I Heart the DMV!

Round 1

DMV Bitch: Next in line!

Me: I need a license and registration.

DMVB: (handing me two forms, a clipboard, but no pen) Is your car parked in the front lot? You need to go around the side for vehicle verification.

Me: Ok... (Go outside, drive around, get another form from the car verifier lady, go back inside.)

Round 2

Me: (handing the DMVB my verification form)

DMVB: Where are the rest of them?

Me: I didn't finish them yet.

DMVB: I need all three.

Me: (sitting down with the hordes, only to see that question number 8,459,922 is "List the current mileage of your vehicle; go back out to the car and note mileage; call Jeremy to answer question 9,445,899: "List the purchase price of the vehicle." Leave question 9,889,656 intentionally blank: "How much sales tax was paid on this vehicle?" Cross my fingers and hope for the best.)

Round 3

DMBV (to another customer): I'm only trying to make sure you have everything so you don't wait in the big line and find out you can't do what you need to do. That's what this desk is for."

Other customer: (takes papers and leaves unhappily)

Me: (handing DMVB my completed papers)

DMVB: Registration card?

Me: Yes! (handing it over)

DMVB: License?

Me: Yes! (ditto)

DMVB: Passport, birth certificate, and marriage license?

Me: (crestfallen) I didn't bring any of those things.

DMVB: You can't get your license, but do you still want to wait and get your registration?

Me: Hmmm, let me think. Do I want to stand in the long-ass line for a couple of hours only to partially complete the chores I came here to do? And then come back on another day and stand in the same fucking line again? No, I don't think I'd like to do that.

(I didn't really say that, of course. I just said no, took my papers and left. Called Jeremy and cried. Went to the car and cried some more. And then waited until I'd cooled off to start driving back to my mom's, where my parents were watching the girls yet again.)

Mostly I am mad at myself, because it's my own fault for not having everything I needed. (Although, why do they need my marriage license to let me drive a car?) But I'm also mad at the DMV Bitch, because if her job is to prevent me from wasting my time why didn't she tell me I needed all that shit the first time I walked up to her? I still would have been pissed, but at least I wouldn't have wasted both of our time.

Yay! California is just so much fun sometimes I can't even stand it.
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Today

Outside my window... darkness, and in the distance fireworks at Sea World.

I am thinking... about dirty flip flop feet and BPA-free water bottles.

I am thankful for... living close to my parents and in-laws. Kendra being done with chemo.

From the kitchen... yogurt and fruit for lunch, brought Jeremy's version of my mom's famous Sombrosas for a cookout at the marine lab for dinner.

I am wearing... new UCLA t-shirt, Melissa's hand-me-down cargo pants, no shoes, just took out a bun I've been wearing for 24 hours.

I am creating...this post! a new life in California.

I am going...to bed, once I get Chelsea in her bed.

I am reading...magazines my mother-in-law brought me from the library.

I am hoping... that I can start posting more photos now that I have a better computer.

I am hearing... traffic from Mission Gorge Road. Chelsea whispering to me from her doorway: "Mommy, I'm having scary dreams." (Even though she hasn't fallen asleep yet. Faker.)

Around the house... boxes, boxes, everywhere! but cleaner than it was this morning.

One of my favorite things... during the cookout, Savannah was chasing a little boy and repeatedly trying to hug him. He shrugged her off and then turned and hugged Chelsea.

A few plans for the rest of the week... Target on Thursday (baby wipes), German storytime on Friday, and Wicked with the grandmas on Saturday. Nice!

Thanks to Robyn for the format of this post.
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Only in LA

Linda and I drove up to LA with Peter on Sunday, to visit Kendra and give Brenda some much-needed downtime. We all stayed overnight and the next morning in the hotel breakfast room an older gentleman asked if he could join our table.

Brenda has mastered the art of talking easily with strangers and quickly got the man talking about his life and livelihood as a glassblower in Las Vegas.

Then, out of nowhere, he says: "And I was on the Ed Sullivan Show with the Beatles."

He explained how he'd been part of a unicycle duo and they'd been booked for the same night. He told us that the Beatles were terrified of American girls, who threw their petticoats and underpants at the band. He said one girl even went so far as to remove her bra, stuff the lining with nickels, and hurl it at the stage from the 9th row, over the heads of all the other girls, landing it on Ringo's cymbals.

The day after the show, he continued, he and his partner were invited up to the Beatles' room to help them understand and deal with these wild American girls. While there, a large box was delivered and out popped (can you guess?) a wild American girl!

At this point in the story, the man suddenly announced that he needed to get back to his wife who was still in their room. He held up his Danish and said, "She loves these. I'm not even supposed to be eating them; I'm diabetic."

After he'd left, Linda and Brenda began to discuss the amazing story he'd told.

And I said, "I'm not buying it." (Which is pretty ironic because usually I am ridiculously gullible and Jeremy is the hardcore skeptic in the family.)

Brenda was determined to uncover the truth and started scouring Google.

And here's what she found:

Yep. That's Paul on our glassblower's unicycle. And Don (the future glassblower and renegade Danish-eater) is the shaggy-haired dude on the far right.

Huh.

Guess I need to hang out in LA more often.
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Sick Day Conversation

Chelsea has a scratch on the outside edge of her nostril from when her face accidentally collided with her father's fingernail the other day.

It is severely hindering her nose-picking, which is one of her top three hobbies these days (right after playing with trains and coloring pictures of trains).

She's not feeling well today, so I was lying down with her as she was settling down for a nap. She told me that her nose was hurting.

Me: Leave it alone. It'll get better faster that way.

Chelsea: But I can't reach inside it!

Me: Reach inside tiger's nose instead. (Tiger is her stuffed lovey.)

Her: Tiger doesn't have a nose!

Me: TIGER DOESN'T HAVE A NOSE?!

Her: Well, she has this kind of nose, but she doesn't have any pokes. (Pointing to tiger's nose and then my nostrils.)

Me: Nostrils.

Her: Yeah.

Me: Poor tiger! How does she breathe without any nostrils?

Her: She's not a real tiger. She just... she's just like... she's made of fuff!

There's no point to this story except that pokes and fuff are my new favorite words.
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