I Passed!

I failed.

Huh?

I passed!

I got my motorcycle licence today, but man it was a confusing sort of experience, courtesy of the DMV and a weird little stipulation for the licence which stated that if you haven’t renewed your regular drivers licence within the last year, you also have to take the written test for a car.

What?

No!

I did not know that.

Fuck.

I did not study that booklet.

I got to the DMV with plenty of time to spare and re-read a few things that I figured were going to be on the exam.  I waited patiently for my appointment time to be hollered out by the security cop on premise.

And whoa, there needs to be security cops roving about, there was some serious feelings happening, a few of them were my own by the end of the two hours I was there, a man and a clerk hollering at each other right in front of me, a nosy busybody woman who kept trying to engage with me, until I moved, more than one person getting yelled at in the test area to turn off their phone, not talk, and put away the booklet.

I actually watched one woman get booted from taking the exam as she was consulting her phone, whether or not she was looking for test answers I don’t know, in fact, I don’t think she was.

She was doing what everyone else in line wanted to be doing, checking their phone, because the line for the test was super long.

Not to take it.

Not to take the photograph either.

But to have the test corrected.

I get a head of myself here, just a bit.

Let’s reel back to the sweet gentleman who was helping me, expediting everything really quite quickly, I had hopes of not only getting out in time for work, but getting there maybe even a half hour or so earlier than I had told my employers.

But no, those hopes, dashed.

Before said dashing of hopes I was able to pay all my fees–$33 for the licence itself then another $169 for the registration and taxes on the scooter–I got the sticker, I am the registered owner of a 1965 Vespa, it’s all mine, the title is being transferred from my friend to me and I have the receipt all tucked away in the scooter’s little side compartment should I be stopped before I get the real one in the mail.

First thing I did when I got back to the house was slap that sticker on the license plate of my scooter.

My scooter.

Oh my God.

I have a scooter.

It’s not just some fantasy imagination in my brain, this is all really happening.

The motorcycle safety course, the putting the deposit on it, all of it has felt unreal, surreal, fantasy like, the reality is not reality yet.

But it’s getting there.

After I got the sticker I was routed to take a photograph.

WORST photo ever.

I mean bad, bad, bad, how did I get a double chin in this photo?

How?

I was horrified.

But ultimately, I don’t care.

I know what I look like and it ain’t that bad awful photo on my licence.

No.

I cringed when I got the picture back, but I carried all my paperwork and my receipts and my form from the safety course over to the next contestant on the Price is Right.

Er.

I mean.

The next window of harried DMV worker who really could give a fuck.

She was slow, but had a number of tasks that she was doing, including monitoring the test area–she was the one who kicked the girl out of line for using her phone (she had to turn over all paperwork and was told that she couldn’t come back and take the test for six weeks as a penalty. Damn.) as well as processing the test paperwork and correcting the test.

There were two lines just for her.

And she took her time with it.

Oh yes she did.

When I got to the front of the first line she flipped through my paperwork and handed me the tests I had to take.

I was still miffed to have to take them both, but I shut up about it.

I got two wrong on the motorcycle test.

And four wrong on the automobile test.

One too many.

Fuck me.

I of course did not find this out right away.

I had to wait 45 minutes in the test correcting line to find that out.

By the time I finally got to the front of the line it was almost noon, ie, when I was supposed to be at work and I had not been able to take out my phone and send off a text to let the families know I was still at the DMV.

I did not want to get kicked out for “cheating” with my phone.

I was super upset to find out that I had to retake the test.

At first I was just disconcerted.

She handed me back the automobile test and asked me to answer four more questions on the test.

I apparently did not get them right.

Then she said I could take the test again right then and there, but I would have to get back in line.

I could study over the tests with the correct answers and get another test (they have three different versions of it) and try again.

Should I not answer that one within the limits I would have to have a four-week wait to retake, or something like that, I was too mad to hear exactly what she was saying, it also was made clear, I would have to make an appointment to retake the test on another day, versus just staying put.

But I couldn’t stay put.

I had to go to work.

I was in tears and pissed and it was raining and I texted the families and said I was on my way and on my way I went.

Wet and mad as a doused cat.

Not exactly the best way to show up to work.

I eventually got myself together.

Eating a hot bowl of homemade soup for lunch really helped.

Then I realized I did not have the booklet for the automobile test and I would want it to go back and take the test.

Ugh.

Then in rapid succession things happened.

Fell into place and within a half hour of leaving the house with the boys tucked up into the stroller in rain jackets, I had passed the written for the automobile test at the DMV.

Huh?

The heavens parted, the sun came out, I wheeled the stroller over to Fell Street, the baby fell asleep on the way, I got to the office, grabbed the booklet and saw that there was no line.

NO LINE!

There was also a new woman at the desk for the tests.

I walked over and took out my paperwork and asked and she said, go to it, park the stroller next to you and keep them quiet, she handed me a new test and shooed me off.

A snack cracker for the older boy, confirmation the baby was still asleep, and voila, in five minutes I re-took the test, 100% and was out the door with my paper receipt saying I had passed and my new license with my motorcycle upgrade and horrible photo will be arriving in the mail in the next seven to ten days.

Holy crow.

I was amazed.

Did that just happen?

It did.

I have the paperwork to prove it.

And I took my scooter out for her inaugural run in the park with my friend.

I have a bit of practising to do before I am able to run it around town–it’s not an automatic–and I need to get used to using the clutch, but I am on my way.

Scooter Town USA.

Here I come.

I am still in awe that I actually was able to go back, re-take the test, get 100% and be out the doors of the DMV a half hour after I left the house in Cole Valley pushing a double stroller with two little boys in it.

But I am not going to question it anymore.

It really happened.

I have my license.

It’s on.

Snuggle Puppy

You’re the one.

Snuggle puppy.

Oh so much fun.

Oooohwheeeooooo.

Or something like that.

I have had the lyrics of a Sandra Boynton children’s book in my head all day, it’s not the worst of her books to have in my head, it could be a sheep says ba, a cow says moo, three pigs in a row say la, la, la.  No!  You say, pigs, they say oink.

If you are just now stumbling on my blog you may be wondering what the fuck is this lady on?

I am a nanny, so I often have weird little snippets of songs or lullabies or books in my head, I can pretty much recite Richard Scarry’s “I am a Bunny” from memory, do an almost perfect recitation of Boyton’s “All the Hippo’s go Berserk,” and tell you a fairy tale at the drop of a hat.

I have snuggle puppy on my mind since I got an interesting invitation for a cuddle and a movie from a dear male friend of mine.

We both have been doing the online dating thing, the not dating thing, the what is wrong with dating thing, the I don’t ever want to date again thing, and I was pleasantly surprised when I got the invitation to watch some movies and have a cuddle snack.

Ah, yes please.

I miss having some arms around me, I do.

And cute boy arms, bring it.

I do wonder if snuggling leads to other things.

Like cuddling.

Or.

Hmmm.

Well, I suppose I just wonder.

I am not opposed to other things happening, I am just going to show up and see what happens.

There’s nothing concrete yet, just some flirtatious messaging.

“One day our kids are going to look back and be able to find all the crazy crap with text each other and all the whack porn we look at, and say, wow, Grandpa Billy sure was kinky,” another friend of mine said to me once as we embarked on a brief affair before I left for Paris.

He was also the one who sent me a stick drawing cartoon of a man and woman in bed wherein the stick man says to stick woman, “how was it?”

And she replies, “read my blog.”

I had some trepidations about writing about the movie and cuddle offer, but then hey, what would I be writing about, it’s what I was thinking about today and it put a smile on my face whenever I did.

Knowing there is cute boy snuggling in my future makes a girl smile.

It helps when the day is long and the boys, my charges, are rambunctious.

Plus, it’s just nice to know someone wants to spend time with me, I like that I am thought of as someone who is a value to others, in their lives, socially, or otherwise.

It makes me feel connected, not alone, and loved.

Nothing wrong with feeling loved.

Or getting loved up.

I am down for it.

Plus, I like to reciprocate.

I love to sit next to a friend and give them a hand rub, show some love, reach out and hug someone, be affectionate, cuddle it up.

I need human contact, I am no good without it.

I am forever grateful that I am in the middle of the boat in my community, that I have any time a number of people who I see and can hug, reach out to, call, love on and be loved back.

It’s pretty damn special.

And I don’t have to wait until Burning Man to get it.

I could be getting it this weekend, snuggling that is, if the chips fall out in my favor.

More will be revealed.

Until then I have some studying to do.

Not much, I don’t feel like I need to read the damn hand book much longer, but tomorrow is the deal.  I take the written test at the DMV for my motorcycle licence.

My appointment is at 10:35 a.m.

I have been carrying the hand book with me for the last week, reading it whenever I had a moment.  I get the impression that the things in bold will be the things that are pertinent to the test, and that has been what I have focused on remembering.

I don’t have work until noon, figure I will be done with the DMV within an hour, hour and fifteen at max, I can’t see the written test taking me that long.  I did the one for the motorcycle safety course in about ten minutes, I was the first one out, and I passed just fine.

That is not to say that I won’t take my time and read the questions, it just means that I am good at taking tests, always have been.

I recall taking a test in 6th grade that I was sure I failed and I got 100%.

One of only two kids to actually pass the test, my teacher let me sit in back at his desk and eat M&M’s while the class retook the test.

I was a teacher’s pet, a bit, I suppose you could say.

I don’t recall many tests where I didn’t do well.

Although there is one in recent memory–when I got my drivers license, I just went and took it and I failed the written, I was shocked.

I hadn’t read the booklet and there’s a great deal of difference between the written test for the CA licence then there was for the WI when I took it.

This time I have read the book, a lot.

I don’t care to fail the test and have to take another morning off to go back and take it.

Every time I see someone on a scooter, I think, they did it, so can I.

And do it I will.

Then I shall celebrate.

With some snuggling.

 

 

EVERYTHING IS ANNOYING*

*Written last night, internet down, posting today.

I cannot tell you how many people I called cunt in my head tonight, today, this afternoon, as I rode my bicycle about town.

I suppose it had something to do with having to go to Traffic Court, or it could be that Mercury is rising.

Is that a band name?

I have no idea why I was in a snit, but snit I have been in.

Adding insult to injury, the goddamn Internet is down.

I want a reduction in my utility bill!

That’s where my brain goes first.  Then maybe it goes elsewhere, like, I should just move.  Nothing says dramatic over reaction than that.

I don’t want to move, I do want to get online and the shitty connection is always a little shitty, but I think the landlord has issues with it as well, it’s not like it’s just me.

My perspective is that it’s always about me, I am being thwarted, I shake my hand at the internet gods, get your act together, motherfuckers, I have stuff to do online, blogs to post,  facecrack to troll, videos to download, I have things to do, dontcha know.

Nothing about today seemed to go my way, though, truth be told, and I am a truthful person, nothing really went wrong, it was just a compilation of small annoyances, like that kid in middle school who never has a pencil or a piece of paper or the book for the class and always wants to borrow yours and you just keep handing out the stuff, until you pop the day he asks for a pencil.

That’s what today felt like.

Nothing is wrong, but everything is bugging me.

I know that means I am the asshole, but I could not seem to get out-of-the-way of the thoughts.

And that is just how it goes sometimes, you just have a day, dinner was not great, but I ate, I got a manicure, but they did a crap job, I went to Traffic Court and decided to plead no contest.

I just did not want to have to go to 850 Bryant again.

I was done with it.

I was done with it before I got there even though I was trying to have a good attitude and show up and be polite, which I was, I was nice, no body knew that my brain was eating me alive, I was polite as home-made apple pie with sharp cheddar cheese melted on top and vanilla ice cream on the side.

I mean, polite.

The time at the 850 started with a perspective altering moment and I guess I just keep coming back to that, no matter how off kilter I feel, I was not feeling as off kilter as the woman I ran into in the bathroom at ye olde Hall of Justice.

She was having a bad day.

That’s about all I could surmise, I did not stay to have a conversation about it.

I did think about telling a cop I saw in the hallway, then I was like, isn’t it bad enough, do I need to make her life worse?

It can’t be a good day when you’re naked in the bathroom on the first floor of 850 Bryant.

No need for me to compound it because you and your nakedness got in the way of me using the toilet.

“Jesus!” I exclaimed and back out, literally backwards, looking to flag over the cop sitting on a bench in the hallway.

Then I paused.

Who am I?

No body special, just another person in line at Traffic Court trying to reduce their fine.

I am not the cops and I don’t need to police anyone’s behavior.

After that, though I wanted to be upset about the situation, I really couldn’t be.

I mean, I got off easy is how I figure.

My life is nowhere near that bad.

And it hasn’t been in sometime.

When I got home tonight I just took out the reduced fine paperwork–$115 from $197—and filled out the check, stuck it in the envelope and sealed it.

I slapped a Christmas stamp on it, can you tell how often I use the postal system, and it’s ready to go out in the mail tomorrow.

I balanced my checkbook and it’s done.

No more work to be missed.

No more fines to be paid.

I even got out of there faster than I thought I would and tried to go over to the DMV to stake out a place in line and try to take the written test for the motorcycle license.

But when I saw the line snaking out into the parking lot, I said, “fuck that.”

And I got back on my bicycle and hit it to 7^th and Irving.

I got a manicure.

I had my eyebrows waxed and tended to like the wild little garden they are.

I had a spot of tea.

I sat for an hour and got right with God.

I still wanted to smack people while I was riding my bike home, but I took it slow and navigated the Friday night crazy parking mess of Irving and got back without incident or further traffic tickets.

I contemplated running out to the market on my bike, and then realized that I was not in the best mood, not in the mental space to be on my steed any longer.

Sometimes it’s better to just make do with what’s in the fridge than venture out further, I parked the bike in the garage and called it a day.

I still don’t have any Internet, but I do have a blog written and I do have a teacup with some tea and a nice apple to be had, and I made it through the day.

Perhaps not as gracefully as I would have liked.

But at least I was clothed for it.

Small miracle, that.

Future Tripping

Does not suit me.

I can’t figure it out and I am going to just have to let it go.

I got asked to work early on Friday, which is apropos, as I will be leaving early to go to 850 Bryant and contest my bicycle ticket.

Plea?

Not guilty.

I did not run the red sir, I just slowly meandered through the intersection after looking both ways.

I swear.

Gah.

Tonight on my ride home I had the privilege of going slow, I mean I don’t need a ticket right before I go contest the other, and got to see a drive, without signalling, whip a bitch in the middle of the intersection on Irving at 22nd while also on the phone.

And why am I going to court?

Ugh.

So, nope I won’t also be going to the DMV before work on Friday.  I don’t believe there will be enough time.

I mean, there’s the off-chance that there might, but it will be tight and I don’t then want to rush off to work, again, avoiding rushing until I get through the court date.

So, no motorcycle written test this Friday.

I am bummed.

But it will happen and it just means that not this weekend shall I be scooter’ing off into the sunset.

I actually dreamt that I was riding my scooter through the Presidio this morning.

That was the dream that I was having when I woke up.

It was very clear and I could smell the Eucalyptus trees and the sharp sweet smell of the bark peeling down from the trunks.

I guess you could say I am focused on the scooter, at least my sub-conscious is.

One of the mom’s asked me today if I had gotten my license yet and I told her I had not, the conundrum being that I am always working during the time the DMV is open.

She said that I should make an appointment and that they would cover the time.

Duh.

I have vacation days still.

Ask for a morning off.

I can’t for next Monday, mom’s got a dentist appointment, but I am going to see if  perhaps I can for the week following, that should be enough heads up for everyone.  I also wouldn’t have to take the whole day off.

Or, maybe I would.

I could see my friend who I am getting the scooter from, give him another payment, and pick up the scooter, after, of course, successfully finishing the written test.

I may just do that.

Trying to figure it out.

Even though I know that I am not the best at that.

It is not doing me any bad waiting a little longer either.

I have a bicycle.

It works great.

And it didn’t rain, much, on me today while I did my commute.

A little sprinkle right  at 5:30 p.m. as I was navigating my way from Cole Valley to the Inner Sunset, but by the time I was heading home, it was cleared up.

Yeah, I think I am going to do that, I will see if I can make an appointment for the Monday of the 24th or the 17th.  I can just take the morning off and go back to the Cole Valley gig and do it that way.

Good gravy.

I just tried to go into the website and do just that, set up an appointment, but the damn site is down on “March 5th for repairs to the system”.

Oh.

I see.

Future tripping.

Bring it back to today.

What is going on right now and what has happened and what can I do here with the rest of my evening.

I set up a photo blog post tonight, look here, with some photographs I took earlier on a walk about with the charges.   I had fun with the boys and the eldest is practising his jumping.

Very adorable.

The little boy reunion was a lot of shoving and pushing and hugging and waving and taking food from the other and sliding and demands for being picked up, and snuggles and more hugs and kisses and walks and Golden Gate kids playground.

And creepy, spooky, super meth’ed out bozo bag lady getting off the bus at the stop on Haight Street right next to the Whole Foods.

We were trying to pass, and the double stroller can be a big thing to manuever, but it doesn’t help when crazy meth lady is doing her jitterbug dance of tweak.

One of the things I love about the double stroller is that the boys each have their own separate seat area and cover awning, so if one is asleep, like the smallest one was, I can recline his seat and drop the awning down over his head for undisturbed rest.

Unless there is gross homeless party in the park meth happening, dread headed nasty piece actually reached into the stroller to push up the hood and coo over the baby.

Back the fuck up bitch.

I almost hit her.

I pushed her hand off the stroller hood and jammed by, I was actually a little shocked, I have had a lot of homeless kids and bums try to interact with the boys, but it was the first time one of them had gotten that close to either of them.

There’s a lot of homeless kids around the park and I mostly ignore them and say, “thank you God for not having me be a homeless kid in the park today with a dog,” under my breath.

You think I kid?

I do not.

I have been a homeless kid with a dog.

I don’t ever want to go back there again.

Although I loved the hell out of Layla, the border collie I had with Elliot down in Florida when we were exploring what homelessness looks like at age 17 and 19, outside of Miami, in Homestead.

I am not about to go there again.

No thank you.

So, if all I have to complain about today is that I don’t have an appointment made yet to get my motorcycle license, I can safely say, that today was a good day.

And it was.

When Is It Gonna Happen?

I had to cancel the appointment I made for the written test for the motorcycle lisence.

I was going to take my Thursday charge, pop in, pop out, and be off to the park.

But my conscience wasn’t having it.

I don’t know that I want to bring anyone that I dislike into the DMV with me, let alone a two-year old that I adore.

I also got some input from a friend about how long the process would take and it’s not going to be done in a half hour or forty-five minute time frame.

When it’s going to get done I don’t know.

I may actually have to take time off to do it or I will have to go at the crack of dawn, or so it feels to me, 8 a.m.

Who the hell wants to start their day at 8 a.m. at the DMV?

Yick.

But that’s the only way I can see around it.

The DMV is not open on Saturdays or Sundays, I used to recall that it was on Saturday, but no, the hours listed say definitively that the office is closed on the weekend.

And it closes by 5 p.m. M-F.

My start time is, depending on what part of town I am in, 8:45-9a.m.

My end time is, again depending on where I am in the city, 5p.m.-6p.m.

So basically my only get in is going to be to take time off from work.

I had thought that perhaps I could sneak in on Friday after court, but my friend, same friend with the motorcycle information, said it could take up to three hours to get through.

Three hours?!

Ugh.

In my dream scenario I go in, the judge takes a look at the ticket, says it’s bullshit, recognizes I am a valuable citizen who was not trying to break any laws, just expedite getting home from a long day riding the mean streets of San Francisco, and waive the ticket.

All in twenty minutes.

Ha.

Now, Friday is also not always an early start for me, sometimes I don’t have to be in the Castro until 10:30 a.m.

Therein lies my opportunity, me thinks, to get the written test out-of-the-way.

Friday, 8 a.m. DMV, Fell Street, be there or be square.

Then I will get to work, then  I will go to 850 Bryant and tackle the ticket.

I don’t know if that’s the nicest thing to do to myself though, double dip in the city’s system.

No one wants to go to 850 Bryant.

No one wants to go to the DMV.

To do them both on the same day seems masochistic.

Perhaps I can wait until next Friday to take the written test.

I am just bummed, not horribly, but I was hoping that I would get it out-of-the-way and be driving my scooter around the city this weekend.

Everything else has fallen into place so nicely in regards to the process, the safety course, the helmet and other accoutrement, so I guess I have been expecting the same with the licence part.

If I look at it with a tiny, teeny, tiny, bit of perspective though, I realize that since I have lived in San Francisco I have only been to the DMV three times.

Maybe four.

Definitively three.

I think one time I walked in, saw the line, walked out and went home and made an online appointment to come back another day.

That’s not bad numbers for having lived here for over eleven years.

And I have never been to court in San Francisco.

I have gone to 850 Bryant a whole bunch, just not to court.

I used to work for a small criminal law firm that was located kitty corner from the 850 Bryant and would whirl in and out dropping off files or paperwork for the attorneys.

This too is some good odds, only once in eleven years to go to court.

Not too shabby.

And for all things a bicycle ticket.

Not exactly getting crazy up in here.

Just kicking it with some glitter nail polish, that’s about as risky as it’s getting for me at the moment.

Other than that stuff on my plate, it was a pretty good day in nanny town.

The charge and I got out to the Discovery Museum in Sausalito, or right there outside of it at Camp Baker.

The view is just amazing.

Even if you have no desire or need to go to the museum–and really anyone going is going with kids under 8 years old–the view from the parking lot is worth the drive.

You get to see the back side of the Golden Gate and the view of the city across the bay is spectacular.

My charge had an awesome time.

As soon as I cleaned up the vomit he threw up in the car seat, I had an awesome time too.

He got carsick coming down the twisty road leading off the Alexander Exit.

I love driving it, but not so much fun for a younger passenger.

Fortunately there were back up clothes and though the day was over cast, it was not raining and it was great to go play in the tot area, the pirate cove, to go dig around the shipwrecked boat, to hand him a shovel and pail and a hard hat and let him go to town was awesome.

Even ran into a friend I don’t see much of since he moved to Marin with his partner and their baby.

Who, when I smiled at her, walked right over and plunked herself down in my lap.

Her mom said, “oh, she doesn’t usually do that with other moms”.

I smiled.

“I’m a nanny,” I said, “that’s my charge and usually I have two, so this feels just about perfect.”

I kissed the little girls head and she smiled at me and let me bounce her on my lap.

Nice.

Another mom tried to say hi to my charge and he burst into tears.

“Oh, no,” scary mommy said.

He was ok, it was just intense, sometimes I think we forget that they are little and things get overwhelming and they don’t move the same speed, especially in a new environment.

Plus, she zoomed up to him like he was the cutest thing on earth.

And yeah, he is, but you got to get on his level.

That’s what works best, just get on the floor and let them crawl all over you.

Ah.

I am starting to ramble and I don’t know where the blog is headed.

Suffice to say, there is no rush to get the licence.

It will happen when it’s suppose to.

I have wheels until it does.

No need for my to force a solution, it will happen naturally and when it’s suppose to.

Besides, I ride my bike past that office three times a week, I have the handbook in my bag and my paper work ready to go, when the window opens.

I will be ready.