It's
recently been brought my my attention (ahem, I'm looking at you, Zach), that I haven't written in a while.
Of course, I knew this was true, and have been chastising myself over my
lack of web presence these days -- heck, I've hardly even tweeted! The
reality is, I've been busy -- really busy. Work is nuts (but going
well), and I've been traveling like a crazy person for one wedding after
another.
This week, I am home in the Mitten -- and I'm so happy to spend a few
brisk fall days in my favorite state. However, there is lots going on in
Cincinnati this week that I am bummed to be missing -- especially the
start of FotoFocus.
This is the inaugural year for the month-long festival dedicated to the
art of photography. The brainchild of Thomas R. Schiff, FotoFocus is
bringing the work of more than 500 artists to more than 50 venues in
Cincinnati -- from small, intimate galleries, like the Alice F. and Harris K. Weston Gallery, to more unexpected places, like the Holy Cross
Church Mount Adams Monastery in Mt. Adams. In addition to the photography, workshops for
professional and amateur photographers alike will take place throughout
the month -- and, of course, there will some fabulous parties.
Kicking off the social aspect of FotoFocus is SIDESHOW, happening
October 5 in the Backstage Theater District Alley. Yes -- an alley,
which will be transformed into a
vintage/high-tech carnival
complete with music, food, booze, entertainment, stunts, daredevils,
artist-made games, rides, and even an audio-visual fun house. Tickets
are $25 -- unless you purchase a FotoFocus FOCUS, ZOOM or FLASH Passport, then admission to the party is included.
It's fitting that if we start the month with a Sideshow, we should end
it with a freakshow -- which is why CARNEVIL is the theme of the
FotoFocus wrap party. CARNEVIL -- happening October 27 -- will be the
freakiest, creepiest, sexiest Halloween party Cincinnati has ever seen.
All the freaks will be out to play at the haunted Thompson House Mansion
in Newport, Kentucky. Tickets are $50, unless you purchase a FotoFocus
Passport, which not only includes admission, but early entrance and an
open bar for the first two hours of the event.
Follow FotoFocus on Facebook or Twitter to stay up-to-date about all the
happenings this month, or check out the calendar of events. It's an exciting time to be in Cincinnati -- and
hopefully I'll have a little more time to write about my FotoFocus
experiences throughout the month.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Monday, July 9, 2012
A birthday unlike any other.
I can't believe it's that time of year again -- my annual birthday
update! I wasn't sure where to start with this one, because this year
has gone by so quickly, I'm having trouble accepting that tomorrow marks
the start of my 26th year. Kimmer assures me I'm still in my mid-20s
until I'm 28, which makes me feel a little better, but for the first time, I
might actually feel old.
What's even more strange, though, is how this birthday feels compared to birthdays past. Every year, I feel like my birthday is full of expectations -- not so much for the day of (because my birthdays are always fabulous), but for the year ahead. More so than New Year's, my birthday is my fresh start and my clean slate.
This year is different.
For the first time, I don't need/want a fresh start or a clean slate. For the first time, I'm not sure that this year will be entirely different from the last, or that I'll be any different (well, I should say significantly different) when I update next year. And believe it or not, I'm completely comfortable with this.
When I turned 23, I had an amazing celebratory weekend with my family and our oldest and dearest friends, the Crafts/Hobans. I was new to Chicago at that point, and my 23rd year felt ripe with possibilities and opportunities. I was sure I'd land a full-time job after my WGN internship, and that by my 24th year, I'd be completely settled in my city life.
Then real life happened. The year came and went, and with it, so did my hopes for making Chicago my permanent home. I turned 24 back where I had started -- on Chippewa Lake. I actually didn't even post an update on my 24th birthday, because what was there to say? I hated my job. I was living in seclusion at the lake. I missed Chicago terribly. The year wasn't off to a great start.
Within a few weeks, though, things turned around. A couple of job interviews came up -- one for my dream job, and one for a complete career shift in a city I'd never been to -- Cincinnati. We all know which I chose :)
That year turned out to be incredibly challenging -- and fulfilling -- which I talk about in my 25th birthday update. I anticipated that 25 would be a good year for me, and it was. Self-fulfilling prophecy, perhaps? Whether it was me who made it good for myself, or the universe deciding to give me a break, I'm not sure -- but it's been a good ride.
As most of you may know, I spend a lot of time thinking about my birthday in the weeks (ok, months) leading up to it. Generally, I think about where I thought I'd be (married, babies), and where I'd like to be. This year, I haven't done much thinking about where I thought I'd be (I guess I never pondered life after marriage and babies). But when I think about where I want to be next year, all I can think is: here.
Unlike every birthday from the time I was old enough to recognize the perks of being older (riding without training wheels, getting my ears pierced, driver's training, college, etc.), this year the perk isn't really something tangible. Instead, the perk for turning 26 is that I get to keep living the fabulous life that is unfolding here in Cincinnati.
I guess that makes me a very lucky girl. Lucky x26, perhaps?
What's even more strange, though, is how this birthday feels compared to birthdays past. Every year, I feel like my birthday is full of expectations -- not so much for the day of (because my birthdays are always fabulous), but for the year ahead. More so than New Year's, my birthday is my fresh start and my clean slate.
This year is different.
For the first time, I don't need/want a fresh start or a clean slate. For the first time, I'm not sure that this year will be entirely different from the last, or that I'll be any different (well, I should say significantly different) when I update next year. And believe it or not, I'm completely comfortable with this.
When I turned 23, I had an amazing celebratory weekend with my family and our oldest and dearest friends, the Crafts/Hobans. I was new to Chicago at that point, and my 23rd year felt ripe with possibilities and opportunities. I was sure I'd land a full-time job after my WGN internship, and that by my 24th year, I'd be completely settled in my city life.
Then real life happened. The year came and went, and with it, so did my hopes for making Chicago my permanent home. I turned 24 back where I had started -- on Chippewa Lake. I actually didn't even post an update on my 24th birthday, because what was there to say? I hated my job. I was living in seclusion at the lake. I missed Chicago terribly. The year wasn't off to a great start.
Within a few weeks, though, things turned around. A couple of job interviews came up -- one for my dream job, and one for a complete career shift in a city I'd never been to -- Cincinnati. We all know which I chose :)
That year turned out to be incredibly challenging -- and fulfilling -- which I talk about in my 25th birthday update. I anticipated that 25 would be a good year for me, and it was. Self-fulfilling prophecy, perhaps? Whether it was me who made it good for myself, or the universe deciding to give me a break, I'm not sure -- but it's been a good ride.
As most of you may know, I spend a lot of time thinking about my birthday in the weeks (ok, months) leading up to it. Generally, I think about where I thought I'd be (married, babies), and where I'd like to be. This year, I haven't done much thinking about where I thought I'd be (I guess I never pondered life after marriage and babies). But when I think about where I want to be next year, all I can think is: here.
Unlike every birthday from the time I was old enough to recognize the perks of being older (riding without training wheels, getting my ears pierced, driver's training, college, etc.), this year the perk isn't really something tangible. Instead, the perk for turning 26 is that I get to keep living the fabulous life that is unfolding here in Cincinnati.
I guess that makes me a very lucky girl. Lucky x26, perhaps?
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
The End of My Beginning in Cincinnati.
With the click of a door and the turn of a lock, my first phase of Cincinnati living has officially come to a close.
It's bizarre that I had to go back through two years of updates to find my first mention of Jess, in November 2010. I met her at a Habitat for Humanity YP event just a week after my dad moved me out of Walnut Hills. Still terrified of the city, Jess was the rock I needed most at that time -- a careful planner and always-alert woman, she never mocked my insecurity about being alone or my desire to only go out during the day.
Together, we found a few of my favorite places in the city -- Findlay Market, Sharon Woods, the Esquire Theatre. But this week, she's off on a new adventure: Yale Law School.
As we said our goodbyes tonight after a final show at The Esquire (if you haven't seen "Lola Versus" -- stop reading and go see it NOW. Especially if you're a single 20-something woman) and a dinner of half-okay sushi in Clifton, I got in my car and couldn't help feeling like the first act of my life here was over. Dunzo. Fin.
Recently, I haven't seen Jess all that often. She was busy training for the Flying Pig and -- oh yeah -- getting into every Ivy League law school in the country, and I was making new friends and exploring new things. But during that time, it became clear that she was that friend I could always meet up and pick up with, no matter where we had left off. I found myself losing track of stories tonight, thinking has it really been so long, I haven't told you that?
I have a few other friends like this, which comforts me as I uneasily come to grips with my constant leaving me. I'm sure it won't be too long until an email is exchanged, or a boy situation requires immediate attention. I'm also planning a trip to the east coast, which, of course, will require a visit to New Haven (70% for Jess, 30% so I can pretend to be Rory Gilmore for a day). And this isn't the first time I'm "losing" someone I care about because life leads us different ways. I'll never forget sobbing on my front porch after Allyson left my house the morning I left for CMU and she left for MSU. I'll never forget my last moments swigging champagne in my Jeep with my sisters as we squealed into commencement a few minutes late.
The difference this time, though, is Jess and I are going completely different ways. I'm staying in Cincinnati because -- well, I'm a big kid now, and this is where my job is -- and she's going back to school. I have no doubt her next move will be just as big, somewhere far away from the Midwest -- but there's time to watch all that unfurl.
Jess, thank you for being such a wonderful friend during such a trying time. Thank you for listening to my melodramas, and remembering the details of who's whom, whom I dislike today, and whom I may want to fall in love with tomorrow. And most of all, thank you for being such a big part of one of my greatest adventures.
It's bizarre that I had to go back through two years of updates to find my first mention of Jess, in November 2010. I met her at a Habitat for Humanity YP event just a week after my dad moved me out of Walnut Hills. Still terrified of the city, Jess was the rock I needed most at that time -- a careful planner and always-alert woman, she never mocked my insecurity about being alone or my desire to only go out during the day.
Together, we found a few of my favorite places in the city -- Findlay Market, Sharon Woods, the Esquire Theatre. But this week, she's off on a new adventure: Yale Law School.
As we said our goodbyes tonight after a final show at The Esquire (if you haven't seen "Lola Versus" -- stop reading and go see it NOW. Especially if you're a single 20-something woman) and a dinner of half-okay sushi in Clifton, I got in my car and couldn't help feeling like the first act of my life here was over. Dunzo. Fin.
Recently, I haven't seen Jess all that often. She was busy training for the Flying Pig and -- oh yeah -- getting into every Ivy League law school in the country, and I was making new friends and exploring new things. But during that time, it became clear that she was that friend I could always meet up and pick up with, no matter where we had left off. I found myself losing track of stories tonight, thinking has it really been so long, I haven't told you that?
I have a few other friends like this, which comforts me as I uneasily come to grips with my constant leaving me. I'm sure it won't be too long until an email is exchanged, or a boy situation requires immediate attention. I'm also planning a trip to the east coast, which, of course, will require a visit to New Haven (70% for Jess, 30% so I can pretend to be Rory Gilmore for a day). And this isn't the first time I'm "losing" someone I care about because life leads us different ways. I'll never forget sobbing on my front porch after Allyson left my house the morning I left for CMU and she left for MSU. I'll never forget my last moments swigging champagne in my Jeep with my sisters as we squealed into commencement a few minutes late.
The difference this time, though, is Jess and I are going completely different ways. I'm staying in Cincinnati because -- well, I'm a big kid now, and this is where my job is -- and she's going back to school. I have no doubt her next move will be just as big, somewhere far away from the Midwest -- but there's time to watch all that unfurl.
Jess, thank you for being such a wonderful friend during such a trying time. Thank you for listening to my melodramas, and remembering the details of who's whom, whom I dislike today, and whom I may want to fall in love with tomorrow. And most of all, thank you for being such a big part of one of my greatest adventures.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Steel-toed Boots or Hurdles? It's Up to Me.
About a month ago, I was gazing longingly at the month of June -- just a calendar page in a year that's racing by so quickly, I can barely keep up. From Memorial Day Weekend forward, my life was going to be a jumble of old friends and celebrations, and I couldn't wait for all the excitement to begin.
What I hadn't accounted for were those pesky days in between the weekends -- you know, the ones filled with work and moving (yes, again).
But with undoubtedly one of the most stressful weeks of all time behind me, I woke up this morning with an overwhelming sense of happiness. I'm in my new apartment, even if I'm not completely unpacked, and it seems like my cell is vibrating with fabulous news every day. From engagements to babies (more BOYS!!!) to weddings to new jobs -- the lives of the people I love most look amazing right now. Mine does, too, actually.
After a couple of very stressful years, I've become accustomed to the other shoe dropping, so to speak. And until last week, I had been holding my breath -- expecting a steel-toed boot to come stomping down on me. And just like all self-fulfilling prophecies, it did. Within days, a couple of unexpected phone calls and emails threw me into a tailspin, a killer hangover ruined an entire Saturday, and a change up at work had me scrambling to get my footing. Thank you, Universe.
Now, a few days removed, I realize what I felt wasn't the steel-toed boot -- well, it might have been, but instead of crushing me, it just tripped me. I stumbled, but I kept running. I barrelled through the crazy work week, I accepted and let go of one ridiculous phone call, and embraced a new direction that came from a second. It feels amazing.
Of everything I'm learning about myself these days, this might be the most significant lesson I've had in a while -- the boot only stomps if I let it. I also think that's the difference between someone who seems to have all the luck and someone who doesn't. We all have boots ready to stomp or trip us up, but it's not the Universe or the boot that decides which it will be. It's each of us that gets to choose whether a setback will be a debilitating blow, or if it will just be a hurdle to crawl under, leap over or run through.
From now on, I'm choosing hurdles.
What I hadn't accounted for were those pesky days in between the weekends -- you know, the ones filled with work and moving (yes, again).
But with undoubtedly one of the most stressful weeks of all time behind me, I woke up this morning with an overwhelming sense of happiness. I'm in my new apartment, even if I'm not completely unpacked, and it seems like my cell is vibrating with fabulous news every day. From engagements to babies (more BOYS!!!) to weddings to new jobs -- the lives of the people I love most look amazing right now. Mine does, too, actually.
After a couple of very stressful years, I've become accustomed to the other shoe dropping, so to speak. And until last week, I had been holding my breath -- expecting a steel-toed boot to come stomping down on me. And just like all self-fulfilling prophecies, it did. Within days, a couple of unexpected phone calls and emails threw me into a tailspin, a killer hangover ruined an entire Saturday, and a change up at work had me scrambling to get my footing. Thank you, Universe.
Now, a few days removed, I realize what I felt wasn't the steel-toed boot -- well, it might have been, but instead of crushing me, it just tripped me. I stumbled, but I kept running. I barrelled through the crazy work week, I accepted and let go of one ridiculous phone call, and embraced a new direction that came from a second. It feels amazing.
Of everything I'm learning about myself these days, this might be the most significant lesson I've had in a while -- the boot only stomps if I let it. I also think that's the difference between someone who seems to have all the luck and someone who doesn't. We all have boots ready to stomp or trip us up, but it's not the Universe or the boot that decides which it will be. It's each of us that gets to choose whether a setback will be a debilitating blow, or if it will just be a hurdle to crawl under, leap over or run through.
From now on, I'm choosing hurdles.
Monday, May 7, 2012
What I've Learned Since Graduation
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| My graduation from Central Michigan University, May 2009 |
It's been a trip, to say the least. Many of the details have already been chronicled here, so I'll spare you a recap. Instead, here are the 11 greatest lessons I've learned since graduation:
1. Open your heart to new people. If it weren't for Facebook, there are only a few people you'd keep in touch with from your co-ed days. As you move around, keep that in mind. Making friends is more challenging now than it was in college, because you won't have the instant camaraderie you did in your dorm or the common ground of wearing the same letters, but the friendships you build post-graduation are just as fulfilling.
2. Find a friend whose work is similar to yours. Preferably, this is someone who isn't in your office (too much conflict of interest), but who has a similar work environment to yours. These are the people who can commiserate with you when a client won't return documents on time, or a colleague throws you under the bus in front of your boss, or you had to work from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. all last week. Friends whose jobs are totally different from yours will have just as much trouble relating to your frustrations and lending support, as you will have during their moments of struggle.
3. Step up your dating game. Unlike college, and similar to the friend note above, you won't have a built-in baseline with your dates in the Big Kid World. You probably won't have mutual friends, you may not even be Facebook friends yet (limits the stalkability of said date), so you really have to start from square one. Have an arsenal of great date ideas in your back pocket (hint, coffee isn't one of them...) that are active, relaxing and fun -- think a cooking class, visiting a great park or taking a walking tour of a cool neighborhood. Awkward silences are easier to stomach when you're not staring at someone and grasping for a new topic. Also, these dates are memorable and can pretty much guarantee you a second.
4. Forget how you thought your life was supposed to look. Do yourself a favor, and don't tie yourself down to something as fleeting as an idea. You might have imagined your life a certain way, but the universe might have something even better in store for you.
5. Accept help if it's being offered. As a general rule of life, don't always try and be the hero. If you're struggling to make ends meet, and your parents offer to help you out with rent, don't be too proud to say "Ok. Thank you." It feels amazing to do it on your own, but you'll never get there if you don't have a few moments of stability to help you see the light at the end of the tunnel.
6. Make connections. Face-to-face networking is not dead, nor will it ever be. If you're job searching, don't be afraid to go to a seminar or convention for people in the industry you want to work in. People will be impressed with your chutzpah, and you'll stand out because Millennials are notorious for leaving all their networking to the virtual world. The next part of this is to take advantage of every connection you make. If someone is willing to give you advice -- even if it's not the advice you want or maybe need -- take it!!!
7. Step up your wardrobe. The laid back, natural, messy look only works on campus. Find a hairstyle that suits you and plan to keep it maintained. Ladies, experiment with the makeup that makes you look and feel your best. Gentlemen, know how many days you can pull off not shaving. Ditch your graphic Ts and opt for basic V-necks from Gap or Banana -- they're colorful and fun while looking polished. In general, think classic with a few trendy pieces for flare. Finally, it's time to stop running errands in your pajamas.
8. Build a routine. The Big Kid World is exhausting. There's no sleeping in because you don't have class until noon; and no chance to make a judgment call on whether work is worth the effort today. A bed time will be your best friend.
9. Have a plan. In college, flying by the seat of your pants is fun. In the Big Kid World, no one is impressed that you slept all day Saturday. No one is jealous that you are planning to live footloose and fancy free until you're 35. Actually, this repels people. Know what you want to do in 10 minutes, 10 days and 10 years.
10. Give yourself the flexibility to veer off course. Sure, you need the 10-minute, 10-day and 10-year plans, but don't get so caught up in them that you're not able to seize the great opportunities that will inevitably come your way.
11. Listen to your gut and take chances. This is cliche, but it's true. If you're not married and you don't have kids, now is the time to take a few risks. If your heart is telling you to take a job in a new city (ahem, Cincinnati), even though you live in the most amazing city ever (uh, Chicago!) -- then move to Cincinnati! If your heart is saying take the job that sounds boring because the team is amazing (ahem, my current job), even though your dream job (communication coordinator for a state house of representatives) is being offered at the same time -- take the one that sounds boring, but feels right! You don't have anything to lose, and at the end of the day, you may regret impulse decisions or decisions you make because you think (with your head) it's the right one -- but you'll never regret the ones that you make based on that little voice inside that says "This is the right answer...and you know it!!!"
Congratulations to Laura and all her Dayton classmates -- welcome to the Big Kid World!
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| My sister, Laura's, graduation from the University of Dayton, May 2012 |
Thursday, April 5, 2012
My Identity Crisis.
There are only a couple times each year that I truly feel like an outsider in Cincinnati -- when U of M plays Ohio State (GO BLUE!!!) and on Opening Day.
Not unlike Detroit, Opening Day in Cincinnati is a big deal. No one goes to work (except me), people start lining up at 7 a.m. for a parade that happens at 1 p.m., and the downtown area essentially shuts down for a massive festival. So, what's a baseball lover and Detroit fan to do in a sea of Reds?
I had to answer that age-old question this morning as I selected my outfit for the day, knowing full well that a Reds shirt meant a casual day at work (and c'mon, the Catholic schooler in me can't pass up a jeans day for ANYTHING), but not wanting to fully embrace Reds mania.
Of course, this isn't the first time I've had to wrestle with my baseball allegiances. After all, for most of 2009 and part of 2010, I lived a block from Wrigley Field. This was kind of cool because, well, it's Wrigley Field -- but I can't express in words how much I hate the Cubs. Seriously. To really convey how much I hate the Cubs, you'd have to see me in person. When they're mentioned, I scrunch up my face, roll my eyes, say something obnoxious about the most obnoxious team in baseball, then start to wax poetic about the wonders of the Tigers.
In spite of all that, though, I did buy a Cubs shirt once (on sale, with a player's name on the back who'd been traded two seasons prior) to wear for my first trip to Wrigley to see the Cubs play the Nationals. I chose the game I'd go to carefully, because if I was going to have to watch the Cubs, I at least wanted to see them win. Of course, they did, because the only team worse than the Cubs is the Nationals. Tigers, Cubs, Reds -- in the end, I guess it doesn't really matter. Above everything else, I love baseball. I love stadiums. I love hotdogs and beer. So this morning, I pulled on my Reds shirt and hung up my Detroit hat. I'll always be a Tigers fan -- and when they play the Reds in June, you bet I'll be chanting "Eat 'em up!!!" at all three games -- but as long as the Reds and the Tigs are in different leagues, there can be room in my heart for both.
Happy Opening Day!!!
Monday, February 6, 2012
Moving across state lines sucks. Plain and simple.
Since this blog started as a means to chronicle my post-graduate move to Chicago, as well as the trials and tribulations I face in the Big Kid World, I might as well talk a little bit about what I've learned moving from state-to-state.
First, moving to Kentucky in August has been the gift that keeps on giving -- or rather, I'm the gift that keeps on giving to the city of Covington in the form of parking tickets and license fees. You're welcome, Covington.
Let me preface this story with this: my busy season at work lasts from about mid-July through October. During that time, I was in my office between 6 and 7 a.m. every day, and often didn't leave until 6 or 7 in the evening, only to go home and edit or check client websites. This was also the time I chose to move from Ohio to Kentucky. Finally, this story chronicles only my issues with the states of Ohio and Kentucky, as well as my bank, making the move impossible -- I won't even go into the issues with being double charged for insurance when the company I have auto and renters through didn't cancel my Ohio policy when I started my Kentucky one. Ok, here we go.
When I moved to Ohio, switching my license plate and title from Michigan was a nightmare. My mom is on my car title (thanks for the better interest rate, Mom!), which threw a wrench in a smooth transitional process. Well, that and apparently transferring titles in or out of Ohio is insanely complicated, even with only one title-holder. The process requires power of attorney forms, applications, fees and lots of paperwork, but nowhere is there a comprehensive list of all these things. Calling also isn't helpful, because no matter who you talk to at any Ohio Bureau of Motor Vehicles branch, they won't know of all the forms either. Basically, visits to the office to went like this:
Lindsay: Hi, I'm here to get a copy of my Ohio title so I can transfer my plates to Kentucky. My mom is also on the title, and I have this notarized Power of Attorney form from her. I also have my proof of insurance, birth certificate and driver's license.
Lady at the Counter: Do you have a copy of your mom's social security card (or form 9874B, or application C731928383, or whatever obscure piece of paper they also wanted signed)?
Lindsay: No, I wasn't told I need that.
Lady at the Counter: Oh, that's too bad. Yeah, I can't help you without it.
This went on for weeks -- well, when I was able to get away from my office to spend a few hours at the BMV, that is. You may ask: Lindsay, why didn't you just renew your Ohio plate and call it a day? Great question. I couldn't because responsible Big Kid Lindsay transferred her car and renter's insurance to Kentucky immediately after moving. Without proof of Ohio insurance, Ohio won't renew your plates. So...
In a fit of rage during one of these visits, I asked what it would take to just get my mother off the title of my car, because even a low interest rate wasn't worth the stress and time spent jumping through these hoops. The BMV lady told me matter-of-factly: "If you were to refinance your car, the bank will remove your mother's name and it will cut down on a lot of paperwork."
So, off to the bank I went. I confirmed with the bank manager, the same bank I originally financed my car through, that I could refinance and they would do all the title transfers for me. Within a couple days, I had my new loan and it felt like a million pounds had been lifted off my shoulders. I would finally have Kentucky license plates, and I would stop getting parking tickets for my expired Ohio one. This was in November, the day I left to visit my friend Allie in California; three and a half months after I moved to Kentucky.
When I got back from California, I still hadn't received my new title or license plates in the mail, so I called the bank to follow up. I was told it could take up to two weeks to receive everything, so not to worry. Another week went by, and still nothing. So I called back and left a message for the branch manager who I'd worked with for my loan. When I didn't hear back, I called again. And again. Finally, he returned my call to tell me that he'd made a mistake, and the bank actually couldn't do inter-state transfers, so I would have to go back to the state of Ohio to get my title and then transfer it to Kentucky myself. You know, the process I had started almost four months earlier.
At about this time, I got pulled over for my expired plates. To be honest, I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner. I'd already been given four parking tickets (at $50 a pop) for parking on the street with an expired plate. I explained the whole situation to the officer, who nodded his head knowingly and said, "I just moved here from Ohio, too. Switching my license plate was the worst experience -- and I'm the only one on my title! In all, I spent about 15 hours at the BMV trying to get all the stuff I needed." Since we were buddies in our mutual hatred for the Ohio BMV, he gave me a "fix-it ticket" and said as long as I showed up to court in five weeks with proof that my plates were updated, I wouldn't have to pay a fine. He also suggested that in the meantime, I get a temporary plate from the state of Kentucky. So, that's what I did.
A few days later, I flew to Michigan for the holidays. With my temporary plate taped in my back window, I wasn't worried about being ticketed while I was gone. I spent a good part of my trip on the phone with the bank trying to resolve getting my mom off the title, because in a strange twist, even refinancing wasn't enough to get her off it. I still don't understand why. Anyway, after many phone calls with me, the bank and my mom on the line, we had finally reached a solution. I was to drive to the bank when I got back to Kentucky, pick up a whole packet of paperwork, and take it with me to the BMV -- that would solve my problems and Kentucky plates would be mine.
Well, that is unless your car is towed while you're out of town because the plates are expired.
No, I'm not kidding. My car, with the temporary plates taped up in the window, was towed on December 29. I returned on January 2.
After a thousand angry phone calls, I finally figured out where my car was. I was told I could pick it up at 8:30 the next morning at the far edge of Covington (about five miles from my apartment near downtown Covington). So, the next day, my roommate took me down to the lot and dropped me off on her way to work. When the lot opened, I was ready to get my car and get going -- but it's not that simple in the city of Covington. Oh no. My exchange with the impound lady went something like this:
Lindsay: I'm here to pick up my white Pontiac Vibe.
Impound Lady: Oh, I spoke to you yesterday! What a cute car! I just need your payment receipt.
Lindsay: I haven't paid you yet.
Impound Lady: You don't pay to get your car here, you pay it at the Finance Office in the city building downtown.
Lindsay: What? You didn't tell me that yesterday. You told me to come here and pick up my car at 8:30.
Impound Lady: Oh...well, you have to go downtown to pay it. I can't accept payment here.
Lindsay: How am I going to get downtown? You have my car and my roommate dropped me off and left because I'M SUPPOSED TO DRIVE OUT OF HERE WITH MY CAR.
Impound Lady: Well, maybe an officer can pick you up and take you. But it'll be about 45 minutes until one gets here.
This went on for a while. Finally, she agreed to call the Finance Office, and they agreed to take my debit card number over the phone. $183 later, I drove away in my car -- temporary license in the back window right where I had left it.
I spent that afternoon getting the paperwork at the bank then at the Ohio and Kentucky BMVs. By 4:55 that day, I had my new Kentucky license plate.
Ah, relief :)
But that's not the end of the story, of course. This is me we're talking about, which means the saga continues.
Last week, I got an envelope in the mail that says: DELINQUENT VIOLATION NOTICE for a parking ticket I received at 8 a.m. the day my car was towed. Another $50 for the expired plate -- even though, if I may remind you, I had a temporary plate on my car. Now, when I picked up my car, there was no ticket on it, and when I paid for the towing, I'd assumed I was paying for everything associated with the towing. I mean, that makes sense, right?
Well, after a call to the city of Covington, I learned that it's not that simple. Since I didn't ask to pay my parking ticket at that time, they didn't charge me for it. Well, wasn't that nice of them to consider whether or not I wanted to pay all my fees?! I said I didn't even know I'd had a parking ticket because there wasn't one on my car, and since they were charging me for everything involved with the tow, why wouldn't they charge me the parking ticket??? The woman said it's because they just don't roll all the fees into one. They just don't.
So, now I owe Covington another $50. Of course, I could have contested the ticket in January, but now that it's been more than a week, I have to pay it. If I don't, my car will get towed -- again.
Through this experience, I've learned a couple things. First, I can never move out of the state of Kentucky. Never. Ever. Never ever. Next, I will never have a car loan with any one else ever again. Finally, I will always take two vacation days after moving to a new state (if I ever get the gumption to move again), in order to make sure all these details are taken care of. The depth of red tape that each state has is absolutely nuts -- I mean, the hubris of state government is insane -- it should never be this complicated to move to a new state within the same country. But that's another rant for another time.
There you have it, friends. That's the story. If you have the balls to move after reading that -- let me know. I have a really long list of forms you might need that I can share.
First, moving to Kentucky in August has been the gift that keeps on giving -- or rather, I'm the gift that keeps on giving to the city of Covington in the form of parking tickets and license fees. You're welcome, Covington.
Let me preface this story with this: my busy season at work lasts from about mid-July through October. During that time, I was in my office between 6 and 7 a.m. every day, and often didn't leave until 6 or 7 in the evening, only to go home and edit or check client websites. This was also the time I chose to move from Ohio to Kentucky. Finally, this story chronicles only my issues with the states of Ohio and Kentucky, as well as my bank, making the move impossible -- I won't even go into the issues with being double charged for insurance when the company I have auto and renters through didn't cancel my Ohio policy when I started my Kentucky one. Ok, here we go.
When I moved to Ohio, switching my license plate and title from Michigan was a nightmare. My mom is on my car title (thanks for the better interest rate, Mom!), which threw a wrench in a smooth transitional process. Well, that and apparently transferring titles in or out of Ohio is insanely complicated, even with only one title-holder. The process requires power of attorney forms, applications, fees and lots of paperwork, but nowhere is there a comprehensive list of all these things. Calling also isn't helpful, because no matter who you talk to at any Ohio Bureau of Motor Vehicles branch, they won't know of all the forms either. Basically, visits to the office to went like this:
Lindsay: Hi, I'm here to get a copy of my Ohio title so I can transfer my plates to Kentucky. My mom is also on the title, and I have this notarized Power of Attorney form from her. I also have my proof of insurance, birth certificate and driver's license.
Lady at the Counter: Do you have a copy of your mom's social security card (or form 9874B, or application C731928383, or whatever obscure piece of paper they also wanted signed)?
Lindsay: No, I wasn't told I need that.
Lady at the Counter: Oh, that's too bad. Yeah, I can't help you without it.
This went on for weeks -- well, when I was able to get away from my office to spend a few hours at the BMV, that is. You may ask: Lindsay, why didn't you just renew your Ohio plate and call it a day? Great question. I couldn't because responsible Big Kid Lindsay transferred her car and renter's insurance to Kentucky immediately after moving. Without proof of Ohio insurance, Ohio won't renew your plates. So...
In a fit of rage during one of these visits, I asked what it would take to just get my mother off the title of my car, because even a low interest rate wasn't worth the stress and time spent jumping through these hoops. The BMV lady told me matter-of-factly: "If you were to refinance your car, the bank will remove your mother's name and it will cut down on a lot of paperwork."
So, off to the bank I went. I confirmed with the bank manager, the same bank I originally financed my car through, that I could refinance and they would do all the title transfers for me. Within a couple days, I had my new loan and it felt like a million pounds had been lifted off my shoulders. I would finally have Kentucky license plates, and I would stop getting parking tickets for my expired Ohio one. This was in November, the day I left to visit my friend Allie in California; three and a half months after I moved to Kentucky.
When I got back from California, I still hadn't received my new title or license plates in the mail, so I called the bank to follow up. I was told it could take up to two weeks to receive everything, so not to worry. Another week went by, and still nothing. So I called back and left a message for the branch manager who I'd worked with for my loan. When I didn't hear back, I called again. And again. Finally, he returned my call to tell me that he'd made a mistake, and the bank actually couldn't do inter-state transfers, so I would have to go back to the state of Ohio to get my title and then transfer it to Kentucky myself. You know, the process I had started almost four months earlier.
At about this time, I got pulled over for my expired plates. To be honest, I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner. I'd already been given four parking tickets (at $50 a pop) for parking on the street with an expired plate. I explained the whole situation to the officer, who nodded his head knowingly and said, "I just moved here from Ohio, too. Switching my license plate was the worst experience -- and I'm the only one on my title! In all, I spent about 15 hours at the BMV trying to get all the stuff I needed." Since we were buddies in our mutual hatred for the Ohio BMV, he gave me a "fix-it ticket" and said as long as I showed up to court in five weeks with proof that my plates were updated, I wouldn't have to pay a fine. He also suggested that in the meantime, I get a temporary plate from the state of Kentucky. So, that's what I did.
A few days later, I flew to Michigan for the holidays. With my temporary plate taped in my back window, I wasn't worried about being ticketed while I was gone. I spent a good part of my trip on the phone with the bank trying to resolve getting my mom off the title, because in a strange twist, even refinancing wasn't enough to get her off it. I still don't understand why. Anyway, after many phone calls with me, the bank and my mom on the line, we had finally reached a solution. I was to drive to the bank when I got back to Kentucky, pick up a whole packet of paperwork, and take it with me to the BMV -- that would solve my problems and Kentucky plates would be mine.
Well, that is unless your car is towed while you're out of town because the plates are expired.
No, I'm not kidding. My car, with the temporary plates taped up in the window, was towed on December 29. I returned on January 2.
After a thousand angry phone calls, I finally figured out where my car was. I was told I could pick it up at 8:30 the next morning at the far edge of Covington (about five miles from my apartment near downtown Covington). So, the next day, my roommate took me down to the lot and dropped me off on her way to work. When the lot opened, I was ready to get my car and get going -- but it's not that simple in the city of Covington. Oh no. My exchange with the impound lady went something like this:
Lindsay: I'm here to pick up my white Pontiac Vibe.
Impound Lady: Oh, I spoke to you yesterday! What a cute car! I just need your payment receipt.
Lindsay: I haven't paid you yet.
Impound Lady: You don't pay to get your car here, you pay it at the Finance Office in the city building downtown.
Lindsay: What? You didn't tell me that yesterday. You told me to come here and pick up my car at 8:30.
Impound Lady: Oh...well, you have to go downtown to pay it. I can't accept payment here.
Lindsay: How am I going to get downtown? You have my car and my roommate dropped me off and left because I'M SUPPOSED TO DRIVE OUT OF HERE WITH MY CAR.
Impound Lady: Well, maybe an officer can pick you up and take you. But it'll be about 45 minutes until one gets here.
This went on for a while. Finally, she agreed to call the Finance Office, and they agreed to take my debit card number over the phone. $183 later, I drove away in my car -- temporary license in the back window right where I had left it.
I spent that afternoon getting the paperwork at the bank then at the Ohio and Kentucky BMVs. By 4:55 that day, I had my new Kentucky license plate.
Ah, relief :)
But that's not the end of the story, of course. This is me we're talking about, which means the saga continues.
Last week, I got an envelope in the mail that says: DELINQUENT VIOLATION NOTICE for a parking ticket I received at 8 a.m. the day my car was towed. Another $50 for the expired plate -- even though, if I may remind you, I had a temporary plate on my car. Now, when I picked up my car, there was no ticket on it, and when I paid for the towing, I'd assumed I was paying for everything associated with the towing. I mean, that makes sense, right?
Well, after a call to the city of Covington, I learned that it's not that simple. Since I didn't ask to pay my parking ticket at that time, they didn't charge me for it. Well, wasn't that nice of them to consider whether or not I wanted to pay all my fees?! I said I didn't even know I'd had a parking ticket because there wasn't one on my car, and since they were charging me for everything involved with the tow, why wouldn't they charge me the parking ticket??? The woman said it's because they just don't roll all the fees into one. They just don't.
So, now I owe Covington another $50. Of course, I could have contested the ticket in January, but now that it's been more than a week, I have to pay it. If I don't, my car will get towed -- again.
Through this experience, I've learned a couple things. First, I can never move out of the state of Kentucky. Never. Ever. Never ever. Next, I will never have a car loan with any one else ever again. Finally, I will always take two vacation days after moving to a new state (if I ever get the gumption to move again), in order to make sure all these details are taken care of. The depth of red tape that each state has is absolutely nuts -- I mean, the hubris of state government is insane -- it should never be this complicated to move to a new state within the same country. But that's another rant for another time.
There you have it, friends. That's the story. If you have the balls to move after reading that -- let me know. I have a really long list of forms you might need that I can share.
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