Knocking items off our epic to-do list

Off to open a cross-border bank account today, so that we can hire a Realtor to find us a house to move ourselves and our belongings to.

I wish it were within our budget -- time and money -- to send one or both of us to St. John's for a week of reconnaissance and find a house. But we don't have a week, and we don't have the liquidity nor Canadian credit history to just up and buy a house. So we're going to rent for a while and take our sweet time to find our permanent home.

The sooner we get an address in Canada, the sooner we can firm everything up with our movers, and the sooner we'll have a firm departure date. Right now, it's nebulously "sometime mid-October," which I have to keep reminding myself is two months away.

Should you hire an immigration lawyer? (Yes.)

Dropped the mister's first round of immigration paperwork at the post office earlier this week. To keep in touch with this blog's focus on penny-pinching, let's talk about any steps I've been taking to try to save money in this process.

-crickets-

Hrm.

I'm not sure I can recommend any.

The biggest question is probably whether one should hire a lawyer. We actually did. We had an in-person consultation and then an extended phone call with a Canadian immigration lawyer. She helped clarify my status under Bill C-37, and she gave us a road map for the process.

Since our consultations, though, it's been D.I.Y. for us. While I don't think that's the best move for everyone, I chose it for us for a few reasons:

1. I'm a native speaker of one of the official languages of our destination country. Seems obvious, but no joke. I spent a lot of (my parents') money learning a foreign language in college, but there is no way I'd be doing this on my own if I couldn't do it in English.
   
2. I'm not actually immigrating, myself. Since it's just the mister I'm seeking to bring in legally, our case is a little streamlined.
   
3. I'm already a lawyer, and in a legal system very similar to Canada's. I'm in no way qualified to advise anybody else on their Canadian immigration matters (or any other Canadian legal matters). But the Canadian and U.S. systems, outside of Québec and Louisiana, evolved from the same starting point. So where I don't know the specifics, I can make a very good guess as to where I need to look to find them.
   
4. To that point, Canada's immigration paradigm kind of closely follows that of the U.S. That is, there are a lot of statuses, visas, and categories on one side of the border that correspond to statuses, visas, and categories on the other side, though with different names (student visa versus study permit, for example). What don't match are the i's that must be dotted and t's that must be crossed.
   
5. And so the devil is in the details -- while at the same time, I have to keep in mind the scope of the project and our overall goals. Luckily, this is pretty much the definition of the transactional lawyering I do for a living. Honestly, this project doesn't seem hugely different from my bread-and-butter work.
   
6. We all know the line, though, about how a lawyer who represents herself has a fool for a client. One reason why we talked to a lawyer about my status under Bill C-37 was that I'd blown my deadline (under the old law) to file my paperwork. This week, I was about to mail off the mister's application packet when I thought, you know, maybe I should check the online instructions again, first. And I found that we were using 2 outdated forms, and we'd blown the deadline for using these older forms. By 9 days. Oops. An actual Canadian immigration lawyer would have known about the issue of the new forms and either informed us of the change or handled it as part of their work for us.
   
7. The amount we're not paying the Canadian lawyer we've previously spoken to is only a little bit under the amount we'll be paying our moving company. While neither price is as high as I'd expected or feared, it's nice to sort of pay the movers with money we would otherwise have budgeted for legal services.

Good thing, since I signed the paperwork for the movers yesterday.

But that's just us. Not hiring a lawyer has worked for us, so far. A good lawyer will tell you that you should hire one yourself for something as big as immigrating to a new country. I will, too. We've balanced a bunch of factors here and made our decision. I really hope we're not being "penny wise, pound foolish," though, and I wouldn't tell anybody else to go this way.

Movin' out, and another transition

We've got some changes happening here at the homestead.

The household teen has finished high school, and in another month or so he'll be starting university on the other side of the continent. To get his life in order, he's downsized himself out of my place and moved out to live with his dad in South Philadelphia. Big change!

And the other big change: I'm closing up, selling out, pulling up roots, and moving to Canada. St. John's, Newfoundland and Labrador, to be precise.

Oh, and third? At some point between today and the last post here on the blog way back in 2015, I got hitched. So I'll be taking the mister with me to St. John's when I fly the coop.

And so I guess I'll spend some time blogging about the move between now and the big day this autumn.

I've moved about a dozen times since I turned 18, including dorm and apartment moves during my undergrad days. During these moves I've accumulated what I fondly call my "boxes of doom." These are boxes of trinkets, memorabilia, small items that nobody else wanted to keep from my grandmother's house (if you're keeping score at home, that clean-out was 2 moves and 13 years ago). Figurines from Red Rose tea boxes, a 100-year-old autograph book, unfinished books of ration stamps from the Second World War, half-filled quad-rule comp books. I have 3 bankers box-size boxes of doom now, or let's say 5 if you include the loose contents of the credenza by the kitchen, the boxes neatly stashed in my own special "out of sight, out of mind" way in my bedroom closet.

I don't like going through these boxes because honestly the only thing to do with all these items is to landfill them. That kind of really hurts my hippie heart, you know? But the items aren't any good for a museum. They don't hold any meaning to anybody else. They have no resale value, so I'd be doing my favorite charity thrift store no favors if I "donated" them.

I remember my grandmother saying she didn't like to throw things out because she feared forgetting the circumstances surrounding the things. I think I'll put myself as having maybe 20% of that when it comes to sorting through my stuff. Whatever the percentage, it ain't helping.

We got an estimate on Thursday for professional movers, and the cost would be about half of what I was anticipating I'd have to budget. The deal is calculated for a minimum weight, along the same deal as a 2-drink minimum: we pay for this minimum weight, even if what we take ends up weighing less. Which we will, because we're leaving (selling/donating/freecycling) just about all of our furniture here.

The estimate is not helping me feel motivated to open up my boxes of doom and take care of these items once and for all.