DOL

I've spent some quality time at the local Department of Licensing.

Oh, are you already saying "this can't be good...."

Indeed.

I could write one very long post about their antics, or several point specific posts and still have left over material. Still one major irritation I have is: that for a state that seems to hand out driver's licenses, willy nilly, to illegal aliens who then turn around and utilize that identification to obtain other benefits/rights usually reserved for citizens (natural born or legal ones) of a nation they sure get fussy with the rest of us and frankly I don't get it.

The Youngest got his driver's permit last summer. I had to bring a lot of paperwork/identification to get the permit. They verified it and typed it into their system.

We go back to sign up for his driving test to get his driver's license.

They require all the same information that we brought in six months ago to be re-presented. (You know, all the information that was already verified and entered into their system - yes, I'm repeating my self...so were they.) PLUS they also want his SS#. You know the number that is specifically not supposed to be required by law for the purpose of identification?????

And then we start on the fact that my identification lists me under my maiden name, which of course makes The Youngest's last name different than mine...

Well, what a stroke of luck!!! We have his birth certificate with us.

LOOK!

It states that this child was born to a woman who happens to have the same name as me. What a coincidence!

But they want to see a marriage license because they need to make sure that I'm the/a custodial parent.

Really?

A marriage license proves that?  What if, in these "enlightened" days, Farm Boy & I had never formally tied the knot?? Would that make The Youngest any less my child? (Remember I've got his certified birth certificate in my hands) OR if Farm Boy had accompanied The Youngest to the DOL, just because they had the same last name, does that mean he's the custodial parent? What if we were divorced? How about if he was actually his uncle?

But, because we've played this game before - I do indeed have the marriage certificate with me. I hand it over with a raised eyebrow.

When we're finished w/the boy, after almost 3 decades of wedded bliss I plunk down my money and (due to the increase of identity theft and heightened scrutiny of ID in general) request a formal name change on my license.

Make it so #1.

It is done.

While I'm at it I figure I should probably get the "enhanced" version so I can wander back & forth across the Canadian & Mexican borders if the mood strikes me.

Stop Engines.

The notarized marriage certificate that was good enough to get my name officially changed will not work. Apparently I need to go to the court house to get one that has "all the numbers" on it.

???

Seriously?

Oh yes, we're done here...

So I go to the court house. Pay more money for an EXACT COPY of the certificate I had handed the darling DOL employee.

Same #'s on certificate - just notarized by a different person.

Someone is just not too smart.

AND it's probably me - cause I still JUST DON'T GET IT!

Let's not talk about why illegal aliens don't have to show ID to get their voter registration because it's racial discrimination/profiling.

We don't want to go there today.
-

How fun can change people's decisions - The Piano Stairway

Let Me Tell You About Wendy

I met Wendy what? 30+ years ago.

She is lovely.

She is petite, has gorgeous black hair, beautiful sparkling eyes, a flawless complexion and a smile that lights the night. Truly a classic beauty.

More importantly she is kind, gracious & humble. One of those people who looks for, and finds, the positives in life.   Someone who you could almost learn to dislike because she, she's so...perfect! But that's impossible to do because she also comes with this little grin that flirts with the corners of her lips when we're all getting TOO serious about ourselves.

I am always amazed by my friends. I know some awesome people. Their biggest flaw seems to be that they like me, in spite of myself!

What's up with that???

Don't get me wrong...I'm grateful. Truly. But still....

So the other day Wendy & I are instant messaging. Basically making noise, no earth shattering news being passed back & forth. I'm making my usual scathing, in your face remarks - trying to be funny. I reread something I've written and figure it's time to repent. "Sorry," I write, "was trying to be humorous - sometimes I think I'm funny." :(

Without missing a beat she writes back - "You are."

Ahhhh.

Okay, she may have one fault. Apparently she lies.

But I love her for it!

Silly Horthy

A new horseshoer was recommended to me and Padwon got her hooves trimmed today.

Turns out it wasn't a horseshoer, they are a team.  Older guy, Steve & his apprentice. Both good hands w/ a horse.

But two new people in her barn? My little blond just stressed about it.

Overall she did fairly well, and I had to laugh when I led her out so that Steve could watch how she was traveling. We were done and as we were talking, in the middle of the pasture, I undid her halter. As soon as she was free she went from patiently standing to an immediate explosion of action - the head went up, the tail went up and she thundered off at a dead run, throwing dirt clods in the air as she fled across the pasture. She reached the far fence, turned and glared balefully at us.

Just had to let us know that she thoroughly disapproved of two strange men crowding her.

But she's a girl who's got her priorities straight...

I got a handful of grainful of grain, whistled, and said..."if you want this you'd best come arunning!"

Huh?

Her head jerks, she sees that the guys are out of the corral so she immediately makes a bee line to me and the grain.

I guess being (and remaining) indignant is just not all that it's cracked up to be!

It's Been One of Those Weeks

I need to turn to more light hearted posts. Find something funny, clever, witty to talk about, but first...

Without going into details I need to confess that I was asked, the other day, to do something.

"And?" You say...

Well, yes, at first blush I know it appears I am being a crank again.

I don't mind helping people. I do mind enabling people, especially those who are younger, fitter, and more able than I. And when they want me to pay their way, do their jobs, take care of their tasks, or personal chores that they are just flat TOO LAZY or cheap to do?

Fortunately she surprised me so badly that I was struck momentarily speechless, therefore by the time I was ready to ask her what her last slave had died of - the moment had passed...

On the polar end of the spectrum I am regularly dismayed, by the amount of people who can truly use assistance. There are many who have not had the physical, spiritual or financial blessings that some of the rest of us have. This morning a sweet woman, who has battled a series of health crisis's, was overwhelmed. This lovely lady needed, at the very least, a friend, a confidante.

This week I've run into people who have no respect for other's property, time or feelings.  On the other hand I've seen humble people who are lonely and discouraged who could truly use some help. I have little patience for the first. Almost limitless sympathy for the last.

The sad thing is that the entitlement babies are a yawning, mass of self centered neurosis's. You literally can't do enough for them.

More heartbreaking are those truly in need. They ask so little. They expect even less. And because of that they so often go unnoticed, especially when they're surrounded by the "ME" menagerie.

I weary of the madding crowd. Sometimes it seems a fine irony that we're commanded to esteem our brother even as our selves because some of those selfish souls use all the available oxygen leaving the frail ones to faint.

And that just doesn't seem fair.

-

Enuf With The Dogs Already!

We live in a semi-rural area, BUT there is a county leash law...like if you own a dog it should be on your property and stay there. Whatever it takes. Obedience training, electronic monitoring, fencing or alas - a chain.
You know where this is going, yes?

Last nite, as I came home and started to drive into the garage I saw a tell tell streak of water slurred all the way across the driveway.

Someones dog, (you know, the dog that WE do not own. The dog that is supposed to be in its own yard?) has been in our pond. Killing the fish & trampling the landscaping.

Again.

Sigh.

Then when I tried to let the cat out later he started out the door & did a wild 180 as he rushed back into the house just slightly ahead of another neighbors mutt.

So today while I'm working I pull up to a mailbox. An older woman is walking her chocolate lab. (We are not in front of her house.) As I pull to the mail box, she looks confused. The ground is nicely leveled both in front of and behind the mailbox. There is even layer of gravel all around it and ample room to pass behind said box.

Does she think I wish to speak w/her?

Ummm, let's see...vehicle w/sole occupant sitting on the "wrong" side of the vehicle, a sign that says US Mail, a person wearing a USPS badge and a hand held out with letters aiming for the mail box.

Maybe it's the mail lady????

Or maybe it's just taking her a little time to process what's going on and she'll assume it's safe for her to continue walking her dog by GOING BEHIND THE MAIL BOX.

Silly me.

Instead she stops, is standing there (holding her leashed dog) staring as it jumps up on the side of the van with it's very large, untrimmed toe nails.

I can hear the screech of it's nails on the paint.

I know I've got "the look" on my face.

Our little lady looks puzzled. At no time does she reprimand the animal or attempt to get it off of my vehicle, or apologize. She can't seem to understand why I would be annoyed. "She's very friendly," she assures me.

Really? Who would have guessed?

I'd like to assure her that she can now pay for the damage to my vehicle her flippin' friendly animal caused.

She finally pulls the dog off of the van and continues her walk.

I wonder, uncharitably, if I can follow her home and put a huge scratch in her vehicle. She wouldn't have a problem with that, right?

You know - I actually like dogs.

But I'd rather their owner's would enjoy them on their own time and their own property.

Novel idea, eh?

Very BIG Needles

I sooo would have not made a good junkie.

Hate needles.

Always have since I was a little girl and my parents, for some reason, decided to take all 4 of us kids to the doctors office for shots.

Mom left.

The four of us were hanging out in one of the rooms. I was about four????

The nurse comes in with this hypo. Looks around and grabs Ron. Jabs him - he squeals and makes all kind of noise. Then Allen. He didn't look a lot happier. After that Jo and by the time she got to me, well I wasn't sure exactly WHAT was going on, but my little brain had processed that it was. not. a. good. thing.

I remember making a dash for freedom. I jumped over a chair, tried to climb over the bed...I was terrified. I think I was going to try to jump out of the barred windows. Tears were streaming down my face. The woman must have been a bulldogger in a former life because she grabbed me as I ran past, sat on me and you know, I was so hysterical that I can't even remember getting the shot now.

Still don't know what it was for.

I asked Mom. She doesn't remember.

Needless to say I've cast a jaundiced eye at anyone bearing a needle since.

I've had 3 c-sections and being Rh neg. and somewhat accident prone I've had multiple opportunities to glare at needle bearing, nurses, technicians, phlebotomists & doctors.

And you know what?

They don't care.

In order to try to preserve some vestige of dignity I long ago decided to simply ignore the blood suckers. I go to my happy place: ride my gelding, Sabyr, along the South Touchet River; listen to the breeze rustle thru the leaves; and feel the warmth of the sun on my back. It also helps to look any place but where they're setting up their mid-evil weapons of torture...

So today, I had to go get cortisone shots in both knees. It's been seven months since the last one and that was just in the left knee. The doctor used his little freeze spray stuff, the nurse handed him the needle below the table and other than feeling a short period of pressure, it was done.

Oh, you rock Doc!

Today however, the Orthopedic Office was a little busy. Sandra, the nurse, filled the syringes, laid out all the supplies and left. I read a magazine, contemplated the ceiling, laid down & pretended to take a short nap, but you know when you and the needles are just sitting there for 45 minutes...

Holy kraut! Look at those puppies. I've used smaller needles on my horses!!! Now I know the cortisone is probably viscuous and needs a larger hole and bigger needle to be delivered, but these babies were a good 3 inches long.

I stare in fascination.

Then I start figuring how much longer I could deal with the pain before it would drive me back to the office...Just as I finally decided that there is no time like now to revert to my 4 year old self, and make an escape, Dr. Perry walks in.

He grabs the syringe  and waves it around. He has forgotten that I have a needle phobia. I grit my teeth and focus on the door knob.

First one, some pressure but pretty good. I let out the breath I'm holding.

Second one...yes, I know to hold VERY STILL. But I have chubby knees. That makes it more difficult to hit the correct spot and well, "we" didn't make it. The needle hits a nerve and the knee bounces in an automatic reflex.

"Eek," I squeak, "sorry, sorry, sorry."

"DO NOT MOVE." He says through gritted teeth.

"I know, I know, I know..."

We both take a collective breath.

"Okay, I have this in but I need to re-angle it. Stay still."

As I nod, he goes again & I let out an involuntary squeal and I find I'm trying to suck my leg backwards into the table. He stops momentarily. We look at each other. Then he "jams" it home & injects the fluid in one quick motion...

"Ummm," I say, "that was - fun."

He looks at me sympathetically and says, "Ice it when you get home."

Sandra finally shows up. As I go to the front desk she walks with me. "You okay?
You're not going to collapse are you?"

"No, no." I say. "It just feels a little weird, but it'll work itself out. Besides, seriously, if I fall what are YOU going to do about it?"

"Well," my 115 pound nurse says, "I can catch you...or if all else fails, throw myself on the floor first so you have some cushioning to land on!"

I've got a visual on this and I just start LMAO! I grope for the wall so I literally don't fall down laughing.

I wipe a tear from my eye and say, "If that happens, do us both a favor and get the heck out of the way!!!!"

Silly girl.

You know, I've been doggin' the diet for a while. Lost 55 pounds and then just got lazy...but not anymore.

Needles, very BIG needles = incentive. Lots & lots of incentive.