Alabama DMV, Part II

Jeff and I went to the DMV at our appointed time on October 1 and were both seen by a State Trooper examiner almost immediately - woohoo for making appointments!

My examiner and I had an almost instant rapport. She was an Arizona native who moved to Alabama 14 years ago, and of course I'm an expat from the DC area, so we bonded over the absurdity that is Alabama. She reviewed my documents - birth certificate, social security card, Virginia driver's license, Costco card (seriously, can't make this stuff up) - and declared I was, indeed, who I said I was. I told her that even though I had been gone from Alabama for over 20 years, I still remembered my old license number - was it still available? She checked, and it was; ah, the bitter-sweetness of having a photographic memory - can't forget anything damnit. Then she gave me the eye test. Oops. Not a good idea since I couldn't see the eye chart. I was all like, "I, um, think that's a 3? No? 8?" and she was all like, "No. Try again." Crap. I was thinkin that maybe this was all going downhill rapidly so I blurted out, "I swear to you I have an eye exam later this afternoon and will be getting new glasses!" to which she replied, "Well, I'll issue you your license, but you CANNOT drive until you get your eyes examined." I promised her I wouldn't drive and would absolutely get my eyes examined.

And so I did. I went to an optometrist that afternoon, picked out my new totally fabulous glasses, had the eye exam, and heard these words: "Ms. Murphy, you have cataracts in both eyes, but your left eye is especially worse. Your vision is almost totally obstructed, and I can't issue you a prescription for glasses until you have cataract surgery." Well, hell. No wonder I can't see. He went on to recommend an ophthalmologist who had "great success" in performing cataract surgery, and Jeff made me the appointment right then (it won't be until the end of October, because apparently every single professional in this area wants you to mull over your sins for a month before they see you).

Meanwhile, should I choose to go vote, I have a valid Alabama driver's license. Can't drive but I can vote thank-you-very-much. And voting by people like me is what Alabama politicians most dread; after all, the Legislature just closed multiple driver's license offices across the state with more closings due in January (unless something changes, by January the only DMV offices left will be in 4 cities: Mobile, Montgomery, Birmingham and Huntsville; this means anyone living outside these cities - and there are many such people - are pretty much screwed as far as "easily" obtaining a driver's license or State-required ID for voting). So watch out Alabama: there are more and more progressives livin in this state, and we vote. The times they are a'changin!

True Confession: I Killed a Peacock

The Deep South is full of ghosts, and if you haven't seen or heard one while living here, you ain't payin attention.

Today for no reason I flashed back to about 1973 when I was 19 and an idiot. I had a date with Stuart who was Dick's cousin who was my best friend from elementary school's boyfriend (now husband). Dorothy, my bff, had set the whole date thingy up, and we went out to Ramer where Dick and Stuart's families had farms. The guys fixed us drinks: orange juice and vodka, and drink we did!

As the evening wore on we climbed a fire tower. Seemed like an excellent idea at the time. Except I have severe acrophobia. The higher we climbed the more uneasy I felt. Plus did I mention we were drinkin? The wind blew, the tower swayed, my stomach lurched. Uh oh. Luckily for everyone else, I didn't hurl my dinner up, but then I was faced with a quandary: how the hell do I get off this tower? Anyone with acrophobia knows that we can climb up with just a tad of uncomfortableness since we aren't looking down. But climbing down you're, uh, looking down, and that ain't a comforting picture. I can't recall how I made it off the tower, but obviously I did, but I was left woozy. Okay the booze also left me woozy, but the fear of heights just kicked my ass worse!

As we were walking back to the house from the tower, we walked through an old rural cemetery. Stuart said he didn't feel well and was going back to the house while we explored. Dick felt it was time then to tell me the legend of a guy who had died violently and still haunted the cemetery when out of the dark loomed a white-figured apparition. I screamed my fool head off, heart beating uncontrollably and realized everybody else was snickerin. Damnit - fooled by Stuart as the ghost and Dorothy and Dick's abetting.

That was two instances in one night of abject terror for me - first the tower, then the ghost. Since everything happens in 3s to me, I thought, "What the hell's next?"

I didn't have long to wait. Dick fixed us yet more drinky winkies, and we went out the back door of his home to walk around the pond in the back. We were laughing at how gullible I was and just havin a hoot of a good time when all of the sudden a creature from the black lagoon rose slowly out of the darkness. HOLY SHIT WHAT FRESH HELL IS THIS??? I screamed, fell backwards, and the creature also screamed but flew forwards, straight into the inky black water. Dorothy told me that the "creature" was a peacock - a prized peacock no less - and that they think I killed it.

Now to be fair, it almost killed me. Just sayin. But I was horrified, truly. Both that it rose out of the darkness like Satan himself and that I may have contributed to its untimely demise.

The next morning Stuart called me and said that indeed, the peacock had died and did I want to go out with him Friday? Oh shit. Mortified, I couldn't even think about going out with him again so soon and couldn't bear the thought of facing him if/when Friday's conversation turned back to the peacock. I said I'd think about it, never heard from him again, and he ended up marrying a former classmate of mine (good choice on his part - I didn't really like her much in school, but I knew that she would never, ever kill a peacock, and she wasn't an idiot).

Now that I've confessed to this heinous deed 40 some odd years after the fact, will the ghosts and the peacock please leave me alone? We'll see :D. Oh, by the way, it took me years before I could drink orange juice again without gagging, and I've never had another oj/vodka since that night. I'm not a total idiot.

Driver's Licenses in Alabama

So. The first week of September the Old Man and I went to register for homestead exemption in Alabama. The clerk said that was cool, "I need to see your driver's licenses." We handed her our Virginia licenses, and she said, "You can't register for homestead exemption unless you have Alabama licenses." Um, okay.

So we went to the DMV. The clerk said, "You can't get a state-transferred license here. You have to go to the State Trooper's office on Church Street. You also have to have your birth certificates and social security cards." Um, okay. We finally had both of our birth certificates after discovering Jeff couldn't find his and we ordered a certified copy from his state of birth back in August. But then Jeff looked in his wallet for his social security card, and nada. Seriously? Dude!

So we went to the social security office, waited an hour to see a clerk, and finally placed an order for a replacement card, and headed to the Trooper's office on Church Street.

The clerk on Church said, "We aren't accepting any more appointments today." It was 10:00 a.m. Um, okay. She followed up by saying, "You need to make an appointment online, unless you want to take a chance and form a line at 6:00 tomorrow morning, and even then it's not guaranteed." Um, okay.

We went home and I got online and I made us both an appointment - first available appointments are in October. Meanwhile, Jeff's replacement social security card was delivered, and as I handed it to him, I said, "DO NOT LOSE THIS CARD!" He grimaced, mumbled he wouldn't, and disappeared into his sanctuary: his bathroom. Uh huh. We'll see if he can hang onto it...!

Meanwhile Alabama is set to shutter in October and January all driver's licenses offices with the exception of four cities: Huntsville, Birmingham, Montgomery and Mobile. Here's my question: if it took us over a month to get an appointment at our local DMV, what's going to happen to all the poor souls in rural counties who will be bombarding one of the four remaining DMVs? Before you think, damn, what a hassle, it ain't just a hassle; this affects voting rights, as well. Alabama has a voter ID law in place; if it takes months to get a driver's license and/or state issued ID, how will that affect voter registration, not to mention jury duty and insurance rates (after all, if many of the drivers on state roads are unlicensed, this is sure to impact insurance rates). Wow. Welcome to Alabama, y'all.

Finally Moved, Finally Back on the Computer to Record My Observations!

Well, gee, I didn't mean to be away from the 'puter for so long, wow! I've had internet access through my iPad, but my chubby fingers can't type long passages on that device, and my desktop computer wasn't hooked up to cable because the damn cable guy installed the outlet in the wrong room. Okay, I know I shoulda been watchin him, but he came out to the house at the same time the appliance guys showed up and my attention was deeply divided - I really, really wanted the refrigerator and washer/dryer to be up and running and quite simply forgot about the cable guy so a new cable guy came to the house yesterday and fixed us right up, thank goodness, 'cause I was gettin mighty frustrated with not havin my 'puter.

Obviously we've made it into our new home. My hubby picked the house while I was still back in the DC area, and while I saw the interior shots, I had no idea what the home was really like. It's beautiful, no doubt, and plenty roomy, but each time we leave the house it inspires me to sing "Little Boxes" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2_2lGkEU4Xs heh heh. This is a newish development with a diverse community in the Heart of Dixie, so woohoo to diversity but boohoo to non-diversity in the choice of homes in the 'hood.

We're close but not right next to one of the boundaries of Redstone Arsenal, which is not too uncommon since Redstone is huge. We've discovered that Redstone likes to blow stuff up. Not sure what exactly they blow up but every day for the last three weeks two to three times a day explosion(s) shake the house and a loud "boom" is heard. And this doesn't even include all the shootin they do over there. Not sure what they're shootin at either, come to think of it. Anyway, we apparently live in a war zone and it ain't too peaceful. Welcome to Alabama, yeehaw!

Since our priorities at first were to find Costco and a holistic pet food place and an organic grocery store (hey! Costco has lots of organics, much to our delight), we scoped those out first and everything else will be on an as-needed basis. In other words I'm still shoppin out of the internet for things like coconut milk which I use in place of regular milk and cream and by "use" I mean for baking and making cream sauces and using in my morning coffee and making yogurt with and ice cream in the summer. And it can't be any kind of coconut milk, it's got to be Aroy-D, which is a Thai milk that comes in boxes and has absolutely no additives whatsoever. Just 100% coconut milk. We found one Asian grocer so far (google lists three in this area) but it didn't sell Aroy-D. Our hunt continues....

Southern hospitality: I gotta admit that we continue to be blown away by the courtesy of all those peeps we've encountered here. Beyond nice and compassionate - they've all gone the extra mile to ensure we found what we needed. And if not found, the apologies came in droves. I had forgotten about this part of Southernness; Jeff told me they're all like me: chat chat chat with everybody, always sayin "thank you" and "please" and "let me get that for you" and "yes ma'am" and "no ma'am" and, well, you get the picture. They also love the elderly. While I don't really, truly, think of Jeff and I as elderly - we're just older than dirt thankyouverymuch - we are, um, a hell of a lot older than the young peeps who are clerkin in the stores. They bend over backwards to make sure we're doin okay, and I happen to enjoy that. A lot. Like, a whole buncha lot. We also get senior discounts automatically (note: most senior discounts start at age 65, which we haven't reached...yet) because all old people look old, and they all ask if we have a military id so we can get that discount, too. I have an expired military card, and they accept it because "if you've served our country, you get a discount!" Well, alrighty then, who am I to argue?! The reason I mention the discounts is because in the DC area even if you looked like you were 100 yrs old and even if you were in a military uniform, you still wouldn't get a discount unless you asked for it. Oh, the signs announcing the discounts were on the establishment's wall next to the cash register, but the clerks wouldn't give it to you unless you got down on your knees and begged and pleaded and cried. And sometimes not even then. Yeah, life is different down here.

One thing that has really irked the shit out of me, though, has been the sales tax. It's 9% here. Nine percent! In Virginia it's 4%, and considering we've had to buy some major purchases, 9% is a huge chunk of money. I'm pretty certain that the reason for the high sales tax is that property taxes are low, so the state's gotta recoup that money somehow and sales tax seems to be the way. Personally I'm thinkin that seniors need to get a discount on the sales tax, too; after all, haven't we paid enough in taxes over the course of our lives? Must make a note to lobby the state legislature re this....

Speaking of the state legislature, the elections were horrifying last week. Ain't nobody bein elected here but the conservatives. Now, if I thought any of 'em had a plan, I wouldn't be bitchin 'bout it, but no plan except to privatize everything in sight and open up the wilderness to loggin and minin and drillin. Not a peep as to renewable energy (in this election), but every campaign ad did use the word "liberal" as a slur and claimed that the conservatives were saving the state from all the damage the liberals had done. So I'm sittin there watchin, thinkin, "Wait, what?" You mean like civil rights? or LGBT equal rights? or Clean Air & Water regs? or, well, what?" I shouted at the tv that Alabama had to be forced by court order to do the right thing and liberals had nothin' to do with it since the courts determined that each law was Constitutionally valid but conservatives had everything to do with noncompliance. I fully expect to be screamin at the tv a lot in the coming days. And writing my duly elected politicians short, sweet letters 'splain' 'bout leading Alabama into the 21st century and beyond. And callin' 'em all up on the phone and 'splainin' even further. Or, hell, I may just visit 'em and 'splain in person. Sweetly and gently, don'tyouknow.

So that's it for now. Lovin' the people, hatin' the politics. Not too shabby for a returning ex-pat.

T-2 Days

We're moving Wednesday, which means all this accumulated junk we've got has to be either recycled, packed or given away by tomorrow <gulp>, and I've barely begun packing because...I work better under pressure? I feel lonely without clutter? I live to piss Jeff off???

I'm so excited about leaving and touring the Appalachians on our way down south that now my stomach hurts and I've kind of gotten ridiculously neurotic, more so than normal, and for anyone who knows me well, knows that's a heap of crazy. Do y'all ever get that way, kind of like when you know you have to go to the dentist and the days just drag on until you can go and then you're all like damn, I just want this over with! Yeah, that's how I am now, only it's certainly not the dentist and I really am looking forward to seeing the changing of the leaves on those mountains and I really am excited that The Minions will soon be able to run, run, run in their own backyard and damn! did I mention my new kitchen will be roomy so that I can go back to baking bread like I used to do and try new culinary concoctions full of garlic and onion and cheese which are my three very favorite veggies and protein in the world and that we'll be kinda sorta near a couple of rivers or tributaries or streams or sumthin that I haven't quite figured out yet 'cause we're not down there yet so I don't know what in the hell those bodies of water are called but water! Bike rides! Sightseeing! What's not to love?

Two days, y'all! Now I gotta go pack. For realz~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Tryin to Move

My husband, Jeff, informed me way back in August that he was being transferred to Huntsville, Alabama, and I had to go with him. I thought, Huntsville? Alabama? What the hell? 'cause I swore I'd never, ever return to Alabama. As in never. Oh, life, what a hoot and a holler you are.

So I immediately googled things that are important to me, like organic foods and my beauty suppliers (I'm a licensed esthetician and make up artist, along with being a certified aromatherapist and herbalist. Organic's a must, beauty supplies at wholesale prices, a must). Much to my delight, Huntsvull's got both my supply stores and an organic grocery store and a ton of local farmers. Well, duh. It is the Deep South after all, where agriculture's a way of life for many.

Anyway, I was really excited 'bout my fabulous luck. So then I was like, hmmm, but what about housing? So I googled homes for rent. Oh oh oh, look at all the homes for rent at really affordable prices! Since we've been in the Washington, DC, area for 14 years now, I can assure you that ain't nuthin up here affordable nor often available, so alrighty then, Huntsvull's got another plus.

Moving date: when's the move? Jeff hemmed and hawed and I cussed and insisted we needed a firm date 'cause I had shit to do, like tell the post office and tell the utility companies and tell the IRS so they don't think we'll be leavin' 'em high and dry tax-wise and tellin' the insurance company 'cause they make a lot of money off of us and I didn't want them to worry, either. Jeff announced he'd make a trip to Huntsvull and let me know. So he did, and he found us a beautiful home with a fenced-in yard for the Minions and plenty of space for me to get my creative bent goin and a fabulous untouched backyard where I can plant herbs and veggies and a rose bush or two and the rent will be $1,000 a month less than what we're payin right now for a tiny 2-bedroom apartment, so I quit cussin.

Now it's two weeks before movin day, and we just got a quote each from two moving companies, both of whom work closely with Jeff's company so we know they're reliable and trustworthy and will actually deliver our furniture when they say they will and won't hold it hostage - 'cause I've been readin horror stories 'bout movers holding furniture hostage. The first company quoted us what we thought was an extraordinarily high sum. The second company was $2400 cheaper. So I started thinkin, why the huge disparity between those companies' quotes? and then it hit me: the first company also does a lot of business movin around military families and gets paid by the federal government - they have zero incentive to negotiate a reasonable, fair price. The second company moves all the rest of us who aren't soldiering and thus is far more affordable. So we chose the second company but of course and now I'm starin at all the crap I gotta pack up. And prograstinatin 'cause who wants to pack when there's the internet in which to google and bookmark Huntsvull's local farmers and craft stores and quilt shops and Lowe's and appliance stores and furniture stores 'cause I never know when I'll need 'em. And hey! I already signed us up for electricity and gas and water in Huntsvull and scheduled the cable guys, so honestly my work's kinda/sorta mostly over anyway, right?