SIRIous Business

We're BAAAACK!

Being new (again) to California, Mustache Man and I had to get our car registered and new driver's licenses this week. Today we went to the DMV. In Arizona it's called the MVD, which I never got used to. So I'm back home, without any vowels. And it was the usual madhouse that I remember from the days before Al Gore invented the internet and you could do everything online. But, being new to the state (again), we had to go IN to get established as permanent, law-abiding, tax-paying, recycled residents of Jerry Brown's California. Even with an appointment the line to get our pictures taken was loooong.

We both had to take a written test which was totally unexpected and extremely unstudied for. What the?!? I've been driving for a hundred years. What could I possibly not know? We both barely passed. And FYI, it is illegal to drive with a "blood alcohol concentration" that is higher than .08. I did not know that. So, no more driving for me after 11am. I suspected the long line was because of New Guy. New Guy was having a hard day. I really felt for him. We've all been there, right? No one wants to be New Guy. And Ready For Retirement Lady was barely giving him minimal help. The Waiting In Line people were getting restless. And the Mustache and I, being the codependent, make-everyone-happy, proactive people that we are, felt we had to do something about it.

hey SIRI, how you doin'?

We heard a lot of numbers being called over the PA by the automated pre-recorded voice of a woman. "Number B104 will now be served at window 34." Picking up on this, Mustache and I, we say out loud, "this female voice making the announcements? She should really be a SIRI." She would say "If you have numBER BEE. one. OH. four. please go TO window numBER thirTEE-four. She could even be interactive. She'd make wisecrack comments about people who go to the wrong window or have a pouty face. "Hey, you IN the YELLow jacKET. You are at the wrong winDOW. Are you stuPID?" and "Hey, I don't LIKE your attiTUDE. Go to the END of the LINE." All in that monotone she's so fond of. Everyone would be afraid to do anything wrong and get called out by SIRI. She'd make farting sounds right before the camera shot your picture just to make you smile weird. Or comment on what you're wearing. "That purple puke jacKET is not IN your COlor WHEEL, girlFRIEND." There's no end to what a SIRI could do at the DMV. She could even ride along for your driving test. "Turn left at the NEXT corner. I said left. LEFT. YOU fail."  ha.ha. This was fun. The Waiting In Line people became engaged. They threw out ideas for a funny SIRI comments. It was great. Plus it was G-rated. Nice.

it's raining money!

"But why stop here?", we say as we walk across the parking lot to find our car, which now has to be smog-emission tested for our new state and returned to the DMV for verification within 60 days. Mustache Man and I think we should sell this SIRI idea to the Department of Transportation (a government entity who will, of course, build our business) and we'd make a virtual killing. We'd call it, "SIRIously??" Okay. Who wants in?

Calling All Moms

I read another great post today from one of my all-time favorite blogs called Mammalingo, entitled, "A Letter To My Sons, Take Two". Mammalingo is a trip and a half. I love her. We don't agree on everything which is cool because I can always catch a glimpse of someone else's take on things whilst enjoying the dollop of humor she inevitably plops on top. Make that a BIG dollop.

Today she shared some sage advice in a letter to her sons as they grow into strapping young men. I encourage you to read it. Good stuff. But it was her last bit that made me, at first, chuckle to myself and then gulp down the muddy lump that suddenly developed in my throat and made it hard to breathe for just a moment. Her advice? "oh yeah. Call your mother."

The reality of our sons growing up and moving on and totally forgetting (certainly not refusing?) to call their moms is just all too... REAL. It's as if these kids of ours think a stork really did deliver them and then, as soon as they get a taste of independence, (or fall in love with another woman besidesyou)<;they just don't seem to want their mom around... hovering

so what's the problem?

When my son moved away from home at the age of eighteen to attend a school of ministry, it wasn't so far away that his dad and I couldn't visit every now and again. And we did. And it was great. And when we would leave I'd always remind him to call his mom. "Don't forget to call your mom!". blah blah blah. yeah yeah yeah. He took it all in stride and I did get a couple calls out of that effort. Then I decided to leave a more creative reminder for him. haha. Funny mom. It was a non-toxic, car-safe, window paint reminder, correctly and very neatly spelled backwards on his car's rear window. How cute is that? Look in the rearview mirror. hahaha. No? For some reason, my son did NOT think this was funny. At all. Not even a little bit. I didn't find this out until later, when the calls stopped all together, but I had think embarrassed him in front of his fellow students. What? But yeah, I did, and yes, I did feel badly. Really badly. But fer cryin' out loud, how does a mother know when what used to be funny just isn't funny anymore? And then, no calls at all? Bah! Maybe he just "forgot". Probably. Maybe. Ya know, you raise your kids to be strong and wise and independent and what happens when they go ahead and do all that? They drop you like yesterday's news. This is tough stuff. And that is probably a really appropriate metaphor. But seriously, isn't that what they are supposed to do? And if we don't feel some kind of gutting then maybe we're doing it wrong. And we're moms. We really don't want to do it wrong. (even though we often do)

I hope Mammalingo's sons call her, though. I really do. At least with the good important stuff. Like what they had for lunch that day. I hope they do.

oh and p.s. My son is in his 30s and still not so good at calling. So I moved in with him. Problem solved.