Have Expired License, Will Travel

Ok, that headline is a canard, but how else can I get anyone to open a post about a trip to the Massachusetts Registry of Motor Vehicles?  It's been done to death, right?

But that never stopped me, right? (Yeah, that's what the officer said ....)

In fact, I needed to go there because the Commonwealth no longer sends out Save The Date cards for driver's license renewals. Now, I always viewed them as the anti-birthday card anyway -- they come in the mail at the same time, but YOU write the check to THEM ....  I guess the change saves us taxpayers money, but then you risk oblivious people like myself driving around with an expired license.

... If you want to know who your real friends are, ask them to accompany you to the RMV.  In my case, I gave her several chances to back out, so I know my mom's a keeper .... It also helps if your companion can parallel park, since the county office is downtown and therefore its parking lot's capacity maxes out at six mini-Coopers and a tricycle.

Here's an idea: valet parking at the RMV.

Other than the parking, the office here is probably much like yours, except it's more efficient and more expensive. We are the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. We've been doing stuff like this for almost 400 years, and we're not exactly slow learners (just ask Florida -- but be patient juuuust kidding....).

So you know the drill.  First you stand in what I call the triage line, and the triage staff hand out tickets with an alphanumeric code and approximate waiting time. Each of a dozen counters has a red LED sign which displays the number being served. The lady on my GPS unit also announces them over a speaker. (I wonder if she ever mixes up her two jobs: 'Turn left at counter number eight!')

... This is the type of stuff that runs through YOUR head while you're waiting, right?

... There are two waiting areas: the larger one has rows of wooden chairs, and the smaller has rows of benches which remind me of pews.

Here's an idea: church services at the RMV.

So you bring a friend, your iPod, Kindle, phone, H2O bottle, and there are Tv monitors with some headline news/RMV channel, but what do you do after the first 10 minutes? I forgot to bring any food, so I was reduced to scavenging in my purse. The search ate up 15 minutes, but all I found was an old piece of candy that tasted like lipstick.


Here's an idea: Food court at the RMV.


People-watching wasted another 10. I was amazed at the number of young couples with toddlers and babies, eerily resembling a family outing.

Here's an idea: child-care and pre-school at the RMV.

Mom was surprised by the number of people with tattoos. I was surprised by the number of people without tattoos.


Here's an idea: Tattoo Parlor at the RMV.




I also brought comb and make-up, since I suspected I needed a new photo.  We were headed to the hairdresser straight from the RMV, so my wardrobe and morning toilette straddled the fine line between wanting to look great and not giving a crap. Fortunately, there's no triage line for the Ladies Room, but since I'd eaten my lipstick, five minutes in there was all I could stretch it.

Here's an idea: hair salon at the RMV.




Just when I was starting to feel like Beetlejuice, my number was called. I successfully jump through all of the hoops, they take my picture, print out a temporary license (ironically, my hair looks great) and I am on my way. Total time: 47 minutes. Total cost: $50, only slightly more than a dollar per minute.

See what I mean about efficiency?

Ok, here's the complete proposal: Valet Parking - Church- Food Court - Child-care - Pre-school - Tattoo Parlor - Hair Salon - RMV.

Any other requests?

Wi- Fi? Lending Library? Clothing Boutique (for the photos)? Pawn Shop? Casino and Bar? no that won't work .... How about a used car dealership? State Farm Is There?



You can see the potential here even if you fail the eye test. Plus it would create jobs and raise revenue -- maybe enough to finance mailing out those renewal forms again ....

In lieu of the above, they should at least hand out stickers that say, 'Be Nice To Me Today, I Was At The RMV.'

Although I don't really care so much now that I won't need to return for another decade .... I'm just hoping none of my friends are up for renewal in the meantime ....


... I do too have friends ....







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Tattoo Be Or Not Tattoo Be?

I'm seriously thinking of seriously thinking of getting a tattoo.

I know, at my age! What am I seriously thinking of thinking?

Almost everyone I know (except family members) has them. No. 1 Son said we could throw him money next Christmas/birthday toward a backpiece of a burning $100 bill.

I don't think so (seriously).

No. 2 Son won a hundred dollar gift certificate from a tat-&-piercing shop.

Ok, it's a note written in red marker on a scrap of legal paper, and he won it in beer pong  ....

I created a really cool design a couple of years ago -- with the disclaimer  'Not that I'd ever consider getting inked' .... Picture this: the outline of a five-point star with lines from each point to a center point. These lines are anchors for the rest of a web. So it's a spider web in the shape of a star. Inside the web sit ... four small, solid-color stars.

Pretty inspired, right?

I've trademarked it, but it's available for licensing agreements .....

(I also have another design -- a lowercase 'c' inside a circle -- but it's copyrighted ....)

I know someone who will call someone who will take great care of me. I've decided it would fit nicely right where you'd cup my shoulder, plus no one would ever see it there because I never wear sleeveless tops and I wouldn't ever want anyone (except Husband) to see it. Would I?

Although it would still be visible when I wear a bathing suit, unless I can find a style with sleeves ....


Another thing stopping me from seriously thinking of it is the tattoo's old association as 'poor man's jewelry.' Yet the whole concept has gone mainstream (bumper sticker: Boycott Mall Tattoos). It's true, you can't sell a tattoo, but on the other hand (arm?), they can't be lost or stolen, either.

Hmmmm ........

... In fact, I don't think I said 'Not that I'd ever consider getting inked.' I believe the actual quote was, 'I have no plans as of this date to get inked.'



But I also have repeatedly told Nos. 1 & 2 Sons that a tattoo is even more forever than a diamond. Yet it can be argued that my forever won't last as long as theirs, and frankly, I don't care what I look like in the hereafter....

I'm also a bit worried about the installation pain. My personal pain threshold hovers somewhere near the arches of my feet. Yet I know I can withstand a little bit of temporary pain -- I've borne children, right?
 

So hearken, oh prince of Denmark, it looks like we finally may have something in common: 'to suffer the stings and arrows of subcutaneous torture ....'


Maybe I should brush up on my Shakespeare before making a final decision ....

Seriously.





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Cinco de Mayo Tamales - Recipe por Disastre (English Version)

Everyone who hoists a cerveza to celebrate Cinco de Mayo should know a little about that historic day.

So look it up....

Ok, the Wikipedia factlet says it commemorates a victory over the French in 1862 in the Mexican state of Puebla. I think it might have been the equivalent of our Flag Day, until it was seized (metaphorically) as a marketing tool by suds shillers, etc. ....


In our household, it is tradition for me to serve tamales.

Tamales con carne is one of my favorite foods, and it's not easy to find good ones where I live. Consequently, I make them myself.

Tamales are also one of the most labor-intensive dishes ever created. Remember the illustration in your sixth-grade social studies textbook where there are a bunch of Mexican women sitting around a fire making tamales? Let me assure you they have been at it for DAYS, and there are two more shifts of women out of sight who are doing prep work and washing all the dishes.

My first challenge was finding the bottom of my kitchen counter, which was last spotted on Good Friday.


So as a pre-step 1 (Step 0?), I have to empty the trash, dishwasher, recyclables and kitchen sink so they can be refilled with all the stuff on the counter. Mission accomplished.

Next (Step 00?) is cleaning and spraying the entire kitchen after noticing that some of the black specks in our speckled countertop are actually moving. Here's a tip: Windex works well .....

Next is finding the dried corn husks I had bought three days ago. I thought for sure I'd find them somewhere in my now-spotless kitchen, if not on that counter, but alas, gotta schlep back to the store for more.

-- See what I mean about labor intensive? I'm exhausted and I haven't even started. 

After my nap, I remember that earlier in the day I had lost a game of musical cars, so I had no car.

Predictably, my favorite tamale recipe is the one printed on the corn husk packaging.

But hey, I've made these many times before, I can wing this, right?

Although I am inviting guests and still have to clean, paint and redecorate the house before the guests arrive ... Ok, Ima wing it....

Next challenge, locate the rest of the ingredients. We're gonna proceed with a 90 percent success rate.


Cooking the beef filling presents no problem. Brown, add water and spices, and cook those suckers until they can be shredded by a newborn baby (not that I recommend it).

The peppers, however, can be an issue, especially if you forget a) which ones to use and b) the names of the ones you bought at the store, instead hoping for a 50 percent or greater match of memory and inventory ....

But Ok, we'll go with what we got. The only jalapeno I can find is a little moldy at the top, but, smartly donning gloves, I cut that part out. I also have some dried red California chiles, which I knowingly break open to empty maybe 1000 of the approximately 2 million  --

-- right after I finished writing the above, I start to smell something burning, so I race downstairs and discover that SOMEONE had inadvertently turned the beef up to HIGH, and so the good news is my house is still standing and I salvaged about half of the beef, I hope. The bad news is I now have no beef stock for the cornmeal batter ....

... You may have expected me to have reached for a margarita by now, but I press on with untainted breath because the kids emptied the liquor cabinet long ago and I have no car to go buy more and none of my friends are answering my desperate-sounding texts or calls or emails asking if they could do me a favor ....


... Back to the peppers: Put them in water and boil those suckers until ... no that can't be right.

I KNOW with about 50 percent certainty that I saved a copy of that recipe on the corn husk packaging. I find it after only 2 hours, in my collection of recipes -- which only looks unorganized if you don't know the system -- and that time frame also includes at least 20 minutes online beforehand sifting through inferior versions of tamale recipes and checking my FB page ....


Back to the peppers: they're finally cooked and I puree them with the nifty hand-held stick mixer that Husband, who just got home, last used for some rocket science experiment and helpfully fetches and disinfects. I blend the beef with the peppers and decide the mixture doesn't taste burned, it tastes charcoaled -- more authentic anyway.

So that's the point I'm at now. Next up, after persuading Husband to run out and buy the corn husks, is rehydrating them, then making the cornmeal batter, penultimately lining the husks with batter, then beef, folding them up, then FINALLY stacking them in the wok for steaming. Here's a tip: Woks work well.

Ok, I am aware it is May 6, but that was planned because our guests had a schedule conflict. I am hoping this is the end of this particular post, everything else will go smoothly from here on in, and there will be no Part 2 to report about the rest of the menu -- because I've already found my recipes for the nachos and flan, and if you can read, you can cook -- I'm living proof of that, right?


... Gotta go do dishes.







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The Second-Best Mother's Day Gift

I was feeling a bit obligated (should I say oblogated) to post something in honor of Mother's Day. I started to think about my own beloved, 87-year-old mom, and what a great job she and my dad did raising me and how wonderful I turned out and all. But there's too much sap to that angle. Still, I'd like to say up front that I love you more than ever, Mom, and thank you again for all your sacrifices.

Also, I forgot to mail your card .....


... When you're married to a rocket scientist,  Mother's Day celebrations tend to be cut-and-dried: cut flowers from the Stop & Shop and a complimentary load of wash ....


... In 2009, I spent Mother's Day in The Virgin Islands with two of my wonderful, extraordinary sisters. No husbands; no kids. I doubt anything will top that year ....

So in lieu of Mother's Day in Paradise, this in my opinion would be the next best gift:

It's a fairy tale, a wish come true: a Mother's Day Personal Assistant, who for a day will do and take all the crap I put up with in the course of a weekday so I don't have to.

Ok, a slave .....


My perfect day would go something like this:

To start, breakfast in bed, and hand me my clothes. Make the bed, then clean my bathroom before and after I shower (don't forget the grout); exfoliate my back.

Feed, water and amuse the cat, then let him in and out 1,000 times over the next 24 hours. I will handle petting him, but you can relieve me if I get tired ....


Empty the dishwasher, reload.

Gather up all of No. 1 Son's hats, shoes, sunglasses, keys, books, etc. and put them by the back door.

Empty the refrigerator of all leftovers. Unstop garbage disposal after said leftovers clog it up. Go grocery shopping to restock refrigerator so as to create more leftovers which will clog up the garbage disposal .....


Fetch my jacket, shoes, purse, phone, keys, water bottle, etc.


Chauffeur me to Target; let me off at the curb in front of the door. Push the cart. Fill cart as I point to items. Don't forget to redeem the coupons. Schlep all 122 bags back to car and house and kitchen and pantry and fridge.


Carry my purse, bags, keys; open doors for me. If it's raining, hold an umbrella for me.

Prepare and serve me meals, then clean up afterwards. I will chew and swallow the food myself.


Gather up all of No. 1 Son's hats, shoes, sunglasses, keys, books, etc. and put them by the back door.


Fetch me the remote, answer the phone and door. Pick up the napkin, piece of cereal, and that hated card inserted into EVERY SINGLE DELIVERY of EVERY SINGLE COPY of 'The New York Times' that I'm supposed to send back to subscribe -- duh, I already do! -- and which always, ALWAYS, inevitably, predictably, 365 days a year, ends up on the floor ....

Ok, I've calmed down, so to resume:

Also pick up all of the used tissues on the bedroom floor that fell short of the waste basket.

Run up and down the stairs 200 times a day doing laundry, cleaning, emptying trash, opening and closing windows, curtains and blinds, and turning appliances, electronics and lights on or off.

Locate all lost socks.

Empty/refill the dehumidifier/humidifier, whichever is applicable.

Bring me snacks decorated with pretty garnishes and also some pastel-colored beverages in stemware with little paper umbrellas in them.

Tell me I'm brilliant and beautiful and how it looks like I've lost some weight. Several times. But be creative with the flattery. Laugh at all of my puns, no matter how terrible.


Dial the phone number for me as I call my Mom. Hold the phone for me while I talk to her. I will do the talking myself.

Run to the gas station/bank/drug store, and remember to pick up that item I forgot to tell you to buy.

Gather up all of No. 1 Son's hats, shoes, sunglasses, keys, books, etc. and put them by the back door.

Massage my hands and feet while making witty conversation.

Watch 'HouseHunters' with me on HGTV without groaning and calling it 'Housefuckers.'

Gather up all of No. 1 Son's hats, shoes, sunglasses, keys, books, etc. and put them by the back door.



And finally, hand me my pajamas, fluff my pillow, tuck me in and turn off the Tv for me.


... Sounds pretty perfect, right?




I'm accepting applications as of now. Mothers need not apply ... come to think of it, sounds like the perfect job description for a man .....



Have a Happy Mother's Day!






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