I got a letter from the DMV a few days ago. It said that effective November 01, 2010, my license was reinstated. What . . . what.....WHAT??? There are so many things wrong with this, I don't know where to start.
They didn't make me take the test when I went to the DMV two weeks ago. I paid my $125 fine, and then another $25 to change my name back to the one on my birth certificate. I stood there in front of the DMV staffer who typed and typed into her computer. I got nervous. What if something went wrong? What if she told me, sorry, no dice? But she just printed out an interim license, had me sign it, and pointed me to where I could have my picture taken. And I almost blurted out, "Don't I have to take the test?" I had crammed for it the last couple of days. I had learned about crazy new driving stuff, like ten and two was no longer the preferred hand position on the steering wheel (it's now nine and three or even eight and four--eight and four? Seems like a lazy driver's hand position). I learned my lesson about offering unnecessary information at the pound, though, so I walked over to the photographer. Gave him a goofy smile. He flashed his camera and said I'd have my permanent license in about four weeks.
And that was it. 30 minutes, tops. I walked to the parking lot, where my kids and stepmother waited. Then we went to Judi's, where she handed me the car keys.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Saturday, April 2, 2011
The 52nd Week
I have an appointment at 8:25 a.m. at the DMV on Friday. I took the day off work. And so I head into the last week of this long year.
Eight more bus rides.
I was going to write something about all things I'm looking forward to being able to do again, but it seems more appropriate to review all the things I was able to do.
I rode the bus to work, my friends' houses, AA meetings, doctors' appointments, the movies and and the golf course. I took cabs or hired a car service to take the kids to the dentist and once to the beach. The kids and I took buses downtown and to W's fencing practice every Saturday. We rode our bikes to the pool, to get Saturday morning bagels, and to buy Halloween costumes. I rode my bike with my Dad to the beach one day.
I hitched rides from so many friends. Thank you to Kymberli, Robin, Christina, Sonita, Desiree, Lisa, Gail and Amber who all cheerfully picked me up as I trudged home from the bus, or amiably agreed to take me and my groceries home when I ambushed them at our local grocery store. To Casie and Linda and Paula and Meka who took me to and from AA meetings when I would have stayed in bed. To Renee and Mike who gave me rides home from work. To Cindy who gave me rides to work and to Target. To my kids' dad, who uncomplainingly shouldered a great deal more of carpooling and kid activity than would have otherwise been necessary; he even took me grocery shopping sometimes. To my father and stepmother, who would pretty much pick me up anywhere at anytime, despite whether it involved my boys screaming in the back seat. And of course to Judi, who took care of my car and made sure my kids got to school fed and in one piece.
I walked A LOT. At least 5 miles a week. To the bus stop certainly, but also the hair stylist, the pedicurist, the grocery store.
I've chatted with a lot of strangers. I've met some interesting people. The recovering meth addict who was sometimes my driver from the car service who asked for relationship advice. The guy on the bus with ostrich skin boots who told me where to get them in Mexico and then made all the white people uncomfortable by yelling, "Get me off this motherfuckin' slave ship"; the guy from my DUI class who was writing a history of the Stewart clan from Scotland; the young woman from my DUI class who wasn't even 21 and despite her DUI got a job selling luxury cars. There was a homeless woman at the trolley stop one day who told me she was a week away from collecting on a $2.5 million personal injury settlement. A Sean Connery look-alike gave me advice on gelato shops on the bus one afternoon. Young gangsta-wannabe teenaged boys politely offered me their seats more times than I can count.
I didn't cry or feel sorry for myself quite as often as I thought I would, but I did sometimes. The Boyfriend did an amazing job keeping my spirits up.
I didn't drink. Jury's still out on the nasty cigarette habit. Sometimes I had to get in bed and watch marathons of House or Criminal Minds to get through.
I didn't drive.
I don't feel as if I've done anything amazing. You would've been able to manage this too. What I feel, at the end of the day, is lucky, and enormously grateful and humbled.
Eight more bus rides.
I was going to write something about all things I'm looking forward to being able to do again, but it seems more appropriate to review all the things I was able to do.
I rode the bus to work, my friends' houses, AA meetings, doctors' appointments, the movies and and the golf course. I took cabs or hired a car service to take the kids to the dentist and once to the beach. The kids and I took buses downtown and to W's fencing practice every Saturday. We rode our bikes to the pool, to get Saturday morning bagels, and to buy Halloween costumes. I rode my bike with my Dad to the beach one day.
I hitched rides from so many friends. Thank you to Kymberli, Robin, Christina, Sonita, Desiree, Lisa, Gail and Amber who all cheerfully picked me up as I trudged home from the bus, or amiably agreed to take me and my groceries home when I ambushed them at our local grocery store. To Casie and Linda and Paula and Meka who took me to and from AA meetings when I would have stayed in bed. To Renee and Mike who gave me rides home from work. To Cindy who gave me rides to work and to Target. To my kids' dad, who uncomplainingly shouldered a great deal more of carpooling and kid activity than would have otherwise been necessary; he even took me grocery shopping sometimes. To my father and stepmother, who would pretty much pick me up anywhere at anytime, despite whether it involved my boys screaming in the back seat. And of course to Judi, who took care of my car and made sure my kids got to school fed and in one piece.
I walked A LOT. At least 5 miles a week. To the bus stop certainly, but also the hair stylist, the pedicurist, the grocery store.
I've chatted with a lot of strangers. I've met some interesting people. The recovering meth addict who was sometimes my driver from the car service who asked for relationship advice. The guy on the bus with ostrich skin boots who told me where to get them in Mexico and then made all the white people uncomfortable by yelling, "Get me off this motherfuckin' slave ship"; the guy from my DUI class who was writing a history of the Stewart clan from Scotland; the young woman from my DUI class who wasn't even 21 and despite her DUI got a job selling luxury cars. There was a homeless woman at the trolley stop one day who told me she was a week away from collecting on a $2.5 million personal injury settlement. A Sean Connery look-alike gave me advice on gelato shops on the bus one afternoon. Young gangsta-wannabe teenaged boys politely offered me their seats more times than I can count.
I didn't cry or feel sorry for myself quite as often as I thought I would, but I did sometimes. The Boyfriend did an amazing job keeping my spirits up.
I didn't drink. Jury's still out on the nasty cigarette habit. Sometimes I had to get in bed and watch marathons of House or Criminal Minds to get through.
I didn't drive.
I don't feel as if I've done anything amazing. You would've been able to manage this too. What I feel, at the end of the day, is lucky, and enormously grateful and humbled.
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