What?

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.

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.

Chasing the Bus

My friend Judi picks me and the kids up on the mornings they are with me. She drives me to the bus stop and then takes the boys to her house, where they have second breakfast with her son. Then they all walk to school together. W once told her, "Judi, you're the center of the earth." And indeed she is.

Often we're late. Sometimes she's late. This puts us in a situation that has come to be known as Chasing the Bus. As in,"Hurry up, Judi's going to be here soon, and we don't want to Chase the Bus."

Judi's learned a tricky maneuver of cutting right in front of the bus if it's about to drive away without me. The bus driver once asked me if she was a cop because she cut him off so elegantly.

If we round the corner and see that the bus has taken off, the kids yell, "Oh no, we're chasing the bus!" Judi bravely chases it to one of the four remaining stops before it gets on the freeway. We always make it.

Other Things You Don't Want to Happen if You Can't Drive A Car

Someone (and I'm not naming names, but it's one of the two people who are shorter than I in my household) left the back gate open on Saturday. Mariah, the dog who doesn't eat everything, but is unfortunately fond of her own feces, decided to go on a little adventure.

I didn't realize she was gone for awhile, and by then it was dark and while I wandered around the neighborhood for some time calling for her, I couldn't find her. We made up some lost dog posters and I put up a listing on craig's list. Then I checked the County Animal Shelter website, and there she was, smiling up at me, quite pleased with herself. They were closed through Monday, I couldn't get away from work on Tuesday, so she remained incarcerated for three and a half days.

This is what it took to spring her: I took a trolley to a stop near the shelter. My friend Kymberli picked me up there. We drove over to the shelter, where I paid an impound fee, a renewed license fee, another renewed license fee FOR MY OTHER DOG!! (Don't ever tell them you have another dog) and a daily boarding fee. Total cost: $98. Time away from work--3 hours.

They brought her out to me and she showed no remorse, no shame. Indeed, she was quite jaunty about the whole thing. Boomer was thrilled to see her, and when I released her into the backyard, she headed over to the gate, as if hoping it were still open.

I took the bus back to work, worked a couple more hours and took the bus home.

Four weeks and two days.

In Which I Survive A Family Vacation. Totally Sober.

The kids and I just got back from a week in Lake Tahoe. With my parents. And my aunt. We drove, or rather, my father drove all of us. 9 hours up there. About 11 back. All in one car. My first vacation sober in memory.

The last time we went on a "family vacation" was about two years ago. We took the kids and joined my husband's family at a place we used to frequent on the coast of South Carolina. I made sure we stocked plenty of wine and vodka and while I wasn't drunk all day, every day, I observed a four o'clock happy hour and kept it up until about midnight.

My own family, like most people's, is a cast of characters. My 77-year old aunt has worn an Elizabeth Taylor-style wig since before I was born. When I was young, she was the only one who understood why I HAD TO HAVE THE RED MARY JANE SHOES even though they hurt my feet. We share an interest in sparkly jewelry and celebrity news. She has become a bit forgetful, though, and tends to talk about people and places in vague pronouns, which can make it difficult to have a conversation with her.

This exchange happened in the car on the ride back after we identified the song on the radio as written by Janis Joplin,

Aunt: "You know, she was with that actor who played in that movie with Barbra Streisand."

Me: "Kris Kristofferson?"

Aunt: "Yes. They were all set to get married."

My father: "I thought she was a lesbian?"

My aunt" "That's right."

(At this point, Dad and I pause, not sure where this is going)

My aunt, clearly comfortable with the way this is going: "They were both schoolteachers."

(My father and I exchange a glance in the rearview mirror that says we don't believe this is true, but really, you're going to question the woman who knows more about celebrity gossip than E! ?)

My father becomes the Great Santini on a road trip. I was instructed that the children and I should be ready at 5 a.m. SHARP, or we'd be left behind. We were ready. Let the record reflect that they were late, although I'm sure that had more to do with the foot-dragging of my stepmom and my aunt. On the way home, he grumbled to me when I said I needed to use the bathroom, "Just like when you were a kid--always had to go to the bathroom." "Dad, our last stop was THREE HOURS AGO!" He was unswayed. Apparently he has a bladder of steel.

My stepmother is the family's beloved control freak. She is the glue that keeps us all together, the planner, the one who makes family meals and family vacations happen. She is a stunning force of nature. She told me once that if everyone would just live the way she told them to do, we would all be much happier. On a regular basis, she pushes us all a little too far and we snap at her. Bless her, she is unfazed, and retreats to fight another day.

By the time we all arrived in the Sierras, I was pooped, cranky. Stepmom sidles up to me and whispers, "I have a xanax, do you want it?" Apparently recovery from alcoholism doesn't preclude a little light pill abuse in her book.

I can't say it was a relaxing vacation, and I kind of wish I'd hunted down an AA meeting, just to see what sobriety looked like in Lake Tahoe, but I'm proud to say I got my kids up on a snowboard and skis, respectively, and we had some good solid family fun.

Countdown

In eight weeks and one day, I can go to the DMV and get a new driver's license. I have to take the written test. I get a new picture. And then I'm going to pick up my kids and take them on a roadtrip.

Alone Together

I'm on the bus. The local because it's a holiday. Meeting the Boyfriend so we can hit a few golf balls. I have two clubs and a putter. And a bag with my bike seat in it. Another guy just got off carrying a guitar. Everyone is looking at their phone, texting or listening to music. No one's reading a paper or a book. No one is talking. I've erred by failing to get coffee.