Happily Ever After

One year ago today, Sam and I married.

We, along with my sister and best friend Sherri, left OKC early in the morning for our flight out west. There was a great deal of excitement on everybody's part. Quite possibly, Sherri's excitement was that she was getting three days out of town, with one whole day to herself in Las Vegas, but I won't say for sure that's the case. Even though she has gorgeous pictures from the Bellagio.

Ahem.

We had a brief layover in Denver, maybe 40 minutes or so, and then we continued on our way.

A year later I still remember the slot machines in the airport when we arrived at McCarran, and how utterly hungry we were. We wanted lunch, badly, but it was barely 10 am local time.

Ignoring our hunger for the time being, we found our way to the bus ride out to Circus Circus. Once we arrived there, we ended up waiting for about an hour in the lobby until they had our rooms cleared, thanks to the lovely time difference. (I had built in a good deal of extra time between when we arrived and when we were supposed to walk down the aisle, in case there were mishaps.) We kept getting distracted by the ticket booth down the hallway advertising all the various shows in town. Eventually we got to go see our rooms and drop off our things.

Sadly, I was a bit disappointed with the rooms--I've gotten more amenities at a Motel 6. Literally. Hotel room didn't even have a coffee pot.

Vegas just isn't what it used to be.

Anyhow, afterward we went in search of sustenance. I remembered from previous trips how Vegas had tons of cheap buffets and restaurants, so I was looking forward to good, cheap food.

Like I said, Vegas just isn't what it used to be.

After an overpriced meal we could have gotten at any diner in the Midwest, we went somewhere... I can't remember if we went to the courthouse first or upstairs to fill out all the paperwork at the wedding chapel, select our music, and so forth. I think we went to the Chapel first.

To be honest, I hadn't really given any thought prior to that as to music or the other little details they wanted to know. I just knew that I wanted to get married to this wonderful, handsome redhead who'd wandered into my life. All of these details came out of left field. Not to mention that the music choices were rather, erm... uh... cheesy? I know, I know, it was a wedding in Vegas, but still! We went with the only inoffensive choice, which was Pachelbel's Canon in D. At least it wasn't done by Jingle Cats.

As I've mentioned, we also had to travel out to the courthouse to get our marriage license. Thankfully, that was one of the few times in my life when social security didn't screw things up for me. (To date, they have the wrong birthday and name for me. I've decided to just live with it.) It was a very long wait, and poor Sherri had to wait outside in the Nevada heat the entire hour and a half it took us to get through the line and to do all of the paperwork.

I don't think I ever stopped bouncing on my toes the entire time. Or staring at all of the other people waiting to get their license. I couldn't help but wonder how many of them were truly a last minute elopement; Sam and I had made our decision to go to Vegas several months earlier. For many, many years I'd declared that I was not going to suffer through a large wedding, and the man who chose me was A-okay with that.

(To the eternal gratitude of the rest of our family and friends, however, Brad and Regina organized an absolutely lovely reception for us a couple of weeks later. I have the most awesome friends!)

We then returned back to the hotel, and had a couple of hours to kill before the big moment. Sherri got to aid me in all of those last minute preparations for hair, clothing, and such. Everybody needs a Sherri to help them when they're getting married. I'll even loan her out to you if necessary!

The three of us made the trek up to the Chapel about 30 minutes early, and to our surprise and delight we could go ahead and do the ceremony ahead of schedule!

While strains of Pachelbel's Canon floated through the audio system, I walked down the aisle, my entire attention focused on the man I was about to wed. We joined hands and stood before the preacher; it was the beautiful and romantic moment I'd dreamed it would be.

Then we found out that our preacher was straight out of The Princess Bride; but we didn't care.

Twenty minutes flew by in a blur as we said our "I do's," and I became the happiest woman in the world.

Le sigh.

Then came the flurry of pictures and signing papers and taking care of more of those pesky details. Once again I don't really remember that much of it--just that I was wondering why in the world I was wearing 3-inch heels.

Overall, though, I wouldn't have traded any of it for all the tea in China.

A year has passed since that joy flooded my soul, and I can say with complete honesty that despite the roller coaster ride we've been on for the last year, I am just as madly in love with my husband as I was a year ago today.

I love you, my Sam, and I look forward to our spending our years together in love happiness.




Love is patient, love is kind. It doesn't not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices in truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. --1 Corinthians 13:4-8a

Day Two -- I Am Not A Man or Why Holly Hates the Social Security Administration

Today's rant is brought to you courtesy of the U.S. Government.

Ever since I tried to get a job with Radio Shack in the summer of 2005, I have had an ongoing argument with the Social Security Office as to my identity. When "the Shack" (whose horrible idea was that catch-phrase, by the way?) ran a credit check on my Social Security number, it came back that I was a man. You can imagine my surprise when I heard the news, as everything I'd been taught in the 9 consecutive years of sex-ed I had in the Wellington School System told me that I was definitely female. Of course, we are talking about public education, so there was a chance I'd been misinformed, but I was pretty sure I fell under the definition of "female."

Radio Shack decided to go ahead and hire me despite the discrepancy in the paperwork. I submitted a few forms to the Social Security Administration (from here out referred to as the SSA) and thought it was all resolved.

In the summer of 2006 I moved to Dallas and decided to open up a bank account there. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that there was already an account opened under my number. Further research determined that a man back in 1993 had opened an account with that particular bank, and they'd transposed two digits on his Social. They'd opened a new account with the correct Social for this gentleman, but they'd never actually closed the incorrect account under my Social Security number. They closed it out while I sat there and I thought to myself, Well, at least we know where that particular confusion originated.

In April of 2007 I submitted my tax returns. Rather, I tried desperately to submit my tax returns, but they wouldn't actually process them because it said my birth date was wrong. Down I traipsed to my local SSA building with my passport to have the birthday corrected--apparently they thought I was born on the 18th instead of the 17th. They said they had everything updated for me, and once I again I thought I had the issue taken care of.

In April of 2008 I once again submitted my tax returns.... and once again they told me they couldn't actually file it for me because my birth date was wrong. This time, however, I was in a panic trying to figure out where my next job was going to be, so I didn't actually go to an SSA building until in the summer to get it straightened out. This time when I went to the SSA they told me that my passport didn't count--I'd have to present them a birth certificate. I also found out that they had the right day; now the month was wrong.

Whatever.

Later in the fall, after I'd obtained my birth certificate from my mother, I went downtown in OKC to present my birth certificate and get everything fixed. They looked at my birth certificate, told me everything was hunky dorey, and sent me on my merry way thinking everything was fixed. And when I filed my taxes and everything went through, I believed them.

Fast forward to July. Sam and I had been married for a month, and we'd finally received our marriage certificate from the wonderful state of Nevada. Hurrah! Holly can now go to the SSA and get her name officially changed! Being a paranoid person, I decide to take my birth certificate with me, because that's the way my luck runs.

Sherri and I had decided to spend the day together, so we went to the SSA in Shawnee to submit the paperwork to get my name changed. I sit down, tell them my Social, tell them my birthday, and have the gentleman tell me that that's not the birth date they have on file.

You. Have. To. Be. Bloody. Kidding. Me.

I present the gentleman with my birth certificate, proving once again that I was born when and where I was born. The nice guy behind the desk says we'll get that updated at the same time we update my name. We move further along in the process, and finally determine that the birth certificate I have was issued by the hospital and not the state, and therefore does not actually count.

Apparently, when I was at the previous SSA, they had thought that once they saw the certificate they could just file the form and it would be done, but they actually needed a number that's only found on the state-issued certificate. And instead of trying to contact me to inform me of this, they just let it go. I am currently awaiting my birth certificate from the state of Kansas to arrive so that I can put this to rest for once and for all.

Until April comes and we find out that my name was never actually changed, even though I have my new SSN card.


"The information encoded in your DNA determines your unique biological characteristics, such as sex, eye color, age and Social Security number."
--Dave Barry