i bought my car from me back in july. long story but in the final shakedown it meant i got new  plates. back in july, did i mention that already? since then i have been carrying them around in my purse bc the bolts on the old ones were apparently NOT rustproof and have embedded [i am sooooo glad newscasters quit using that word] themselves into my car. got the plastic plate covers off by sheer brute force but there was no moving the plates themselves.

so for six months now, when anyone asks for ID they have received a lesson in specificity.

like the postmaster in boulder. who needed an additional form of ID in order for me to mail that package. he was greeted with my birth certificate, social security card, name change decree, a piece of mail AND...... my new plates. he never lost a beat. looked me square in the eye after i was done unloading the contents of my bag and drolly asked, "you gotta blood or urine sample in there too?" ba dum dah. [i had all that other stuff in there bc trying to fly when your ticket does not match your ID is a real pain in the ass and getting a frequent flyer program to change the name on an account is apparently harder than robbing fort knox]

or the waitress that [bless her kind heart] carded me at my ex-favorite mexican restaurant and had to wait patiently as i slapped the same six degrees of ID on the table in my quest into the depths of my suddenly bottomless pit of a purse.

or the first nine cops that pulled me over for expired tags AND unverifiable plates. yes, first nine. that wasnt a typo. nine stops. nine off-scott-frees. nine times of "yes officer, i understand, here's my plates. my tags. my license. my registration. my social security. my name change decree. my firstborn."

until last night and officer-perfect-number-ten pulled me over. on super congested 34th and granby. and i began my shtick. i swear i detected a oscar worthy eyeroll before he turned to walk away from my window and i thought my luck had run out. he was going back for his ticket book! damn! the nerve! silly me. he came back alright....

with a screwdriver.

first nine guys read me the responsibility act. identified the problem. quick to point out what needed doing about it, but didnt step in and commit. and the plates stayed as they were. until the perfect-number-ten came along and did something about the issue. helped. mended. fixed.  [great analogy here --- so great about politics AND, more lightly, romance --- and as a good friend put it so eloquently recently, they are all the wrong ones, maritta, until they arent.] yep. me and the good officer hanging out on the side of the road while i held the flashlight and he man-handled the unscrewjob, changed the plates, stuck the stickers and told me to have a safe trip home.

a refresher course on what love, life and christmas are really all about. doing more. saying less.

my own miracle on 34th street.

getting to know someone is seldom easy. getting reacquainted is also an oddity. to sit across the table from someone and watch interactions with people that they are intimate with. in a platonic intimacy realm. and you realize as well as you know them, there is a limit to how well you can know anyone. really. went out to mean-eyed cat last night. had some true texas mexican at el arroyo. and good laughs. the rest of the crowd could truly do standup. of course the evening would have to come with study notes in order to understand all the jokes. highlights of the evening were someone commenting on weight gain "hello, did you like eat your friend?", dancing. "i hated that guy, all the girls would wait in an hour line so he could [insert finger looping motion] on the dancefloor. and i would have to go stand and talk to bob." previous night someone made the mistake of trying to slam the birthday boy and got caught with a backslap. "who was that saying that?! couldnt possibly be the short, unemployed mexican, could it?" all this flying and me just trying to hang on to parts of the conversation. feeling like an inside outsider. tonight is the elks lodge. cheap burgers and drinks from what i hear. and lots of old guys that call you darlin'. i love austin. lots.

i think its that everyone is truly okay. and that drama is not really life-threatening since in the larger wash of things everyone is accepted at face value. even those that dont really ante up at face value.

chloe and sicily are going to be flying again. and i dont mean the swift kick from the front door to the hallway i sometimes have to fight the urge to commit. i am in NOLA and they are at spa diane in VB. theres some travel time there that i dont think "come on girls" will get them to run. 16 hours by car. $378 by plane. and you get petmiles with continental. wonder if the beverage cart rolls back that way. treats? water? rawhide? having them here will make the move south more real. right now its just two overflowing suitcases perched on the edge of a chair in mom and dads room.

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