you know it's pretty significant.  Yes, I know this issue would have a super-majority on one side of it.  Still, you could sense the anger, the resentment, and the pain this one little tweet uncovered.  140 characters is not enough to dig deep, but grants and debt are sources of insecurity.  These students will head into a world they can only imagine, the only thing they know is that they will start out financially behind.  That 's a tough future to face.

Perhaps the real reason we need to give more financial support comes from the Google advertisement below the article.  We can reduce the debt significantly, I think.  But our graduates' critical thinking and information literacy skills will be tested by ads like this--ads that come as they get notice that their tax refund is withheld or they don't qualify for a home loan due to their student debt.



My guess is they'll do fine.

We just need to give them a fighting chance.

















* They're wrong, really.  What they expect is a culture of continual improvement.

You Have Gas...

Now is no time for games!

It’s been just over a month in the U.S.  Raquel Henley is getting situated in the U.S.—kind of.  There is no textbook for this transition, and my guess is everybody underestimates the scope of differences.  She’s Filipina; she’s quiet.  I introduce her to people, and she remains nearly silent, only speaking to respond.  This is a hybrid of the prototypical Asian woman upbringing and her lingering fear that her English will prove inferior and humiliating.

She’s smarter than I am.  She speaks three languages.  Languages are hard…and very complex.  There are a lot of things I do (we do) that are highly complex activities.  We take them for granted throughout our lives.  If you can learn to see things from an outside perspective, well, that is helpful.  You can never completely disassociate yourself from your own experience, though.

Seeing the world through Ms. Raqueline’s perspective, I’ve come to learn how different and special this place is.  At the beginning of the month, we were in Denton at a reception.  The reception offered horderves…er, hors d’ovres, ummm…appetizers.  We started with a fruit plate.  I offered her a slice of pineapple.  She demurred.  Then she pointed to the cantaloupe and said, “…and what is this?”  She liked it.  She also liked the strawberry I added to her plate.  In fact, the entire buffet consisted of foods she did not know, let alone anything she had eaten.  I’ve never considered a life without strawberries…or BBQ…or tacos.  People live like that??  She baked her first cake (ovens are uncommon).  She uses coupons, had job interviews (scary!), and started a new job today.  Everything is new, it seems.

One key change for Raq involves automobiles.  Raq rides a motorcycle back in the Philippines.  No license required.  It makes sense, when you think about it.  You go from a bicycle to a motorcycle…and then maybe a car.  The average “salary” for a Filipino is about $2500.  An automobile purchase is akin to buying a house in the U.S.

Part of car ownership is purchasing gasoline.  This is a second-nature, almost intrinsic activity for Americans.  Not so much in the Philippines.  Over there, you pull in and tell some worker how much to put into the tank (usually a litre or two for a motorcycle).  “I want you to put the gas in the car.  I’m going to grab a Diet Coke. Here’s the card.  Our ZIP code is 79564.”

OK, I knew that wouldn’t work on its own.  I was trying to force a learning experience on this poor woman.  I’m still not sure if it worked.  When I returned, she was standing near the minivan and smiling.  No gas had left the pump.  So I helped her through this simple, easy, no-brainer process like the incredible educator I am:

1.     Insert your card.  There, in that slot.  Yes.  That’s where it goes.  No, the magnetic…er, brown stripe needs to be down and to the right, like the picture.  Like this.

2.     OK…but you have to pull it back out right away.  Let’s do that again.

3.     (Repeat Steps 1 & 2)

4.     Now you put in our ZIP Code (note to self: tell her what a ZIP Code is). 7-5-9-6-4…OK now push “Enter.”  It’s over here—the green button on the bottom right.

5.     OK…now it’s processing.  While it’s doing that, you lift the pump handle.  Yes, you lift it up.  Oh!  First, you need to open the little door over here.  Then youuuu un-screww this cap, and…bring the pump here and put it into the tank.  Just bring it over, love…OK, good.  Put it there, in that small hole inside the larger hole.  [By this point, I’m feeling sheepish.]

6.     Yeah…that’s good, but you need to choose the type of gas you want.  We always get the cheapest kind…the 87…no, you just push the yellow button.  The left side.  Closest to us.  Yeah.  That one.  Wait…the hose pushed the 93 octane expensive kind.  That’s 50 cents a gallon more.  No.  Just…No.

7.     (Repeat Steps 1-2 and 4-7, taking care to keep the hose away from all yellow buttons.)

8.     Good.  Gas is going in.  Now, if you push this little lever underneath here, you don’t have to hold it the whole time you pump.  Yeah, I guess that notch works. Good job.

9.     Five gallons.  See the bottom one.  The top one is how much; the bottom one is…well, how much…gas is going in.  The top one is the cost, I guess.  OK.  Stop.  Just squeeze the pump.  No.  You squeeze it and the little lever-thing releases…er, lets go.  (Demonstrate)

10.  Now you put the pump back in the slot where it came from.  No.  Just put it back.  It has a flap that turns off the pump.  Just…yeah.  There.

11.  Now we wait for the receipt.  Oh, and we need to put the cap back on and close this little door back.  OK.  Just pull on it.  Yank on it.  Harder.  Good.

12.  We’re done! 

Easy, right?

I'm not even going to try getting gas at Kroger yet.  That's a whole other process with the discount card.  Ugh.

It’s one thing to move from, say, England to the U.S. (or Canada…or even a place like Germany).  Pumping gas is a part of life there, too.  It’s what life is like when people can afford cars.  There are places people come from that are far different.  Pretty much the only thing we have in common is that we are both from Planet Earth (and some English).

Such a brave woman to come here.  If you haven’t met her yet, just know she starts every morning rocked back on her heels and regains her balance throughout the day.  It’s fantastic to watch.  I just need to keep my ethno-centric assumptions from ruining these discoveries she’s having—not just every day, but every hour.

The Death of the Lonely Gringo?

                                          Marina Keegan

This is and will be an eventful week.

Having my eldest daughter in Nacogdoches has been quite the blessing.  Now, when I say something to myself, I'm not alone.  I prefer these problems to my prior problems!

Miss Victoria begins her second week of classes Monday.  It's not just class.  It's class, tutorials, study sessions, work, and home stuff.  Her days are long, since she works at the local Japanese restaurant.  We don't have a Wendy's, a Home Depot, or a Target...yet we have a Japanese restaurant, a Hallmark Store, and ready access to Merle Norman Cosmetics.

Tori and I reworked the back porch.  We strung lights and cleaned it up.  Having someone else in the household keeps a person more focused on household things.  You have a second set of eyes (or third, or fourth…) to notice things that need improvement.  As of today, it looks like a nice place to hang out & discuss life.  It's more than that, though.

We’re getting the house ready for an arrival.

On Saturday, Mrs. Henley picked up her visa from the courier.  Two days later, she had the Philippines stamp her visa, allowing her to emigrate.  After all, you have to emigrate before you immigrate.  

It looks as though we are almost finished and ready to make that giant move.

She just needs one…more…stamp…

So here’s the plan. I’d call it Plan B, but that letter was gone months ago.  We may have run out of letters by now.

• On September 7 at 12:40 p.m. (Manila Time) my wife will board a plane on EVA Airlines.
• She will fly to Taipei and experience a 7-hour layover.                                
• She will board a second flight, ending in Houston, Texas at 11:50 p.m. on Friday, September 7.
• She will encounter the Port of Entry with her sealed packet from the embassy.
• She will have her visa stamped and enter the United States as a legal permanent resident.
• She will find me waiting for her.

At every point in this grueling, costly process, we have encountered issues.  Some of those have been our fault; others involve rules that don’t seem to be listed anywhere.  The POE should be a formality, but those women and men work for Customs and Border Patrol.  They’re hired and trained to be suspicious.  I know that directly, from my U.S.-Mexico travels and returns.  

As our President says, "We will see what happens." We can do the things listed above (if allowed).  The rest is up to God. I’m okay with that.

--------------

This week also marks the SECOND Labor Day I do NOT have off.  

There is no Labor Day in Hell.

Remember that (alala ba).

Not Heard: "Your Visa Is Approved"

Lorenzo Quinn's Hand of God.  Find more here.

My daughter is moving in with me!  That’s right.  Miss Victoria A. Henley will be attending Stephen F. Austin StateUniversity this month.  “The Estate” will be her domicile for that new beginning.  If you wonder who she is, perhaps this post will give you perspective.  Or maybe this.  Who knows?

I’m saying this because I “met” a young woman who brought out my “dad” instincts today.  This was U.S. Embassy day in the Henley “household.”  The day we would/could/should get  approved for a CR-1 visa for Mrs. Henley.  After a rough start to the day, we jumped into the cattle call of the final frontier of the process.  It went very well…until someone compared names on documents.  Who does that??!!!!???!!!

"On the next episode of Paul Screws Up..."

In 100 attempts, I would have caught this (maybe) 3 times.  It should worry you that my job entails accreditation and assessment.  Turns out I am very capable of overlooking things.  Ms. Raqueline just returned from fixing the mistakes, and we will get the fixed one tomorrow.  Then we will upload the new document to some website or give it to a courier or fold it into a paper airplane and launch it at the Ambassador.  I don’t know, really.  I'm not sure of my skills right now.  We have a slip of paper AND an email, so who knows what’s next?

THIS IS FRUSTRATING!!!!!!!

The form in question is the “proof” that Raquel was never married.  I get it; that’s important.  HOWEVER—

• We needed this documentation just to get married.
• We needed this documentation to pass the “border patrol” portion of the process.
• We needed this documentation with the State Department before the Embassy got involved.

So…the fourth iteration of this might not be correct?  Because her PARENTS names are different in this version????

Thanks for protecting me—just like the Japanese government protected me from my own toothpaste on the way through Tokyo.  Passed the U.S. TSA…but Japan knows that the extra ounce-or-whatever will EXPLODE.

In both cases, I am soooooo grateful for government protection from myself. 

I’m not as bitter about this as I could be—or might have been, though.  In the midst of the process, I was given the gift of perspective.

I might have taken a picture of her.  She was relatively attractive (not Raquel standard, but still good-looking).  She was about the age of my oldest daughter (Victoria).  She was interviewing to get a K-1 (fiancée) visa.  I know this because the U.S. Embassy in Manila uses an intercom system to communicate: the interviewer is behind bullet-proof glass; the interviewee/victim is facing away from the seated folks waiting their turn.  Imagine going to a drive-thru bank and just standing and listening to the interview questions—then you infer her answers.  You can’t “not hear” such stimuli, and it put things in perspective for me.  Near as I can tell, the following points are true.

• She hadn’t known the guy all that long.
• She knew his basic information.
• He had come to visit, and she seemed to have pictures.
• Her fiancée didn’t have any arrests.
• He had children, but he didn’t see them.
• She had one child of her own.

After a little while of some back-and-forth, the interviewer re-phrased his questions.  So you are saying you have no knowledge of any arrests for your fiancée?  Is that it?

She nodded.  I could sense where this was going (so can you).

I must inform you that in September 2016, your fiancée was arrested for domestic violence.  Do you know what that means?  He was arrested for beating his wife.  This is in 2016, also, so it’s recent.  I need to also tell you that a court found him to be a threat to his wife and his children so that he is not allowed to see his children.  He has a restraining order against him, which means that he cannot come in contact with his wife or his children.  That’s why he doesn’t know much about his children.

Now, knowing this information, do you still want to move forward with the fiancée visa process?

Short, fast, quick nodding for about .4 seconds.

OK, so you want to move forward knowing that your fiancée has been convicted of beating his wife.  Recently.  Is that correct?

More nods…this time a little larger.

OK, I must also inform you that if you feel threatened at any point, you need to dial 911, and the police will come and protect you.  They won’t take your visa away because you called 911.  Do you understand that?

More nods…ugh.

Her visa was held up for some “unrelated” reason—one similar to ours.  I’m hoping the folks at the embassy do this to delay her decision.

I get it.  If you say “No, I don’t want to continue” then that’s it.  You’re out of options.  It seems that (even in this circumstance) the prudent thing to do is keep your options open…to see if there could be some way it could work.

…but what an awful thing to discover at that point…

I wanted to reach out, but I knew an older American wouldn’t sway her opinion or decision.  Plus, the embassy deals with this daily.  It would be like going to a police station to lecture women about domestic violence as a “Self-Appointed Expert.”  At some point, you’re just a loudmouth with an opinion.  This was past that point.

Perspective is soooo important.  I was “#blessed” to be given that perspective today, of all days.  Expectations lead to resentment.  I’m working HARD to not expect stuff.  When I do that, I am pleasantly surprised quite often…and disappointed much less.  It might still work.  Perhaps a tourist visa or something.

There could be a quick turnaround, and we could jet off to Houston to experience the unexpected world we will inhabit together.

My guess is Raq’s visa will be available about 24-48 hours after the plane to Houston takes off in Manila.  I likely will be on that plane…alone…again.  I will go back to a clean house (thanks to Miss Victoria Henley) and prepare to start the academic year.  I will look for an opportunity to bring my wife to America; I will take the first real one I get.

You Deserve an Update, Part II

(I love being on her Facebook profile pic.)

Almost exactly two years ago, I was sleeping in a pickup.  The pickup wasn't mine; it belonged to my father.  My father has Alzheimer's Disease with dementia, and he spends his days in a nursing home now.  My brother was telling me I needed to return the pickup.  My children wanted nothing to do with me, and my ex-wife was more than willing to let me know as much.

Honestly, until my physician wrote me a prescription for some much-needed medication, I was useless to the world.  An accident with a drunk driver damaged my brain...my brain...what am I without THAT??  One key malady of a good, hard concussion is depression.  Boy, howdy!  I thought I had experienced depression until this.  It's been awful, too awful to describe.  My mind finally cleared (sort of) in April 2017.  I still have issues at times (like a lonely Christmas), but I survive better now.

I was in the parking lot of some public park on Lake Georgetown.  Unemployed, poor, damaged, homeless, useless.  For some reason I still had a working phone.  I managed to keep that constant.  But there is nobody...nobody...who wanted to talk to me.  Over 7 billion people in the world, and I was very, very alone.  Typing this makes me revisit those feelings, so I need to move through this part a little quickly.

That night I thought about killing myself, which made it similar to most other nights.  I was ready, except I wasn't sure whether anybody would claim my body.  Whom would they tell?  Yikes, that's alone.  Nobody cared at all.

Then my phone dinged.  "Hello, sir."  It was this strange and beautiful woman from the Philippines.  We had been chatting off and on.  I needed it to be on that night.  She thought I was worth communication.  I found myself chatting with her for long enough to forget I didn't want to live.  At one point, I remember saying something like, "You know, if I ever get out of this mess...you've hit the jackpot here."  Although the timing of everything surprised me as much as those around me, I made a commitment to try to marry her that night.

When there is only one person in the world that wants to talk to you...you don't care why.  It doesn't matter.  That person is the most important person in the world.  That person IS your world.

As time went on, I realized what a treasure I had found.  She can speak 3 languages: she's smarter than me.  Period.  She's more beautiful in three dimensions, too!  She has an honest (sometimes patient) sense of humor.  She works very hard, and she lives on very little.  She's a strong woman; don't let the 92 pound, 4'11" frame fool you.  She has three fantastic kids...and that family!  Just one big group of open, loving people.  Immediate acceptance.  Boom!  The Philippines is my happy place, for sure.

People have wondered aloud to me:

           "I think she was just looking for a husband." (She found one.  Lucky me!)
           "Doesn't she have, like, 2 or 3 kids?" (Didn't I lose, like, 2 or 3 kids?)
           "She just wants you for the citizenship." (I don't think so, but I wouldn't care. *See above*)
           "She's gonna take everything you have!" (She's leaving everything she knows...to be with me.)

It's been a long, arduous, expensive, painful process.  Life offers no guarantees--I know that now.  Hell, I live that now.  Still, I have a plan, even if I don't control the outcome:

In three weeks, I will board a plane (killing off two airline miles accounts from a previous life).  I drive to Austin, fly to San Diego (where I will spend the night in the airport), fly to Tokyo, and fly to Manila.  Then, on August 7, 2018 we have an interview appointment at the United States Embassy in Manila.  If all goes well (no guarantees), then on August 15 we will board a plane in Manila--together.  We will fly from Manila to Taipei (Say it with me: TAIWAN!).  We have a 7 hour layover; then we arrive in the United States...specifically, in Houston.

Yep.  Leave from Austin, return to Houston.  Nothing's easy.  But watch!  It'll happen, somehow.  God-willing, it will.  Weird stuff happens now.  It's the flip-side of surrendering control (like you had any!).

And it won't be easy after August 15, either.  I've learned that there is no "easy" in life: you trade one set of problems (joys) for another set of problems (joys).  It's possible that even more people will live in this little crackerbox house in the fall.  Who knows?  God, not Paul.  I'm finally cool with that.