Better Take a Number

Being the proud, if confused, new owners of a travel trailer, we needed to go get the title changed.  So we head down to the Department of Motor Vehicles to get the proper forms filled out.  On the first try down at the licensing agency, it turns out we are missing one, so contact the owner and after several days, get the form signed.  Thus armed with papers and signatures, we stride into the licensing office to do business.

Imagine our surprise when there is not one single person in line.  None whatsoever.  We grin at each other and walk up to the counter to hand the man our papers.

“I’m sorry,” he says.  “I can’t help you, you need to go to the window titled Titles.”

“Oh.”  We look at the signs and we are in the wrong line.  So we go over to the window titled Titles, just like he said.

Who should appear but the same man.  We hand him the papers.

He doesn’t touch them, for a second man instructs us, “You need to take a number.”

“But there is no one here.”

“You need to take a number.”

We find the number machine and take a number.  It’s 23.  We stand there for a moment, expecting him to call us. 

Nope.  We take a seat.  After we sit, the man who told us to take a number gets on the loudspeaker and says, “NOW SERVING NUMBER 23.”  The building reverberates.  Apparently, sitting is a required function.

We walk to the window ready to do business, but the two men are busy elsewhere.  This too must be a required function of the process.  After a few moments of standing there, the first man comes to help us.

He can’t figure out what model of travel trailer we have, so we tell him to find the closest description and make a guess.  We might have well told him to put a gun to his head and pull the trigger.  He gasped.

After ten minutes of puzzlement and discussion, we figure out the model number.

In California, they call the licensing place the Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV).  Here in Washington, it’s called the Department of Licensing (DOL).  One should know this before wasting a check by making it out to the wrong acronym.

The titles are eventually printed and signed in the correct places, and we heave a sigh of relief.

As we head out the door, we whisper to the innocent walking in, “Better take a number.”

Don't Worry About the Grandchildren

Hi Honey,

Glad you had a nice time at your party. We loved babysitting the grand twins.  They were so good. Toddlers are so delightful.

Thanks for letting me bring Banjo.  Sorry he pooped on the floor the minute we got there. I was on my way to clean it up but Ellie dropped a book in it.  Don't worry, we thoroughly washed Ellie's hand with super soap.  Also sorry he chewed up a block from John's childhood but I think we did a nice job with the chop saw.  Copper was very tolerant of Banjo trying to bite his ears and hump him all night.  I'm kinda surprised because Banjo's only a puppy.  Banjo's just exhausted today. Ha, ha!  Dogs!

We got the new bubble making machine out and the kids do a great job with it.  They figured out how to press that little button to turn it on. Jack showed us that the little fan that blows the bubbles would not hurt his finger.  Ellie's hair was another story though, and I believe I did a pretty good job cutting the bubble machine out.  It is off to one side so you barely notice that it is short there.

Your new deck is glorious!  We decided to hose it off so that you wouldn't slip on all the soap we used blowing bubbles.  And since the broom was soapy too, we decided to use it to scrub off your back door where Copper's muddy footprints were.  That wasn't working, so I found some Pine Sol, and Dad found a brush and we went after it.  Do you have any paint?  We can repaint next time we're there where I brushed a leetle too hard and the paint came off.  Dad had this great idea to use the hose to spray it clean.  Did you know that your backdoor is not watertight?  The water went in your pantry, under the water heater and cat box.

Those Swiffers don't work so well on floods.  No worries!  I found some rags and cleaned up most of it, got the cat box out and (sorry) it slipped and dropped cat litter everywhere.  I'm pretty sure I got most of it, but some of it went under the water heater and I couldn't quite reach it.  Don't worry that the kids got into it, Dad took them into their room.

They invented a great new game!  Dump the Blocks.  Put all the blocks in one bucket, hold it as high as you can, the DUMP THE BLOCKS into another bucket.  Jack just loved it.  Chuck and Meredith from next door came over and wanted to know if everything was okay because you know how boys like to scream. Chuck really likes your beer, by the way.  I hope we didn't give him that special stuff you got in Roslyn.  That wasn't the beer in the growler, was it?

I'm pretty sure I got most of the water and cat litter up off your new kitchen floor, and it was getting near bath time, so we headed the kids into the bathroom.  I did as you said and set the kids on the potty.  Success from both kids.  Jack's not too good at aiming yet.  His little thing can really squirt, but it only got on Dad.  Dad laughs at anything.  I gave them smiley faces on their chart, but you know, I'm not sure I'd let them use that permanent marker to draw the faces.  Ellie drew a really big one.  I think you need a bigger piece of paper.  We can paint over it where it went all over the wall.  They wanted smiley faces on themselves too.  I thought that clown I drew on Ellie's stomach came out pretty well.  It got a little bigger than I planned, but it is still pretty cute.

Into the tub, and a bit more water mess.  Ha, ha.  That's why that pile of rags and towels are sitting on your washing machine.

The kids got a little sad when it was time for bed and missed you and their Daddy, so we got your picture and looked at it and sang that ear worm song about Mama and Dada.  Jack wanted to hold it and so did Ellie.  We can get you a new piece of glass for the frame, don't worry.  Nobody got cut.  We put them down and they only called us in once to retrieve binkies from the floor.  Dad tripped over some of the blocks that didn't make it in the bucket and smashed one of his front teeth when he fell against the changing table, but no worries, they are implants and didn't break.  Changing table is fine.

Chuck and Meredith said thanks for the beer, but since it was all gone they had better go.  Ha, ha, they are just hilarious people.  So much laughter.  That Meredith can laugh like a monkey and it just cracks me up.

So there you go, we had no trouble whatsoever.  Hope you had a good time at your party.

Love, Mom

How I Stole a Man’s Car and He Wound Up Marrying Me

In college, most guys have little economy cars, if any.  Not the most handsome man in all of Zeta Beta Tau fraternity.  Nope.  He drove an enormous family station wagon.  It screamed stability, future children, a house in the suburbs.  To me, at least.  To his fraternity brothers, it was dubbed The Party Wagon, and allowed them to cram in and go to the “$2.50 per carload” drive in theater.

When I started dating this guy, we never went anywhere on a single date.  The more the merrier was his motto.  First date was: “Hey guys, she said yes to going dancing at Ruby Begonia’s Roadhouse.  Hop in.”  The Party Wagon held nine people and we were always full.  Our second date was, “Hey guys, we’re going roller skating, hop in.” Our third date was up the coast at a sand dune beach and you can bet we were full again.  Out to Carrow’s restaurant for a late night sundae?  Table for nine, please.  My sorority sisters enjoyed coming along too.

Maybe he like the fact that I had to scoot over and sit squished beside him?

The only time there seemed to be less than nine people in his car was when I borrowed it on Sunday mornings to go to church while he slept in.  He loaned me his spare key, and I appreciated suddenly having wheels.

So all is going swimmingly in my new relationship.  Lots of ZBTs began hanging out with my sorority sisters too.  But then one of the ZBTs got the bright idea that our Chi Omega crest needed to be absconded with.  I have no idea why we kept our crest by the oft-unlocked back door.  It was a huge thing, probably 3 feet wide and 6 feet high.  You can imagine in which vehicle they spirited it away, probably with nine ZBT’s laughing their butts off.

The Chi Omegas were pink about it.  Vows of revenge.  Scouting teams were sent to storm the ZBT complex and certain other fraternities to find the thing.  I suspected it wasn’t in the ZBT house at all.  Sure enough.  Smack in front of the ZBT complex, parked on the street, the smug Party Wagon sat brooding over her contraband, a thin blanket thrown over a 3 X 6 object in the back.

I stuck my hands in my pockets and pondered my revenge, when behold!  The spare key!  I calmly started The Party Wagon and drove it to the Chi O house, we unloaded the crest, then I drove it back and parked it in the exact spot.  The ZBT’s were nowhere to be found.  Probably studying, they averred later.

No one even realized The Party Wagon had been on a turncoat mission until the next day, when they spied the limp blanket and realized the crest was no longer there.  Cries of “horse thief” and “call the police” ensued.  They were met with “breaking and entering” “burglary” from the Chi O’s.

“You stole my car!” exclaimed my Handsome Friend.

“Nonsense,” I replied.  “Your car is sitting right where you left it.  I did however, take back what WAS stolen.”

“You stole my car!” he repeated.

“Only temporarily,” I admitted.

Seven months after I met him, the handsome Party Wagon’s owner proposed.  Guess his heart was in the glove compartment and I stole that too.

Unlike the Party Wagon, I will never give it back.