The last time my driver's license expired we were on a journey of sorts, making our long way back home from a distant foreign country where we found ourselves exiled from our Motherland and separated from our young. I was nervously dependent on my passport to get me through the endless cattle-like lines at customs and questioning from agents.
Just kidding. We went on vacation to Jamaica and I totally spaced renewing before we left. We made the return trip on my birthday.
By the time I dragged my criminally tardy self to the licensing office and sheepishly presented my lame excuse to the clerk, I had gained back all the weight I had lost on my pre-vacation dual quest to 1) slim down for swimwear and 2) possibly not be a liar about the weight on my ID for once.
After showing up at the resort I had quickly assessed that NONE of the people from the brochures actually hang out there, but rather there roams about a mixed bag of 80 year-old paunchy Europeans who are, by sheer lack of tan lines, proud to display ALL of their heritage. Especially the saggy parts of their heritage which fit ever-so-gingerly into a g-string...which apparently originated from the French for "Grandma-string" and "Grandpa-string". Who knew?
Realizing I'd worried about my figure for naught, I let my hair down and had a good time where food and drink were concerned.
My saving grace at the DMV was the clerk, that beautiful, gracious clerk who happens to be on our Christmas card list. She heard my plea for leniency and my promise to get right on losing the weight in order to make what was currently in print more truthful in order to not bump up my number, and then she went a step further. A step that is so appreciated and unheard of in DMV-Lady land. She took a second picture in order to rid me of my double chin, complete with instruction on how to position myself for maximum reduction of same. In the process we got the giggles over the whole thing because in order to perform the correct stance you're required to look idiotic.
This is one HUGE perk to living in a small town. There may be no recreational activities, no opera, no anonymity. But there IS the DMV Lady. It's worth it.
That was 4 years ago, so alas my 'new' ID is expiring again and I'm reminded that we haven't had a real vacation in far too long. Just when I was panicking about making good on my promise to make my numbers match (I know there's no scale, but there's enough difference someone could eyeball me without being a carnival weight-guesser and know I'm a liar) a letter showed up advising I could renew by mail and not have to head in for a face-to-face. But just this time.
There is a God. Yes, please.