4th time's a charm

Pay stub in hand, I headed back to the DMV to try yet again to get this dreaded WI license. It was eerily quiet in the building, and although I had to wait in line to get a number for a few minutes, things went relatively smoothly. The lady looked through my documents. Pay stub....ok. Birth certificate....ok. Social Security Card....ok. Old license.....ok. I got my number, which was immediatly called and headed to counter #2. They lady took my stuff and as I got out my checkbook to pay the $18 I realized I had used my last check on Sunday to write a check. CRAP. So I tell the lady I need to use the ATM machine, which is conveniently in the waiting room, and go get some cash. She didn't seem to happy about this, but then, I don't think she was happy about anything. She took my papers and had me sign something then sent me off to have my picture taken. She gave me a "receipt", which will serve as my license for the next 10 days until my official one is mailed to me. Hopefully I don't need to prove my ID in the next 10 days, as it says in large print on this receipt, "DOES NOT PROVE IDENTIFICATION". Great, so what exactly does it prove? Anyway, I was in and out in about 15 minutes and I didn't have to swear. Good times.

Check out the super awesome Jello thingie I made for Memorial Day. It looked pretty cool, although it didn't taste as good as it looked. (In my opinion.)



I then went on a hunt for Mason jars, which I found at Goodwill. They have really cute pink plaid lids. Score. I thouroughly scrubbed and sanitized them, don't worry. My pickles will be perfect in their new pristine place. :) They are currently in stage one of their pickling process: cut up with onions, tossed with kosher salt and ice cubes, and hanging out in the fridge. Tomorrow they get cooked with all sorts of goodies and then canned. Something I've never tried, and something I hope I don't screw up. I'll save some in a tupperware, just in case, so I'll at least have some to eat when they're done (another 24 hours after cooking). Derrick says he'll try one of mine, which is a momentous occassion, and one where pictures must be taken to prove it really happened. Pickles are my passion, and it pains me that their presence in our palace plagues him so. :)

Is anyone watching the show On the Lot? I actually like it. Maybe I like watching the mini movies they make. It's pretty neat, I might actually vote next week. We'll see.

I woke up to the doorbell ringing this morning. At 10:45. Yes, I was still asleep at that hour. I know you're jealous. I thought it was the maintenance man coming to fix our sink stopper. So I threw on some jeans and a t-shirt and ran downstairs to get the door and saw my visiting teacher and her kids. Crap. I forgot. Whoops. We had a nice little visit, and her kids looked sorta bored so I pulled out the only kid friendly stuff I have, Barrel of Monkeys, Colorforms, and crayons and paper, and gave it to them. They dump EVERYTHING out on my living room floor, walk all over the boxes, breaking them AND crayons in the process, and start playing. I'm okay with this really, so long as they're not doing any real damage. Although I am a little peeved that they broke crayons. I love my crayons. But I remind myself they're just crayons, and forget about it. We reach the end of the lesson and the gathers her kids and leaves. SHE LEFT THIS HUGE MESS ON MY LIVING ROOM FLOOR. Really, I don't know what she was thinking when she saw it. That I wouldn't mind cleaning it up? That her kids are too little to clean it up? (They're not) That it's my fault b/c I got the stuff out? I don't really know. She probably didn't even give it a second thought. Still, I was annoyed, and I wrote a note in my mental "When I'm a Parent" book: My kids will clean up after themselves at other people's homes. Sheesh.

Tomorrow night is YW Standards Night on modesty. Somehow I got roped into singing, solo, a song from Shrek. I hate singing, especially by myself. Why? Because I CAN'T sing. Seriously. I hate singing in choirs, quartets, whatever. I don't even get music to sing along to, which is even worse. Really, I feel sorry for the audience. Yikes. At least I get to wear my wedding dress, which will be fun. I'm just hoping I fit into it....