Today is Stefanee Tenorio's birthday. I'm so happy for her. She got a job as a telemarketer yesterday, bless her soul. She's 18 years old. It's funny, because she is the youngest of our group. I'll be 19 in less than a month, so I'm slightly excited.

But anyhow, when I meant funeral, I meant of my husband and I's hopes and dreams.

Tomorrow is the interview with immigration..which, if he passes, means he gets his papers and social security number. Also, he right away gets his temporary working papers. Which means...we move out of his no good mother's house and into a little place of our own-which would be fantastic. I mean, I'm not too nervous, because our relationship is real, but I'm afraid that I'll answer one of the questions on money or taxes wrong. Because...Polly filed my taxes. I mean, I have the papers, thank god, so I know everything, but I'm more or less I'm afraid I'll forget something, and mess up Corey's chance of ever getting out of his mom's house. And that's superbad for me, cause I'll never get out of here, either, and I'll have to hear it from his mom, and his uncle...and all of those people. I'll feel horrible. But, I guess that I'm good to go, cause I know most everything.

But Litty, Anny, and Corey...also, surprisingly, Polly, have all told me it was going to be fine. Litty made me feel better the most, since I burst into tears in front of her out of stress and she comfortingly caressed my leg like a mother and told me "Mira, Chelsea, don't cry everything will be alright...don't cry."

I felt better after that. The next two days she was here, she was comforting me, and making me feel part of the family.

We'll be fine, I'm sure.

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