It would be easier to arrange an audience with the Pope.

Yesterday, I had the great joy* of getting my Texas driver's license. Don't tell Chuck Norris that I waited this long, because (according to the Texas DMV web site) I was only given 30 days after moving to Texas to complete this process. I'm not sure what they do to you if you don't get your license within the allotted time frame, but I'm not going to turn myself in and find out!

And so, at 8:00 in the morning, I drove to the DMV (about 15 minutes away) armed with my social security card, my (still valid) Alabama driver's license, my marriage certificate, my college transcript, and the insurance and registration for my car. I waited in line for about 20 minutes so that I could take a number and sit down. When I got to the front of the line, a lady hands me a form and asks me, "Where's your birth certificate?"

I feel like I looked at her blankly for almost 5 minutes. She asked so matter-of-factly, like it was something EVERYONE knew to bring with them to switch your license from one state to the next. I wish I had asked her where HER birth certificate was. I haven't a clue where mine is. So I told her that I didn't have it. She asked me for my passport. This was yet another thing I didn't think of bringing with me, especially considering I had my SOCIAL SECURITY CARD and DRIVER'S LICENSE. She looks at me, hands full of various papers detailing who I am, and says, as if I am not-so-bright: "Well, we need identification."

Duh. Stupid me. I went all the way to the DMV, and the only identification I brought with me was a driver's license, a social security card, a marriage license, a college transcript, a handful of credit cards, my library card, and my Red Cross Blood Type card. Silly me. I should have known they wanted identification.

And, by the way, this information is posted NOWHERE in the room where you have to wait in line to get a number so you can wait in line 2 more times. 

I drove home, got my friggin' passport, and drove back to the DMV. I took a number (61) and felt somewhat encouraged, as the screen said, "Now serving 53." I figured my turn would be coming up reasonably soon. Apparently, the DMV is the place where I become the stupidest person on the planet.

Two hours later...the lady takes my picture (while talking on her cell phone), hands me a piece of paper to sign, and waves me away with the bleakest, most monotone "Have a nice day" you can possibly imagine. I'll get my license in 2 weeks.

*The phrase "great joy" here means, "harrowing, mind-numbing, and all-around ghastly task"

A Contest!

Hello, faithful readers. Yes, all three of you.

I have been approached by several different people, all with the same (ridiculous) question: when are you going to write a book about your teaching experience? My reply, until recently, has been "not anytime soon," mainly because I felt like people were putting me on. I mean, who the heck wants to read a book about how much my job sucked? Yeah, that's what I thought.

Anyway, I've actually been considering the possibility of writing this book recently. I have some extra time on my hands, and I swear people keep asking me about it, so maybe I'll just do it.

"Yes, but you said something about a CONTEST," you might say. Indeed I did. Here's the deal. I need a title for my book. My book about teaching eighth grade English for one year. I thought of "The Inferno," but that one has, apparently, been taken. Damn you, Dante.

The person who comes up with the best title will receive a FREE copy of my book. Assuming I write it, of course. If I don't write it, the person who comes up with the best title gets to live life as an amazingly witty person. And really, isn't that reward enough?

I may not actually USE your title (or I might - I'm crazy like that), but my hope is that I'll get some interesting submissions at the very least. Submit as many titles as you want. Have fun!