The Good Things

Playing in my iPod right now: "Not As We" - Alanis Morissette

I sometimes feel like I spend an inordinate amount of time complaining about my new town of Del Rio, Texas. A lot of things in this town are funny - because you have to look at them that way to survive. For instance, last month, my friend Becky and I passed the marquee in front of what can only be loosely referred to as the "mall," to be greeted with the message "Valentines Feb 14 Renew UR Vows 2 PM By Ross." Understandably, we doubled over in laughter, and I even insisted on getting a bit closer (from the parking lot) so I could snap a picture. I mean, really - what could be more romantic than pledging yourself all over again to the person you love in front of a discount store? Heck, it could be like the end of that movie "Where the Heart Is,"where Natalie Portman ties the knot in Walmart (also possible in Del Rio).

But there are some legitimately good things about being in a town this small and non-lively. Let's start with the Social Security Administration office. For those of you who know me, you may know that it took me over two years to legally change my last name to my husband's. I put it off for many reasons, the first being that we lived separately for some time, and I had a house and all of my utility bills in my name. A second reason was that I had an established career (other than writing), and I was afraid people wouldn't be able to find the new me. Becoming pregnant was the impetus for my decision to finally make this name change happen (it just seemed to make sense). The funny thing about this approach is that, now when I tell people I recently changed my last name, and they can see the obvious growth under my shirt, I fear their impression is that I had a shotgun wedding (not that there's anything wrong with that . . .). I digress.

Anyway, having heard horror stories about the nuisance of changing a last name, upon the advice of Becky, I sucked it up and took all of my documents into the Social Security Administration office into my new town. So after all of that dread, how long did it take me to officially change my name? Less than ten minutes, folks. Other than some creepy guy lurking in the corner of the waiting room, I was the only one in there. You can't beat that.

Ditto for updating my license plates and getting a new driver's license. Did you know that in Texas, you have to go to two different government buildings for this? That right there might have caused me to rethink my plans to change residency and hang onto the Old Dominion. But in Del Rio, not a problem. Getting my driver's license was such a speedy process, in fact, that I could have forgotten a few identification documents, driven home to retrieve them, and still been out of there in twenty-five minutes. As it happened, it only took fifteen (there was one person in front of me - a sweet old lady who was just getting an identification card and apparently did not speak a lick of English).

And finally, I have to admit that the people, for the most part, are quite nice. Becky and I signed up for an oil painting class at the Firehouse art center downtown Del Rio. We thought it would be fun to have a project and some kind of weekly extracurricular routine. After a check debacle at Chili's, we were a bit late for the first class, but when we arrived for the second and began to take our places around the table, one of the women pulled out the one folding chair with a small amount of padding and offered it to me, explaining that it was not much but that it might help. I was touched by the kind gesture. She didn't even know me.

Note: Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for the law enforcement officers who have twice pulled me over in this town for speeding. Well, okay - one let me off with a warning, but the second (whose name I remember but will not repeat here) was apparently unimpressed by my "condition" and gave me a ticket for going 58 in a 40 mph zone. Yes, I may have been going slightly over the speed limit, but I could see the 50 mph speed limit sign when I started to accelerate. So we're basically talking 8 miles over. Where I'm from, if you're only going 8 miles over the speed limit, you become roadkill. Sadly, I will have to retire my lead foot from now on. Really - it's a lot more difficult than you might think.