Renewal

I got a card in the mail last week notifying me that it was time to renew my driver's license, and would I kindly take time off from work to schlep to the nearest outpost of the Texas DPS to address the matter. No biggie. I took today off so that I could prepare for tomorrow's drive to Florida in leisure, so I got myself around, rounded up the check book and my social security card (do you know where yours is?), and headed up county.

At the DPS, the line was mercifully short, and the only real delay was the time required to fill out a form with a bunch of yes/no questions (in English, and also in the official language of Texas) that seemed very interested in establishing whether or not I'm prone to various sorts of seizures. As if anyone wanting a license would actually answer “yes” if he/she were. Personally, I'd rather have questions regarding the applicant's legal status and whether or not he/she were entitled to hold a license. But that's just me.

Over the years, I've seen the renewal process change. First came the electronic signature thingy, which inexplicably provides no visual feedback so that the result always looks like something forged by a crack addict in the midst of withdrawal. Then came the requirement to be thumbprinted – in ink, initially, and now electronically. Sometime in the last ten years or so, subtle, hard to fake designs incorporating the state seal were added to the license itself.

This time, there was a new twist.

“Please take off your glasses and stand with your toes on the white line so I can take your picture,” the unusually pleasant clerk directed.

I did as I was asked and removed my glasses. Unfortunately, having done so I was no longer capable of discerning where the white line might be, much less whether or not my toes were on it. After a few uncomfortable moments, the clerk suggested I put my glasses back on, stand with my toes on the white line, and then remove my glasses. Which did the trick.

Next, the clerk used a big pair of scissors to cut the top edge off my license to invalidate it and then gave me a receipt way too large to easily fit in my wallet, which I was to carry in my wallet to make my invalidated license kind of valid until the new one arrives.

“So, why did you have me take my glasses off?” I asked. “I'm not vain about them; that's just the way I look.”

She explained that “we” – by which, I assume, she meant herself and the rest of Texas DPS and not including me – are using face recognition technology now, and that doesn't work with the glasses on. Face recognition?? What's up with that? I can't even figure out how to use T9 to compose a complete text message, and we've got face recognition data being tied in to our drivers' licenses?

Mushroom, mushroom

It's 6:50am and I've been at my desk, working, since twenty past six. Only one or two others are here this early, and they're elsewhere on the floor. It's very quiet, and only every third or fourth ceiling fixture is lit. It's very peaceful.

I hear someone get off the elevator, talking loudly on her cell phone and jingling her keys. I hear the noisy flip-flap of sandaled feet approaching from behind.

Coworker: What are you doing sitting in the dark?
Foo: I'm not sitting in the dark.
Coworker: Sure you are. The lights are off.
Foo: Ah… you have infravision. Impressive.
Coworker: Infra what?
Foo: Infravision. You can see in the dark. That's how you saw me with the lights off, right?
Coworker: Oh… well, not all the lights. Some of the lights are on.
Foo: Ah.
Coworker: How can you see what you're doing?
Foo: I'm a touch typist. And see how this magic picture frame glows?
Coworker: …
Foo: My monitor.

Her cell phone bursts into a raucous, fully-orchestrated rendition of “Celebrate” (the Kool & the Gang one; not the Three Dog Night one). She looks relieved.

Coworker: Oopsie! Gotta go!

She jangles off, talking loudly, apparently to herself (ah, bluetooth). There's a loud “CLACK!” as she slaps the entire bank of light switches. Several dozens of harsh fluorescent tubes flare to life, and I feel a little like an escaping convict pinned by a searchlight's beam.

In ten minutes, if no one else walks through the area, the motion detection system will turn off the excess lighting. If I'm lucky.

Down to brass tacks

Or more to the point, tax.

I recently received an email that provided a comparison of the taxation proposals for the two major presidential candidates. I found this information to be quite nauseating enlightening, but these days there's no telling where the information being passed around in emails might have come from. I'm sure Snopes is getting a real workout.

Anyway, I checked out The Tax Foundation – that's the folks who bring us the annual calculation of Tax Freedom Day – and found their handy Presidential Candidate Tax Plan Comparison.

I encourage you, dear reader, to check it out. Preferably on an empty stomach.

Labial embellishment on a porcine mammal

Or maybe eye shadow on a javelina.

Aaanyway… it's not political. It's a new blog skin.

Now playing: Aimee Mann, I'm With Stupid

Wednesday Potpourri

Over on Pickled Beef, Tink asked for a little help in restoring her faith in humanity. I don't get out much and so didn't see any continuum-altering opportunities for good deeds, but I did what I could.

About half a mile from our house is a nice recreational park. It's mostly an open field used for kids' soccer practices and the occasional Sunday morning cricket match (seriously.), with a splash park and a couple picnic shelters plonked down in the middle.

The park also has a 1.55 mile long walking/jogging/biking path that runs all the way around its perimeter. At several points along the path, the city of Allen has provided permanent stations for dispensing doggie poo mitts and receptacles for the disposal of any such collected during one's walk around the path. Neat idea, huh? I think so, but the local pet owners apparently don't agree. Maybe it's in our nature to rebel against doing what someone else wants us to do (pick up after your pony-sized mastiff, in this case), or maybe it's just too much to ask people to hang up their cell phones so they'll have a free hand for a doggie poo mitt.

Either way, when Turtle and I went out for a ride this past weekend, I was dismayed to find a couple large piles of poo on the path. Not next to the path, in the grass. On the path. Instead of spending the rest of my ride fuming, I thought of Tink's post, rode to the nearest poo station, and grabbed a couple poo mitts.

“I'm going for another lap,” I called to Turtle. I held up my poo mitts and waved them. “I got doody duty!”

I discovered a few things over the course of that lap:

• The poo mitt is really simple to use. Just put it over your hand, pick up the poo, and (!important) turn the mitt inside out so that your hand is outside the mitt and the poo is inside.
• I intensely dislike [the behaviors of] lazy, self-centered people.
• Riding around with a couple bags of dog crap in the pockets of my cycling jersey makes me giggle. I even made up a song, to the tune of The Pretenders' “Brass In Pocket”. (I leave the lyrics to the reader as an exercise.)

It was easy and fun (almost). From now on, when we do the park loop, I think I'll grab a couple poo mitts and police the area as we go. No charge.

Other recent randomness:

• Turtle wouldn't let me buy her anything for her birthday or for our anniversary. Instead, she's had me testing my somewhat limited home improvement abilities. First, we rolled the dice on some decorative painting technique. Not a big deal, on the face of it; I'm proficient with both brush and roller. The risky bit was where I had to use a brown glaze and a rag to attempt an antiqued effect. The result was… acceptable. Then came the energy-saving window film. I've done two windows so far, with not too many bubbles but no small amount of cat hairs embedded like flies in amber. The jury is still out regarding the film's effectiveness at blocking heat.
• Last month, Turtle's hairdresser friend from St. Louis was in town and we got to meet them for dinner. During the course of their conversation, the two of them concluded that I needed a new haircut. Turtle's friend gave me clear instructions, which I passed on to my barber yesterday. After I'd signed the waiver, he went to work on me with the clippers and #2, #3, and #4 guides. The results? Well, it's comfortable; it will save some money on gel and electricity I would have used to run the hair dryer; it shows quite clearly where I'm going to go bald first; and it makes Turtle look really young.
• I had a really nice ride Sunday afternoon with the Recumbent Bicycle Enthusiasts of North Texas (RBENT). We met out near the Dallas/Ft. Worth airport and did a loop around the perimeter of the airport for a total of about 23.5 miles. It was a really good turnout, and it was great fun seeing such a large variety of recumbent bikes and trikes rolling down the road and turning heads. Oh, and the dinner at Hard Eight BBQ (Coppell, TX) afterward was really yummy, too.