An Ode To The EBWW...2016 Version

*****Author's note: This is my version of EBWW '16 and it's a really long post. I've tried to include as many as I could in this and my previous post. I hope you'll read through clear to the end. I saved the last word for Erma and she says it best. Enjoy! For two years I waited to be with my tribe once again, My registration, plagued with troubles, was outsourced to Sister's best friend. Not again, she said, what's the problem this time? The power is out, so get off the line I tell ya, I feel it, a sell out it'll be Six hours later, the whole world could see That the word was out about our Erma club No tickets remained, not even on Stubhub Soon it was the new year and new people dropped in, Worrying and wandering, starting a new trend. What to wear, what to bring, should I have my nails done? Stop fretting, we said, we're here to have fun No one cares what you look like, Or if you're gonna walk, or take a bike The new venue is close, the shuttle runs all day, Please stop stressing, it's gonna be okay Soon it was March with Dayton on our mind Chilly and windy, north of the sweet tea line A few days with family, the nieces and friends Finally, it's Wednesday, March 30, time to check in This time was different, the third time's a charm I'm staying at the Marriott and not the family farm Too much I've missed, in the room, halls and bar I might have a drink since I won't drive my car I rolled right up to the hotel's front door My eyes popped wide and my heart hit the floor Sitting out front was our own Gina B Bout time you got here, wanna have lunch with me? My stuff's right here, so go check in Don't look so surprised, the fun's about to begin Meet you back here, I'm starving, let's meet I know of a place, it's off campus, just up the street A wonderful lunch, the time flew by, We'd better get going, I think you know why It's off to the library where I'm the emcee I must go prepare, they'll be looking at me The contest winners and Betsy Bombeck, too My family is coming, they want to meet you Thanks, doll, my pleasure, the week's just begun Don't know about you, but I'm here to have fun Six trips later, my car now unpacked I wondered aloud, did I need this much stuff? My cooler was filled, the Diet Coke on ice Why yes, I agreed, 3 bucks for a coke, not at that price At the library to celebrate the contest winners Wonderful essays read aloud by those that entered Entered the contest, their words shared with us Waffle irons, plumbers, shape shifters and tattoos A drive by wave, to Betsy I gave Sister and friend watching, I tried not misbehave Four years ago I waited in line Only to be told we're out of her books at this time Not this time, so I snapped up two Elizabeth, my friend, I have one for you From our friend Gina, a shared name Rose Her stories live on, inside of my prose It's back to the hotel to wrap this night up A phone call I placed, looking for friends We're drinking, I'm told, you wanna come up? Certainly, I did, I didn't want it to end The time had flown and we're only one day in Where could I go to find more of my friends? A trip in the elevator down to my floor Come to the bar, don't go through your door More people to greet, new ones to see I'm looking for Cathryn and Judy C Right there they sat eating at the bar I've admired you both, mostly from afar Conversations on life and living in the south I couldn't stop talking once I opened my mouth California's a place, I've yet to see You'll love it you said, take it from me Back to my room trying to wind down I hoped to sleep in cause no cats were around An ear piercing alarm at three am A tornado watch issued, good grief, I'm wide awake again Checking my phone I was glad to see The alert for Atlanta and not for me I closed my eyes and settled back down Sleep was illusive nowhere to be found The light back on, it was 4:15 To work on my pitch, since I couldn't find my dreams The words were coming, I couldn't shut them down I posted on FB, anyone around? It's 7 am and I'm down to the lobby Fresh coffee, new friends and Mary Lovstad She was the first to join, but wasn't the last An hour later, it's packed, we're having a blast Off to breakfast we kept pulling up chairs Too many to count, we were everywhere I said my goodbyes, the pitch on my mind, Back to my room to see if I could find The three or four words that still wouldn't come The walls closed in I needed some fun Down to the lobby with laptop in tow Looking for words, trying to catch my flow Not much later, A Canadian named Kelly Sat down beside me and listened again I read it to her, but there's a problem with tense It's a problem of mine, it makes me feel dense A short time later more friends passed by When down to the lobby someone caught my eye It was Cathryn and Judy, looking for coffee What'cha working on they said? Isn't it too early? I threw out my pitch to the Hollywood crew The beginning needs work, who're you pitching this too? Kelly and I, we stared at each other Incredible, she said, a gift like no other Soon it was time to head in for lunch Our crew kept growing, another large bunch Back to the lobby, I greeted all that came in Cabin girl, Elaine, Rose, and Jo, all my friends Many, many others introduced to me We know you they said, are you on the faculty? No, I am not, but it's what I do I'm here to greet old friends and everyone new We all checked in and received our nametags Dinner approaching we carried our Erma swag Wanda, Suzanne, Kate, Leslie, Kate and Pam Sievers Barbara, Gail, Astra, Judith and my first wine spritzer Patricia Wynn Brown our fabulous emcee Started off the conference as we waited patiently For the wine to be served and the chicken passed about I kept waiting on dessert, the lemon cake I hoped, waiting to be handed out The evening speaker was Roy Blount I had difficulty hearing, of what he's all about More fun and laughter and more people to meet I excused myself I really was beat Still it was midnight but the sleep wouldn't come An early morning loomed, I was up with the sun. I ordered room service cause I needed protein Muffins and pastries aren't my friend. Out the door I went, I boarded the 7:30 bus Speed dating for writers, was first up for me Tracy and her whistle keeping up with the time And agent I met with I'd screwed up big time I wasn't prepared, I didn't know what to expect No time to fret it was onto the next Cindy Ratslaff, who asked good questions Listened to my pitch, please come to my session Onto the next I met Katrina Little I'm coming to your class I need help with description I'll see you then, Saturday at nine Your pitch is good it really sounds fine Alan Zweibel of Saturday Night Live fame His class was packed everyone knew his name Sitting in the back with Christy, Lori, Ginger and Jim We laughed our asses off, we had no shame Out came the cameras, selfies galore I can't get up, as my butt hit the floor We giggled and giggled and then laughed some more I'm okay, but no more squatting for G. An old softball injury, I've got two bad knees A short break to grab a refreshing quick snack Jim and I off to the next class and we sat in the back Judy Carter and the Message of You Writing exercises and a brave few To come up to the front to tell of their mess Amazement around when they all were finished Shari Cooper sitting tall in her chair I have cerebral palsy, so why do you stare I'm a snappy dresser and have great hair So keep on looking, I don't really care Just cause my body looks different from yours Doesn't mean my mind isn't better than yours So keep on staring and looking at me I'll be laughing, it'll be good to see When I have your job, You'll all be saying, the laughs on us, that darn Shari? Time for lunch with Amy Ephron Stories of her family but I couldn't really see My back to the stage I looked out at the trees It's Friday afternoon, already half over Off to another session Jenny Lawson, she of The Bloggess website Brutal honesty of problems she's faced Anixety disorders written all over her face It's her first conference but you did a great job We all laughed and listened and you didn't get mobbed Another short break and the last session of the day It was Erma 101 with our friend Gina Barreca If you lean in will men just look down your blouse Had the crowd roaring, it was a packed house Erma was insurgent, a housewife to be heard Hundreds of papers we hung on every word Three times a week she pumped out the columns Her collective word count extremely large in volume Friday was over and back to the hotel I waited on Gina as she spoke to everyone Jane C Rosen walked us out to her car Hop in, she said, it isn't that far A convertible I said, let's put the top down It's a nice day, Gina agreed, let's take the long way around We giggled like schoolgirls as we drove back Signing books in the parking lot, now that is so WHACK! Friday night dinner, a reading of Wit's End David, Christy, Jen and her friend Keith, Gina, Barbara and Gail We laughed and cheered all without fail For what we were watching now that I think back Was our Erma's columns, it was her life Her three children seated in the front row Childhood recalled, the memories flowed Another late night with dessert, wine and friends I speak for many others, we didn't want it to end Everywhere I went and happened to be Hey look they yelled, it's our new friend G. Saturday morning, our last day of fun My body said sleep, these hours you keep It's not something you normally do You missed the first session, shame on you Off to the venue, I found Erma's Selectric A photo op for sure, before it got hectic Minding my business recalling all the fun Holy crap, I asked, are you Amy Dickinson? A few moments later Gina breezed in They greeted each other just like old friends Newspaper columnists read all around the land Sometimes being late makes you onhand For once in a lifetime meetings like these Our nighttime speaker, Leighann Lord breezed right in Another great photo, how lucky I am Nice shirt one said, it was my green Jimi shirt Talk to me later, I wanted to blurt No time for that, on to the next session, then lunch with Kathy and Cindy Come sit with me, I'm Wendy Liebman I know who you are as my knees started to shake Her dessert I spied and wanted to take For the salad and cold soup aren't favorites of mine A Cadbury egg in my bag I was glad to find Another session before my big chance To share with others what I've been trying to do Stop rocking you said, you've got this, it's you My name finally called the nerves went away Thank you so much for deciding to stay The feedback was good and you taped it too For me to have later, I really owe you Our Saturday night special, one very funny lady She reflected on her parents, both pushing 80 The house stood up, a standing ovation A great way to close, we gave applause with no reservation Next on the list was the comedy workshop Fifteen brave souls busting our chops Many first-timers, who did a great job Three minutes of time, we felt we'd been robbed I could have stayed and laughed all night We'd got to go, some said, I've an early flight We closed down the bar and they kicked us out We had our own session, lounging about In the hotel front lobby While the bowlers came and went Dropping rhymes with Abbe and Lela Davidson Angela, Jim, Ginger and Jill We rocked the mic, we were writing on the fly And in walked another, a very drunk guy Come join us we said, we're here just tonight I can, he said I've got a late flight A big thanks too the hotel staff For putting up with us, as we made them laugh Rapping and rhyming and expressing ourselves We were using our skills, no longer on the shelf Being creative, it's really up to you Lots to think on as we endured Erma flu The four days gone by, ever so quickly I hoped it'd missed me and I wouldn't be sickly For my birthday was close, we missed it by one day But my Erma friends had a lot to say Happy Birthday, my friend, we're gonna miss you Thank you very much, I'll miss you too. Now, I've returned home to a yard that needs mowing Basking in the beauty of Erma, it's ever glowing So Teri, our captain, another job well done I'm happy to say, I was a lucky one This workshop, life-changing I'll say it again It's a blessing for writers, it is our best friend I'm happy to speak and spread the word Of Erma Bombeck, I'll give her the last word It takes a lot to show someone your dream But always remember we're on the same team Never get discouraged and continue the fight Three words you need, YOU CAN WRITE!

Let's Change The Sign

Well, I'm back from another trip north of the sweet tea line--that's the Ohio/Kentucky border for those of you that are new to the middle-aged fat woman gang and a lot happened. And when I mean a lot. I mean A Lot! But that's the next post or perhaps the next one after that. I went to Dayton, Ohio for the Erma Bombeck Writer's Workshop and somehow they let me in for the third time. (I must be paying all the right people.) I hung out with Gina, Judy, Betsy (she's a Bombeck), Cathryn, Cabin Girl, Lori, Gail, Kate, Linda, Mindy, Linda, Sarah, Teri, Patricia, Nancy, Vikki, Sherry, DC, Chrissy, Allia, Kim, Jane, Stephanie, Elly, Lou, Anna, Tami, Mary, Kathryn, Maggie, Joanne, Kristi, Susanne, Leighann, Kim & her daughter, Lois, Lisa, Beth, Denise, Jen, Ann, Diane, Shawna, Rachel, Judith, Suzette, Lela, Abbie, Jill, Jim, Elaine, Marcia, Ann, Janine, Rae Jean, Norm, Ginger, Yvonne, Angela, Leslie, Kelly, David, Jo, Anne, Tracy, Amy, Wanda, Rose, Dawn, Pam, Maureen, Sharon, Barb, Astra and Kranky Kitty. (And that was just the first half hour.) Many more to talk about and that's what I'll do later. I'm lucky to get out of my house on occasion and when I do I like to go out to eat. Who doesn't, right? One of the medicines I take to help manage my diabetes is called Invokana and one of the side effects is having to go to the bathroom frequently. (Bascially, you have to tinkle a lot.) What this means for me is I see the restroom facilities everywhere I go and you can really tell a lot about any establishment by their cleanliness or lack thereof. One thing they all have in common is this: If I could be in charge of anything, I would like to be in charge of the placement of this sign in all facilities. I would, however, make one noticeable exception to the wording on the sign. I would change "employee" to "everyone". Wouldn't that sign make you feel more comfortable knowing that everyone must wash their hands before leaving the restroom and not just employees? Would it bother you if you were reminded to do that in a bathroom? It wouldn't bother me in the least little bit because people might sometimes forget. I'm mentioning this because a very bad case of convention flu is making the rounds through some of the workshop attendees. (I haven't gotten it.) I don't think any of us are the source of the bug because I passed several groups of folks that were staying at the same hotel for a bowling convention. One appeared to be under the weather and remarked to no one in particular. "I feel like crap. A guy was sneezing and hacking all over the balls in the practice lane, probably gave this shit to me." Another replied, "That ain't it. I used the same balls as he did and I ain't sick. You're just wasted. Plus, you smoke too much." Then she sneezed. To which the first replied, "I may be wasted, but at least I'm not getting sick. I went and washed my hands and my balls after he sneezed for the hundredth time." "Oh, go pass out somewhere." We'll never know the source of the crud. It might have been the bowler sneezing on his balls or one of many other persons. The best advice no matter where you are: wash your hands. And your balls! It may very well save you from a bout of the convention crud...

It's My Birthday!

It's my birthday! Don't forget to send me a card! Buy my book! Or you can leave a comment! Why not do all three? Anyhow, I'll have an extra slice of cake, just for you! Gianetta

Crotchety Old Man Yells At Cars....We Remember You...Year II

One of the first friends that I made when I started blogging was Joe, otherwise known as Crotchety Old Man Yells At Cars. Back in the day, circa 2008, blogging was a relatively new thing, and humor blogs were extremely hard to find. After an Internet search one day, I stumbled across a website called Humorblogs.com and if you wrote humor this was the site you wanted to be a part of. It took me a few weeks of reading the various other blogs before I left a comment on Crotchety's "Caption This" contest. It was usually an odd picture of some kind and whomever left the best caption won a few Entrecard credits (that used to be the big thing) and the coveted zucchini award (which was very stylish). It was all in good fun. Crotchety Old Man had another blog, too, and that was Diabetes Destroys. I think that was one of the reasons that we connected so well and that was our shared opinion on Diabetes. It does destroy and it had wrecked havoc on Joe for many years. At one point he spent almost an entire year in the hospital and still tried to keep up his blog. When he felt well, his posts were frequent and you always knew when he wasn't feeling up to par because it could be weeks or months before he would post again. But he always came back. Joe stopped blogging a few years ago but we stayed in touch. We spoke on the phone a few times a year and I always called him on his birthday which is April Fool's Day. I thought he was joking with me when he told me that the first time but he wasn't. I had lost his phone number and did a search online hoping to come across it but I found something that I wasn't prepared for: his obituary. He had passed away in October 2014. I hadn't known and it was very upsetting to me. A phone number was listed but I didn't know what to do so I called it anyway. I thought it might be disconnected. A female voice answered and I asked for Joe. She asked who was calling and I told her and she told me the terrible news. Nicole, if you ever read this, I just want you to know that your father was a very funny guy and loved by many in the blogging world. I know he went through a lot but he was always positive and I'm glad I got to be friends and share a few laughs with him along the way. He will not be forgotten. Lastly, and this is for you, Joe: I really believe the Yankees are going to win it all this year. Go Yanks!

Tough Times...Part II...Year VII

"I don't know who that woman is, I've never seen her before today and I'm certainly not paying for her groceries," I replied. "Well, Ma'am, she said she knew you. You were being very friendly towards her. Are you running some sort of scam? If you are, you could be charged with shoplifting or as an accessory." "I don't know that woman, and I am not running some sort of scam. Why do you let people walk away without paying for their stuff? You better call security. Where did she go? She's gonna get away with it if we don't go find her. Come on, let's see if she is still in the parking lot." At that moment, the cashier, the security guard, the manager and myself went running outside to see if the lady was still in the parking lot. As we looked over the parking lot the Walmart employees began to look at me suspiciously. They thought I was a part of this lady's scam. All I had been doing was being nice--lending a sympathetic ear. I had been taught to be polite to my elders, and now, I might end up in jail. I really didn't want to go to jail. I know they provide three hots and a cot but I got this thing about confined places. They make me a little edgy. I was surveying the parking lot and there putting the last of her bags into the trunk of her 2013 Cadillac SRX was that nice old lady that was trying to stick me with her grocery bill. The nerve of that woman--telling me such a sob story about her finances, her handicapped son and paying a thousand dollar a month for insurance premiums. I pointed to her car and all of us went running over to where she was parked. "Lady, what are you doing? What are you trying to pull? You almost got me arrested for shoplifting. I've never seen you before today. I didn't want you to think I was being rude, so, I listened while you went on and on about all of your troubles, and here you are driving a Cadillac. Would you kindly tell me and the others here what kind of scam you are trying to pull?" At that, the lady took one look at the cashier, the manager and the security guard and her shoulders just slumped in surrender. She looked past them and began to shuffle her feet as she fought for the words to explain this situation. "I bet you're wondering what this is all about," she said. We all nodded our heads in unison and waited patiently for the answer. "All of that stuff I told you in the store...about my finances, raising my kids, losing everything I had because of those high insurance rates...Well, I was just pulling your leg just like I'm pulling yours now. Gotcha! I told this story last year and I liked it so much, I told it again, with a few updates! Happy April's Fool Day!

Tough Times...Part I...Year VII

I had to go to Walmart the other day to pick up a few things I needed and took my cart over to the checkout lanes when I finished. Of course, all of the lines were extremely long so I just settled into line behind a little old lady that closely resembled my late Granny. "Oh, my goodness!" she exclaimed. "I don't know how these people can get away with charging three dollars for a loaf of bread. I'm just a little old lady on a fixed income and I can't afford these prices. I stayed at home my whole life caring for my husband and my children only to be left nearly penniless by some fat cat insurance company in New York. Health Care reform, I think that's what they are calling it. A thousand dollars a month for health insurance, who would pay that? I was hoping to have an easier time in my Golden Years and now I can barely afford food for me and my handicapped son. I had to leave him out in the car because I upset him when I get to complaining about these prices. I don't mean to, but I'm doing the best I can." "I'm sorry to hear that," I said. I felt sorry for the lady, I really did. Times are tough all over. I knew exactly how that lady felt about those astronomical premiums, I've been paying them myself. It was finally her turn to begin placing her items up on the register belt and she began talking to the cashier and pointing to me in a friendly manner. I wasn't really paying attention to what they were talking about. I had just discovered a copy of The Global Wacko News that had Tim Ruse on the cover saying that he was the reincarnation of Lon R Cupboard and was trying to convert the world into his new class of Cosmetology that would be opening new centers worldwide whenever he had another hit movie and earned enough money to do so. (Good luck with that.) The little old lady kept gesturing and smiling at me. I didn't want to be rude so I gave a little half-smile and nodded in agreement to whatever they were so animated about. You know what I'm talking about. When somebody tells a joke and you laugh along anyway even though you don't get it. By now, there was enough space on the belt for me to begin placing my purchases alongside the lady's items. My first item was a huge 16-roll pack of toilet paper that was on sale and it separated my things from hers. It also separated me from her as she gave another wave and headed out the door. "That was awfully nice of you," said the cashier. "Your Great Aunt said you was going to pay for her groceries. That will be $88.32." "Excuse me..."

The Tale Of A Lost Car Tag...The Whole Story

I received my official Georgia 2016 car tag (usually comes in a blue envelop), three weeks late and in a handwritten unofficial envelop from a fellow in Chicago that said he received it by mistake. Scam? Mistake? Post Office screw up? In another time, I would have chalked it up to clerk error at the local office but with identity theft all the rage now, it looks like I will need to go to the courthouse and see what's up. Courthouses aren't a place that I spend a lot of time in--we have a new courthouse where I live and I've only been there one time--to renew my passport--but the last time I had to get any documentation about my car, that's where I went. Parking is usually an issue up town, so imagine my surprise when I pulled into a spot right in front of the building. I gathered all the information--the letter I received from Illinois, last year's tag, my insurance card, my driver's license and was almost inside when I realized I forgot my reading glasses. I can't read anything closer than 24 inches--that's as far as I can reach with my arm (I measured)--without my glasses and figured I'd be reading all sorts of fine print before I got this latest bad customer service experience straightened out and went back and got them. If you're new to the blog you can check out my experience with the gas company and bad haircuts in earlier posts. I retrieved my glasses, side-stepped a man-hole (I never step on those) and made my way to the front of the courthouse. The door gave notice that no firearms or weapons of any kind were permitted and I didn't give it another thought. Another surprising fact was that I was the only person around--I always thought the tax office was a hopping place. Two officers swung into action when I walked inside. I placed my keys inside my purse and placed it and the paperwork into the gray plastic bin provided by the officer manning the x-ray machine. The other officer motioned me through the metal detector--it didn't beep (but I did make the sound in my head) and giving me a nod and smile stepped back to his place along the wall. I waited for the bin to come through the x-ray and saw the officer frown slightly. He shook his head and then ran the tub through the machine again. "What's that?" he asked. I looked at the screen, "That's my medical bag--it looks like a syringe." "No, I can see that. This item right here," he said pointing to a dark spot. I looked at the screen. For a moment, the thought "items appear closer (bigger) than they are", you know, what's written on car rear view mirrors popped into my head. "It could be a bottle of glucose," I said. I knew I had one in there and I didn't see it on the screen. "No, it isn't that. It's right here," he said pointing to another, better defined blob. "Hmmm, it could be a Chapstick," I said. "You're more than welcome to search it." Who knew I had such a large amount of suspicious-looking contraband in my purse? "It looks like a knife," he said. "Could be nail clippers. Does that count as a knife?" "No, it doesn't," he said giving me a look. "You can search it. I don't mind." (They must be bored) "I think it's okay. Have a nice day," he said dismissing me. I picked up my purse and smiled at the other officer. "Thanks, y'all have a good one. Is the tag office still in the basement?" "Nope. It moved. Only thing here is court-related issues and court isn't in session this week. You gotta go to the old hospital for tax issues... ...Well, now I had the answers to several questions. Court wasn't in session. The tag office had moved. And the cops WERE bored. I walked back out to the car lost somewhere between my bad luck with customer service and an insane desire to know what the suspicious-looking object was inside my purse. I was rummaging around in the bag, not paying attention when I stepped off the curve and landed just to the right of the man-hole cover which threw off my balance and sent me and everything in my purse flying all over North Main Street. I'm not as spry as I used to be, but I somehow managed to avoid the man-hole but ended up with my hand touching what was either mud or fecal matter of some kind. (I resisted the urge to sniff my hand.) After ascertaining that I was all right, my next response was to look around to see if anyone had witnessed my misstep and was relieved when I saw nothing except a puzzled pigeon that was now pecking at something that had fallen out of my purse. I stood up slowly and shooed the bird away as I picked up what had fallen out of my bag. The pigeon was poking around at a small package of Tums that I hadn't seen before. Maybe, that was the suspicious-looking contraband? I used my one clean hand to gather up the rest of my belongings, opened the car door and sat down inside. Checking myself in the mirror, I reached to push my hair back and didn't catch myself before the dirty hand brushed my hair back into place. Yuck. It definitely wasn't mud. Sometimes, shit happens, but luckily, I had a brand new container of Handi-wipes in the car and was able to exchange the poopy smell to one just as bad. Why do those things smell so bad? Thankfully, I didn't really notice anything in my hair, except a certain slicked-down area where my hand had been. The old hospital--now the new administrative annex--was only a mile from downtown so I was there in a short time. I gathered all of my items again, minus the small package of tums (no need to look suspicious at the next x-ray machine) and went inside the building. I was surprised that there wasn't any security at the front door except the same sign prohibiting firearms and knives (I didn't have any) and followed the signs to the tag office. I waited in line for a few minutes before a nice lady waved me over. The following is our conversation: Clerk: "Hey. What can I do for you?" Me: "Hey. Well, (placing the letter from Illinois on the counter) I finally received my car tag, and in the past, it only took three days, but this time it came from someone in Chicago and took three weeks." Clerk: "What?" Me: "This is what my car tag came in," (showing the letter) "Don't you guys use the blue envelops any longer?" Clerk: "Yes, we do." She picked up the letter and examined it closely. Me: "You can just make it out where somebody wrote 'Vehicle registration mailed to me' under the barcode,'" I said pointing it out to her. Clerk: "Chicago? How in the world..." Me: "That's what I thought." Clerk: "How did it get to Illinois?" Me: "Outsourcing..." Clerk: "Outsourcing?" (giving me a look) "We don't do that there. How did it get to Chicago?" I continued to stand there as she removed the car tag from the envelop and examined it closely. Me: "It looks just like the one I got last year." She continued looking at it before finally punching in a few numbers on her computer and frowning again. Clerk: "Well, I'm the one that processed this a few weeks ago. Let me check the name of the person that mailed it to you to see if they are in the system." The last name began with a "P" so there was always the chance the papers got stuck together somehow. Me: "Find anything?" Clerk: "Nope. I don't know how it got to Chicago." She examined it again before continuing "It looks perfectly fine. I don't see why there would be a problem just putting it on your license plate." Really? I could see several problems such as identity theft, stolen tags or someone showing up at my house asking "Are you the MAFW?" Me: "I don't know, I'm a bit worried about identity theft these days." Clerk: "Well, this tag is linked to the VIN of your car, so you wouldn't have a problem if you got stopped." I hadn't even thought about that. I haven't been pulled over in almost ten years, but I sure know I didn't want to try and explain to a Georgia cop that although my license and plate says I'm from Georgia, my yearly decal is from the Windy City. (Not sure I'd be able to talk my way out of that one.) Me: "I want a whole new license plate." The clerk examined the tag and envelop once again before agreeing with me. She punched a few more numbers on the screen, shuffled a few papers around and stopped short before reaching for one of the new plates sitting on a shelf beside her. Clerk: "We got one small problem?" Me: "What's that?" Clerk: "I need your old plate." Me: "Oh. Well, I have that. It's on my car." Clerk: "Okay, for some reason, I thought it was in Chicago..." I felt bad for the clerk because I still don't know how my car tag got to Chicago. It was confusing. Clerk: "You got a screwdriver?" What I wanted to say was "Why, does one of us have a screw loose?" But, what I actually said was not that bold. Me: "No, I don't." Clerk: "Okay, I've got one you can borrow if you want to take your plate off and bring it back so we can exchange it. Can you do it by yourself?" This time I gave her a look. I knew how to handle a screwdriver well enough to remove a few screws from a license plate. (In Georgia, we only have one plate and it's in the back. The front plate usually has a UGA plate, a Nascar racing tag or is empty like mine.) I removed the plate easily and took it back inside. A line had formed while I was outside and now I stood outside the room waiting in line. It wasn't very long before I heard someone calling my name "Palmer," "Ms. Palmer," and finally the one that caught my attention "Wrong plate from Chicago." I smiled at the six people that I moved ahead of in line and one man frowned at me. In his hand he carried stacks and stacks of paperwork. "I'm in a hurry," he said. Me: "I've already been in line once and they sent me my car tag from Chicago." Man in a hurry: "You go right ahead." I handed the screwdriver and plate over to the clerk and watched as she punched a few buttons on the screen, shuffled a few papers around and handed me a new plate. Somewhere I had the thought of trying to explain what happened in her paperwork and couldn't help but ask. Me: "What did you write in your reason code for giving me a new plate?" The clerk for the first time offered a small grin. Clerk: "I said the Post Office delivered it to the wrong state." Maybe? But, who knows? I thanked her and drove back home to have my lunch before continuing with my errands. I put the new tag on, gathered a few letters and headed to the Post Office. I talked to several people in line and took my turn at the counter. I exchanged pleasantries with the clerk and told her of my lost car tag. As a former postal worker, I know that the Post Office gets blamed for everything and wasn't surprised when she said "It was probably delivered to the wrong house. You were lucky someone sent it to you." I agreed with her and was about to walk out the door when she called after me. "Was it in the blue envelop?" Me: "Nope. It was in a plain white envelop." Postal clerk: "Doesn't surprise me one bit. Those people at the tag office screw up my stuff every time I go in there." I'll never know how my car tag got delivered to a residence in Chicago, or maybe, I don't want to know. I do have the return address of the person that mailed it to me and I will probably send them a thank-you card. It's the least I can do...and I just might ask about that blue envelop!