~ The Continuing Saga of the California Drivers License

Today I decided to give California and the DMV another shot by trying once again to get my California drivers license. Plus, if I wait much longer, my Nebraska license will expire and I'll have to not only take the written test, but I'll also have to take the driving test and the way the people who work the DMV are, who the hell knows what kind of wackadoo I'd be lucky enough to drive with.

The first time I tried to get my license, I sat in the DMV and waited for 2 hours before my number was called. When I finally got up to the counter, I handed the lady my filled out paperwork and my VALID Nebraska drivers license. I was then told I needed my birth certificate. I asked the lady if my Nebraska license, which is valid, isn’t enough ID for them. She said no. Evidently, living in the state of California, I now have to prove who I am.

Now, it took me three trips to the DMV to get California plates on my car and even then, I came home so frustrated and near tears, that I called KJ and said, “I’m done. I’m packing my shit and moving home.” I really should have known that it would also take 3 trips to get my license.

My first stop this morning was the salon to get my hair cut; I wanted to at least have a decent picture on my license. That done, I drove to the DMV and got there about 12:30ish. My number was G130 and as I sat down, they had just called G107. Fabulous....another long wait at the DMV. After waiting close to an hour, they call my nunber.....G130 now being served at window # 8. I jumped up, anxious to take my test and get it done and over with.

I make my way up to the window and the lady asked how she could help me. The conversation went something like this . . .

DMV lady: What can I do for you?

Me: I need to take the written drivers test.

DMV lady: Is this your first California license?

Me: Yes (and then I proceed to hand her the paperwork, my VALID Nebraska drivers license and my birth certificate)

DMV lady: (looks at birth certificate - which I was told I needed after trying to get my license the FIRST time - then looks at Nebraska license) You're married?

Me: umm, yes (nonchalantly waving wedding ring in the air)

DMV lady: Will you be using your married name on your drivers license?

Me: (thinking to myself, DUH but politely said) Yes, doesn't everyone?

DMV lady: I need to see your marriage certificate.

Me: Excuse me? First I had to prove who I was by bringing my birth certificate and now I have to prove that I'm married?

DMV lady: If you're using your married name on your license, I need to see official documentation that you're married.

Me: My Nebraska license has my married name on it, is that not 'official' enough for you?

DMV lady: No

Me: I have my Social Security card with me; it also has my married name on it.

DMV lady: That is not official documentation

Me: This is the 2nd time I've tried to get my license. The first time I was here, I was told I needed to come back with my birth certificate to prove who I was. Now you're telling me I have to prove that I'm married. Why was I not told this the first time I was here?

DMV lady: I don't know but I can't help you until I see official documentation.

Me: (muttering as I walk away) And people wonder why the state of California is so fucked up.

After my experience with the California DMV, I can now see why some wackadoo’s go postal. It’s now obvious to me why the state of California is broke and in such disarray. Trust me when I say that California might be a nice place to visit but it’s certainly not a place you want to live.

I think I'll just keep my Nebraska license and call it good.

~ Love Like Crazy

I remember after bringing Ryan home from the hospital, I often found myself wishing for a guide book of some sort. Something that would help guide me through all the ups and downs of caring for and raising a child. Seriously, what first time parent doesn’t happily and cluelessly bring their newborn home from the hospital and within an hour, isn’t scouring the internet looking for an instruction manual? With pictures.

By the time Lynsay arrived, I had a fairly good idea of what I was doing and could only hope that I didn’t mess it up. As the kids grew up and got older, KJ and I both came to the stark realization that all we could do was love them, teach them right from wrong, teach them values, encourage them to always do their best and to never give up on their dreams. The rest would be up to them.

As they grew, my dream for both of them was that they lead happy and fulfilling lives; lives rich with love and laughter, and a family and children of their own. Children of their own means grandchildren for me.

This past weekend, Lynsay took the first step of that journey. She and her boyfriend Cody got engaged while we were in Newport Beach. He actually got down on one knee and asked her to marry him in front of God and everybody. She cried, and watching from a distance, tears of joy silently slid down my face.

Over the weekend, I discovered an indescribable joy in seeing the way her eyes light up whenever she looks at Cody. Her face radiates joy and love. My dream for her came true.

As a mother, I want nothing more for my kids than to find a life partner; someone to share all the joys that life has to offer. Someone who will share not only the joy but the sorrow, a person who will share any burdens or hardships that life throws at them. Someone to dance with, laugh with, raise babies with and grow old with. Watching Lynsay and Cody this past weekend, I know that in Cody, she’s found that person.

I pray that their joyous times will always outweigh the times of sorrow and that love and laughter not only fill their hearts, but also their home.

And may they always love like crazy . . . .

~ Interesting

Hmmmm, maybe I should go check the inventory in my closet . . . .

~ Pappy & Harriet's

I can’t believe it . . . one of my favorite places is For Sale.

I better get up there as much as I can before the place is sold. So, I’ll be there tonight - my reservations are for 5pm and with any luck, we’ll be able to snag a table or a couple of places at the bar for the second seating. I can taste that Cuban sandwhich now . . . .

btw, anyone have an extra $1.9 million laying around??

~ College World Series

The College World Series is coming to a close . . . in more ways than one. Once the last inning is played and the winning team is crowned the victor, the series and Rosenblatt will come to an end. The CWS will move to its new home in downtown Omaha while Rosenblatt Stadium will be bulldozed, allowing Henry Doorly Zoo to expand. It’s kind of bittersweet. While the CWS will move on to something bigger and better, a monument & legacy in Omaha will be torn down. How weird will it be to drive down 13th Street and not see Rosenblatt? Don't forget who wins the series this year.....we might find it as a trivia question someday - Who was the last team to win the CWS at Rosenblatt Stadium?

For as long as I can remember, KJ and I have found our way to Rosenblatt during the CWS. Once we had the kids, we brought them with us. As they got older, it became a tradition that we’d go Father’s Day weekend. It's true what they say - baseball is definitely a family thing. The four of us would pick our favorite team for that series and from then on, it was ‘may the best team win.’

It soon became a family joke that one could pick whatever team they wanted because ‘Mom’s team always goes home first.’ It was like I was automatically jinxing the team I picked to win the series.

However, this year is different. Just because KJ and I now live in California doesn’t mean we don’t continue the tradition of picking our teams. When I told Lynsay what team I picked, I heard, “Mom!! Don’t you look at stats?” I stared at the phone and thought to myself, ‘Who IS this child talking to me about stats?’ When I told Ryan, I heard, “You’ll be going home first.”

Well, I’m here to tell you that the “Moms team always goes home first” streak has been broken. My pick, (South Carolina Gamecocks) is playing their 2nd game in the Championship right now, as I sit here typing. So, to my son, my daughter and KJ.......neener neener neener. Uh huh, I really did just say that.

Excuse me while I go cheer on my team . . . .

Oh, btw.....Go Cocks!!

~ Father's Day

“It is a wise father that knows his child.”

. . . William Shakespeare

In our family, the kids come to KJ and I for different reasons.

KJ is the ‘go to’ guy. When the kids need to know anything at all (and I mean anything), they go to their dad. He is a fountain of wisdom who seems to know the answer to anything they ask. It’s always been this way. We’d be driving down the interstate and Lynsay would see something and she’d say, “Dad, what’s that for” and he’d have the answer. Or Ryan would see something and say, “Dad, how does that work?” and KJ would have the answer. I don’t know how he does it.

It’s been a joke in our family for as long as I can remember . . . if you need to know an answer to something, go to dad. Kj knows it, I know it and the kids know it. I’ve gotten to the point where I’m no longer offended when the kids say, “Oh, well, we’ll just ask dad, he’ll know” because I know that not only will he have the answer the kids are looking for but it will be the right answer. I have no idea how he does it!

I’m the mom, so they come to me for ‘mom’ type things and that’s perfectly okay with me. I nurture, I love, I advise, I give a boost to their sagging attitudes, turn their frowns into smiles, dry their tears, clean their scraped up knees and try to heal their bruised or broken hearts.

I’m not, however, the ‘go to’ guy. That job falls to KJ...always has and always will. And I’m okay with that.

So, to the man who definitely knows his children, loves them, fulfills their every wish & their every need and who has the answer to all their questions big and small....Happy Father’s Day. From the moment the doctor took Ryan out of my stomach and placed him in your arms, I knew what kind of father you’d be; the look of awe and wonder on your face was definitely a “kodak moment.” You wear the role of fatherhood like a second skin. Everytime I see you with our kids, my heart swells with an indescribable love and joy. You, my love, took to fatherhood like it was what you were born to do. I know it, they know it and now you know it. Happy Father’s Day . . . you’re the best.

~ Summer

Summer . . . never-ending days of flip-flops and swimsuits - the smells of summer always in the air....fresh cut grass, bbq grills and suntan oil and the shrieks & laughter of the children floating through the air.

When I was growing up, summer was absolutely my most favorite time of the year. The last day of school could never come fast enough. In grade school, I spent my summers chasing after my brothers & cousins and shopping with my mom and one of her friends who had a daughter my age. This friend of my moms made a lot of my clothes and on these shopping excursions, my friend and I were often dressed exactly alike. Hey, in those days, it was kinda cool. I think. In junior high, I spent my summer days at the pool, crushing on the redheaded lifeguard from afar. He was probably all of 18 but when you’re 13, well.....the redheaded lifeguard seemed like the perfect summer crush. In highschool, I spent my summers at Peony Park, slathering baby oil & iodine on my skin and still crushing on the lifeguards.

After I got married, had kids and started working for the school system, the last day of school and summer took on a whole new meaning. I mean, seriously....when you spend 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, 10 months out of the year with hormonal teenagers....you’ve got summer AND adult beverages on the brain from August til May.

In the early years, summer meant trips to the zoo with the kids, fishing trips to Canada for Ryan and trips to Oklahoma for Lynsay and I. It meant spending every day for hours on end at Papio Bay with the kids and friends. For all I cared, summer could have gone on and on and on. The carefree days were what recharged my batteries and got me ready for fall and a new school year.

These days, I still love summer. I still spend my summer days out by the pool but instead of crushing on the redheaded lifeguard, I find myself . . . shhhh, crushing on Roarke because I’m usually reading an Eve Dallas book. Oftentimes, I close my eyes while floating in the pool and in my minds eye, I’m at the beach instead of my own backyard but hey, who wouldn’t want to be at the beach, right?

Sundays are pool days here.....KJ and I will spend the bulk of the day floating around in the sun, enjoying the peace and quiet while sipping strawberry margartias. Shrugs, sipping sounds much better than guzzling.

And when the days of triple digit weather gets to be too much, we’ll find ourselves on the beach and trust me, there is nothing quite like having your lawn chair in the sand with the vast ocean right before you.

Summer days . . . . gotta love ‘em.