Five-Oh... no... not again....

My mom’s wedding pictures came in today… or rather the link to see them was emailed out, so we could all check them out virtually. After the Christmas party Beach Chic asked me if I paid the guy to take horrible pictures of me… you would think after seeing the pictures today that he had the same motive.

I wanted a different photographer, but my mother really wanted to use this guy again (he photographed her Christmas party this last year, and there we realized that he had also been the photographer for my sisters [short-lived] wedding). As it was my mom's wedding, who am I to argue…

The photographer really likes my family, so much so that as they gave the toasts just before cutting the cake, the photographer decided to give a toast as well… I knew that the Maid of Honor and the Best Man had these responsibilities…but the photographer? News to me. And news to my mother who stood there a little shocked as her photographer toasted to how much he loved this family… I mean really… but what's not to love?!?

Granted this is the same man that last Christmas took a liking to my (already married) aunt so much so, that towards the end of the evening he handed off his camera to a guest of the party so the guest could take a picture of the photographer and my aunt together. He feels very comfortable with us.


Today I had a little incident with the police. I know that I have blogged previously about getting pulled over in Laguna, and the kind officers letting me go on my way… well today almost made up for anytime that I got of the hook easily.

I was on a side street driving on my way to work this evening when I saw a motorcycle officer in the bushes ahead… unfortunately too late. I slowed a smidge, but he pulled out behind me and I pulled over. When he approached the car, I gave him my California license and explained to him that I didn’t have my registration or proof of insurance in the car.

Now you think that I would know by now where these items are (although I actually should be receiving my new Oregon insurance proof shortly), but to be honest I have no idea where the registration for my car is… I could have packed it in a box with my “important papers”… or I could have thrown it away, your guess is as good as mine… but without all the paper mess in my glove compartment I have room for my pedi kit... and we all have our priorities.

However I told the officer that I had left them both at my mother’s house, as I needed them to get information for registering my car in Oregon. To be honest with you, and you alone, I don’t plan on registering my car for a long time. My tags are good for another year, and I don’t feel like spending the money on registering it in Oregon, when I don’t even know how much longer I will live here.

Mr. Officer told me that I needed to have these items in my car and he could write fines for much more, but he wouldn’t this time, “just get those papers back in your car!” I agreed, “Yes, Sir!” and watched him walk behind my car to write the speeding ticket.

While he was back there I thought it a good opportunity to pick up my car, I had a few scattered papers and water bottles that had been bugging me so I started to pick up and get all of the garbage together. When I sat back up, I saw another police car behind me and two more officers “on the scene”. I assumed they were curious and had stopped.

I called my mom while still waiting and told her what was happening, fearing that she would be driving by on her way home. While I spoke with her two additional police cars arrived and four more policemen gathered around. At this point I freaked. I told my mom I thought I was getting arrested. I began shaking and stressing completely as over half a dozen police officers gathered behind me and several police vehicles (motorcycle, suburban and two cars) with flashing lights was all I could see in my rear view mirror.

After Mr. Officer had been behind my car for ten or fifteen minutes on his radio and assembling this congregation of officers, he began to walk towards my window, with each side of my car being flanked by two more officers. He got to my window, checked my VIN then said, “It is really important that you have your registration on you at all times. When I ran your plates they came up a stolen motorcycle from California. Make sure you go home and get that registration back in this car. Here’s your speeding ticket blah blah blah.”

I nearly shat myself. I seriously thought there was a serious fucking issue… as did every rubber-necker on the small (yet busy) two lane road I was pulled over on. I pulled away, still shaking… and hoping they didn’t notice my burnt out tail light as I left…

I worked all night and still didn’t make enough to cover the cost of the ticket… at least it’s cheaper than jail.