Driving Miss Haggis

I finally am driving legally. Just between you and me, my old DC license expired in March. Nothing I could do about it because where was I going in March? The DMV? But now that I'm out and about a little bit, driving my child around, having a valid license has become a wee bit of a priority.

Which led me to the DMV yesterday. My doctor said to go, but avoid crowds (huh?!), anyone who looks unwell (huh?!), and try to keep it brief (okay, now you're just being ridiculous...). I took my mask and gloves along just in case. Luckily this particular DMV is in a rundown strip mall. It looks like the state bought out one of those organ stores from the 1980's plus a Spencer Gifts and converted them into the DMV. Which worked out perfectly, because I just avoided the whole "inside the store" seating areas where The Great Unwashed were hanging out and instead stood around in the mall, in between the Tobacco Shed and the Scrubs For Less stores. I just kept checking back to see that my number wasn't getting close (it wasn't getting close), and then went back to my little self-contained area near the two stores guaranteed to have no customers. It was a tossup between them and the little Massachusetts Souvenirs rolling cart, but I opted for the larger square footage for safety's sake.

During my hour wait for my number to be called I pondered why a souvenir store would be in a crappy strip mall near a DMV. What is this guy's business model? Oh, like all the Boston tourists will be FLOCKING to this rundown semi-suburban strip mall (that is so rundown they had to hang one of those big plastic signs saying "Mall Entrance" over the door so you'd know where to walk in)! And while the tourists are buying their work uniforms for $9.99 they'll want that lobster keychain! Or-hey--all those people who currently live in Massachusetts as evidenced by their presence at the DMV--what better market for tourist paraphernalia!? Because there's nothing I love more than coming home with a new license--and a Big Papi T-shirt. The final assessment is that the owner is trying to lose money for tax purposes. There can be no other explanation.

When my number was getting close I ran through my game plan in my head: Jedi Mind Tricks. These aren't the droids you're looking for. These absolutely are the right documents. You are not going to give me a hard time. You will be bowled over by the exceedingly polite and friendly person meeting you at your window. You are not going to make me come back here--because I am now approaching my mental limit of how long I can stand here in this sea of people without wigging.

My number came up. And I got a nice man. I don't think it hurts to approach the DMV person at his window with a Good Morning and a How Are You Today, since I assume they get lots of crap from people who are pissed they've waited an hour to even be seen. But luckily he was nice and had me on my way in 10 minutes flat. Albeit with a craptacular photo, but I truly, truly don't care. A few years ago, a bad ID photo would have sent me reeling. Today, I'm just happy to be standing up for a photo, so I couldn't care less. And besides, do you really go to the DMV with the assumption that it's a Glamour Shots appointment? It's a damn ID photo. Which never looks like you anyway, for good OR for bad. So when he showed me the computer-generated photo (which always makes your face look longer and weirder), I just shrugged and said, "Ah. It does the job. Good enough." Just get me out of this germhole, dude!!

So I got my license and went on my way to pick up Bambina at preschool. On the way out we ran into our old rabbi, the one who married the BBDD and I. I introduced Bambina to him, told her that he is the man in the wedding pictures, and mentioned on our way to the car that he is married to a rabbi too. (I'm always doing my "girls can do anything!" thing, aren't I?) She thought that was cool. She asked why he had no hair and I told her that it had been a very long time since I'd seen him, so long that the last time I'd seen him he'd had plenty of hair, so the no-hair was news to me too. To move the topic along I said that they had, maybe 6 kids I thought. She said, "That's a lot of kids!" I said that some families are big and some are small; it all depends what you like. She then said "I want eighty children when I'm older." Eighty?!! That's a lot of kids, my love. "I want eighty." Okay! Good for you! And then her follow up?

"And I want to be married two times."

To the same person? Or to different people? "Oh, different people. Two different people. Two times. Maybe a rabbi."

I had to stop the car I was laughing so hard. But the good news is that if I'd been caught for my illegal stop, I had a legal license to show for it.