The fair lady attained

Meet Olwen.

She's a good car; demure, gracious, a bit like an old dowager. She came from the Summer Court, so I named her Olwen after the lady in one of the early Welsh Arthurian tales.

I had quite the quest to find her--as you frequent readers of my blog may remember--but she was worth waiting for.

Her license plate has arrived. YIPPEE! There was a quite a quest to find it, too, I can tell you. You see, Olwen's temporary sticker expired May 21, and the dealer assured me I was all in order and her plate would be here. May 21 came, and went, and there were no plates.

So the following Thursday I called him and asked what had become of it. It was on the way, he assured me. Okay. I got home that evening to find a postcard in the mail saying my plate was at the dealer's and please come pick it up between 8 and 5:30 Monday through Friday.

Uh-oh.

The dealer is in Clovis, a good five hours from here, and while I was going to their vicinity over the weekend, I certainly couldn't get there between 8 and 5:30 Monday through Friday. It was too late that night to call them, and anyway I was headed to small group. Dad and I got up the next morning to find another come-pick-it-up postcard. Well, huh.

So we get to Clovis on Saturday and drop by the dealer. Can I help you? Yes, actually, I was wondering what became of my license place. I'll check for you. He disappeared into the back. Then our very own nice salesman came up, and recognized us. Hello! It's good to see you! How's your car? It's wonderful, thank you! But I wondered what became of my license plate. You know, I think we mailed it, but I'll go find out for you. He disappeared into the back too.

They reappeared and affirmed that yes, my plate really was in the mail. My nice salesman wrote out a new temporary sticker. We went home. I spent the next week collecting postcards from the post office, saying your plate is here and come pick it up.

The post office here, incidentally, is a dreadful nuisance. It's fine if you get there when they're open, but they're never open; at least not when I'm not at work. And if they close at noon and you get there at 12:01, well, that's just too bad. Last fall I had a package that I took so long in picking up (why can't they just leave it on the doorstep??) that they returned it to the sender. So I was a trifle nervous about leaving Olwen's plate in their tender mercies.

But today on the way to Santa Fe, Mom and I dropped by the post office. It was 11:30 precisely, and the place looked deserted. We were sure they were all on their lunch break, but I figured, while I was there, I might as well give it a shot. I went in and rang the bell I've always rung before. No answer. I leaned on the bell pretty hard. No answer. Sigh.

As I turned to leave, I noticed a door that had never been there before, leading to a room I'd not seen before either. Huh. I went through it--and found a customer service counter. I went in and looked around. There was nobody there. But I hung out a moment, and a guy came in, and miracle of miracles! He had my license plate and let me have it!

Olwen and I went for a photo shoot. She's legal, and I'm legal, and we're happy.

Bring me that horizon.