Only at the DMV are you likely to find Harriet seated between a large and sweaty man wearing a T-shirt that reads �I am The Way, The Truth and The Life� and another large and sweaty man wearing a T-shirt that reads �I have a red neck and a blue collar.� Perhaps this makes Harriet a snob, but it is the truth.

I�m not sure what made me veer into referring to myself in the third person. Apparently something about the Department of Motor Vehicles makes me turn into Miss Manners. Or perhaps it�s just the burning desire to put as much distance between myself and the DMV as humanly possible, even if said distance is only grammatical.

Actually, the visit to the DMV was about as painless as could be. There was no waiting, other than about 2 minutes for the laminating of the license. This was especially fortunate, as I had completely neglected to bring any reading material and was forced instead to spend those two minutes contemplating the irony of the sign reading, �Stamp Out Road Rage.� The whole visit, including taking a vision test and the written exam, took about 20 minutes. And my picture was even halfway decent. The drive there and back was lovely. Although the corn is not yet as high as an elephant�s eye, it is still lush and green and surrounded by patches of Queen Anne�s Lace and chicory, which, on a beautiful sunny day, was most picturesque. Even the fat ponies by the farmhouses looked like they were enjoying the view.

And now I�m off to pick up AJ from preschool where they were to be making and eating pizza today. I�m guessing that means I�ll be spending the afternoon doing laundry.

[Second entry late yesterday. Click back for AJ�s bedtime concerns.]

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