The pens are on the table behind you, honey

tulips from my friend, who also happens to be our babysitter

Today I took a late lunch break and went to the DMV to get my name changed on my license.  For something that is making me feel so happy and relieved, I sure did take my sweet damn time getting to it. 

Anyway – at the DMV when you walk in, there’s a desk where you have to start.  The woman who was running that desk all alone was cracking me up with her red beanie pulled down low and her sunglasses and her plastic gloves.  She was managing two lines of cranky DMV customers, telling us what to do and where to go, and how if we came up to the front of HER LINE and we were on a cell phone we were SOL, because she wasn’t gonna help anyone who didn’t have the manners to get off of the phone.  I liked her right away, and took a seat near her desk so I could listen to her talk while I waited.  Several times she made everyone laugh, but I think my favorite was this statement: Son, you don’t have your MOMMY sign this form!   You’re EIGHTEEN!  You’re a MAN!  MOMMY DON’T NEED TO SIGN FOR YOU!

I wasn’t expecting to have to have my photo taken (you’d think I’d catch on to this shit after being a DMV customer for 23 years) so of course I had to.  I looked awful; was up early to work this morning so I could take the boys to the dentist from 9 till 10, and had my hair in a janky ponytail, hardly any makeup on.  The only good part was that I had on a Superhero necklace.  So now next time I see Andrea, I can flash my California driver’s license and prove to her what a true fangirl I am.

Tomorrow or maybe Saturday I’m making this.  When the going gets tough, the tough cook, right?

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