Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Gritty Labor of Love

Readers will recall that last week, the CQ attempted to go to AAA to handle DMV matters on behalf of the Naval Crab. Lacking her Power of Attorney and the stupid notice from the DMV meant that the CQ had to schlep a second time.

So, yesterday, after enjoying a delicious cup of my Starbucks delight courtesy of Patty Lisa Triplets (who not only fetched and bought but also ordered and endured the order recitation by the barista) and a quick conversation before my advocate called and interrupted my slice of normalcy -- LLGA, GMK and I loaded up in the van once more to conquer the last remaining "do-for-honey" list item: Get the CR-V tags their 2010 sticker.

It is worth noting that the CQ's strong preference was for the Naval Crab to handle this issue hisownself; however, Big (Bad) Navy foiled my plot by delaying the man in VA. Tags expire 6-12 so off we went -- at least one of us with a begrudging attitude.

I presented myself, my AAA card, copies of Ben's ID/Driver's license/IL military deferment card, a special non-resident military waiver, a POA, the stupid DMV notice, and a check. I felt almost good.

Right up until the clerk pointed to a small, never-noticed-before phrase, "SMOG CHECK VERIFICATION REQUIRED".

SAND! I've never (in all my years in CA) needed to get a smog check.

AAA guy and I determined that he may as well process my payment so that I wouldn't risk a late fee and then I could "QUICKLY" (his word) "zip" (my word) back in to show the smog pass and retrieve the sticker. Yes, readers, this paragraph is a blatant, unflinching example of ominous foreshadowing. Sometimes a door is a door, a window is a window, and signs of future pain and suffering are there to be seen, registered, and feared.

Having not driven the potentially smog-creating vehicle from the beach to the mesa, we careened back to the Castle -- one of us (guess which!) in an increasingly foul mood. The mood was not enhanced by the GMK-car-game of "let's spy the most inconvenient Smog Test stations possible".

Home to transfer the stroller, the diaper bag, the paperwork, and the baby to the other vehicle. AH, but first, said baby had a dirty diaper. This added minutes to the transfer process and took another hour off my lifespan. And she was now awake for the rest of the morning. My dreams of multiple errands completed faded.

We went to the most logistically-convenient station, which GMK had insisted "looked closed and no longer in business". Except that it was testing one vehicle with another waiting. Having zero confidence that going elsewhere would save us time, we stayed put. About 40 minutes later, we were on our way back to AAA -- evidence of passing the test in hand and $64 less in the bank.

I pull into the parking space, change yet another dirty diaper (she was on a mission to ensure my morning was completely painful), and sashay into the AAA office.

WHAT in the SAND?! There's a line to get to receptionist. Nearly every DMV-waiting seat is filled. When I get to the receptionist, I tried the "I only need to flash this proof of passage and receive my sticker...is this line really my destiny?" and was told, with an abject lack of humor, "Yes".

Thirty-five minutes later, while GMK was holding LLGA in the evil, wicked, loathsome CR-V, I was finally called. Less than 50-seconds (I counted in my head to keep from crying tears of frustration) later I was out the door.

And it was time to Race Charlie Home. We won. I slapped the bright yellow, 1-1/2" sticker on the plate in disgust.

The Naval Crab best not say word-one about any aspect of Homecoming. This feat shall serve as my big "Welcome Home" sign.

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