Howdy, Livingston

This week we flew down to Livingston, Texas, to begin the process of becoming residents.  If you’ve ever been to Livingston, you know this picture is not it.  I couldn’t find anything interesting to photograph there, so I posted a picture from our Grand Canyon rafting trip instead.  I figured Arizona and Texas are pretty much the same place anyway and this image makes the site look better.  Hey, I’m from Jersey, what do I know?

The process of getting our drivers licenses and car registered was a breeze.  The people at the county clerk’s office were surprisingly nice and surprisingly efficient.  We had begun to think our bad experiences with government workers were just a local New York thing until we ran in to the bitch at the D.M.V.  Because the address we have is popular with R.V.’ers she was convinced we had a motor home that we needed to register and pay taxes on.  Only we don’t own one yet.  Rest assured the town will get a sizable check from us as soon as we buy our rig, it just hasn’t been delivered.  So she threatened us with all kinds of atrocities once they “run a check on us and find the vehicle”.  After a while she finally relented and gave us our temporary licenses.  Not because she ever believed our story.  No, I assume she must have decided the long-arm of the law would give us a proper thrashing in due time and she had a growing line behind us to attend to.  Now all we have to do is hope the actual licenses show up in the mail . . . you don’t think she’ll read this, do you?

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