A Sad Week

Some of you may already know that my mother passed away last week. I was with her when her time came, and there is a lot to take in. I'll post again in a couple of days, but I just needed to take a little break while I process it all. You can read her obituary at D.O. McComb and Sons.

I Break for Birds

One benefit to our recent relocation is I have a better bird-watching perch. I find that when I need to think, I tend look out the window, often at nothing at all. I'm not sure why, but it just feels good. But I must say, it's definitely better to have a little natural drama to zone out to. At the old house, we had a bird feeder to watch, but it was in a flower bid in our front yard, outside the living room—not particularly conducive to taking pictures or journaling. Too much traffic to make the little tweeters comfortable enough to stay awhile. What I really need is a sanctuary so I can let my brain relax and wander through my character sketches and plots with a little bit of nature to inspire me.

So now, I have a chair on the back patio always waiting for me. I settle down into my cheap Walmart camp chair with Ghost Hunk's Nikon with the extra cool lenses...and wait...and think...and prewrite. Eventually, I'll have a little birding journal, but for now I guess I'll just play the voyeur. To the birds, only! My little oasis helps me clear my head and focus my thoughts so I can write. I don't know how it works, but it does. Love those birds!

The Incredible Disappearing Woman.

How did this happen? What about that strong, independent chick who bought her first house at 24 and ruled her world as a single woman? She is still in here somewhere, but the DMV ain't gonna find her!

Yes, today I had to relinquish my PA driver's license so I could officially join the ranks of the South. I thought I had it all dialed in:

• PA driver's license — check
• birth certificate — check
• marriage license (yes, I actually thought to bring that!) — check
• the power bill with our new address on it — check...sort of.
  

The problem is that the name on our power bill is Ghost Hunk's, not mine.  In fact, none of the bills have my name on them — not the phone bill or the trash bill or the cell bill.  My name is not even on the lease! (At least my credit won't get hit if Ghost Hunk misses a payment!) So I'm looking at the DMV clerk behind the counter and trying to figure out what the hell happened to Ghost Girl?  

I do have my own bank account (as every woman should), and a statement would suffice, but I get my statements online (Go Green!).  I don't even have that in print!  Well, I'll chance it.  Yes, I drive all the way home (in the next county), scramble to find my power cord and USB cable for the stupid printer which hasn't been set up yet because my desk still hasn't arrived...

Sigh.

I print out my first statement (at this point, it's all I have), grab every piece of correspondence I have from the bank, and head back down to the DMV.  Totally sugar-deprived, mind you.  I haven't had lunch yet, and my blood sugar is taking a nose dive.  I pity the person who crosses me now!

I get to the DMV, where a handful of people has grown into a full-fledged throng in the hour it took me to get my crap together. I finally get up to the clerk and...the computers are down!  But somewhere in cyberspace, the binary gods take pity on me and the computers come up about 10 minutes later.  

After a few furrowed brows and a final "ok," my documents are deemed acceptable, and I get my friggin' GA license!

But who is that wide-eyed chick staring up from the drab blue square, looking half baked?  A married mother of 2 who somewhere along the way sacrificed perhaps a bit too much of herself for her own comfort.  20 years ago, my name was on a mortgage, a credit card, a bank account, a car loan, a payroll...  Now, I just feel a bit pathetic.  I guess next time I have to prove myself, I'll just have to take in my latest best seller with my stunning jacketflap photo and say, "There you go.  100% guaranteed legitimate woman.  That's me!"

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