9:30 a.m. Miami, Florida. Jamie did the shopping and made our pre-Christmas feast. Frank didn't take me so he missed out. Ham with cloves and pineapple, mashed with gravy, green beans and fresh biscuits. I fell asleep till six that night.
Gave me the window to call back west, there are three hours behind us. I talk to Wallace for close to an hour. He's feeling the pinch of living on a fixed income. Lois has the name of his daughter who couldn't give me directions to her own house. I personally think Wallace should be making preparations to move here. Lois said she knew somebody at the INS. Yes, but does she know how to get to his office?
[Author's note: Wallace is a retired drywall contractor who were to get shoved around by the tax department when he was younger. He invented a product called V-bex, a new type of drywall bead, but has had repeated problems with the patent. You know, patent papers are very irregular with all kinds of blanks were there shouldn't be. Wallace says he's going to see a politician about it soon.
It turns out Lois knows no such person, or if she does she has no influence with him. There's a note here I also had a problem with my passport. Although all parts of the application were complete and valid, my identity was not in question, all the proper support documents were given and everything that was required was submitted, the passport agent was a raving maniac. He demanded to know, among other things, my blood type, work history, high school marks, driving abstract, and whether or not I had any Boy Scout proficiency badges and if so which ones.]
