The DPS

Ahhh, the joys of the DPS. For any non-Texans, that’s the Department of Public Safety. That can also be translated to mean “it’s completely impossible to go and not have to stand in line for at least two+ hours.

But that’s what the three of us did this past cold, rainy Monday. Wade & I both needed new driver’s licenses, so we made it a family field trip.

I didn’t realize that they take away your old license never to be seen from again. So I can’t share my picture from 1999. Yes, my 33-year-old self has been showing ID of a 23 year-old self. I enjoyed it as long as I could. Now in its place will be a picture of not only someone two weeks shy of turning 34, but also someone eight months pregnant. I doubt they offer airbrushing. But a big shout out to whoever took the “weight” category off the license questions.

So at least for the next six years, I’m up to date, legal, newly photographed, and all with a swollen, pregnant face. Until March 2016.

One of my odd quirks is that when I see an expiration date, I always wonder what will be going on in my life then. Whether it’s the car registration, insurance renewal, milk carton, or driver’s license, I think about what I’ll be doing when that time is up.

So the next time to the DPS, I should have a 9-year-old and almost 6-year-old. I will have been married almost 17 years. And I will be about to turn 40. 40???!!!! Weird. Will this blog even exist? Maybe by then we won’t even have to go to the DPS to stand in line. Surely by then either the space pack will fly me there or some kind of computer program will virtually scan and process it all automatically for me.

Until then, I’ll just enjoy the fact that at some point my puffy, pregnant face picture will appear quite young.