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The last day of work for the year.

I think I'm the one of two people working in my entire building today. This is a popular week for everyone's vacations, because we have two paid days off each week for Christmas and New Year's. I can't say as I blame them for their absence; but I keep firmly reminding myself that the more days I work now, the more days I can spend in the tropics on my honeymoon.

It's snowing another three inches today.

Forest and I haven't been particularly busy this week. We've basically cleaned up from the fallout of the holiday, and for the most part we've been working and reading a lot as usual. I have been dealing with all kinds of beaurocracy, this week, though. I had information from several different people that there is a backlog at the US passport office, and that people are urged to apply for their passports months in advance of any sort of international travel. I had planned to get our passports taken care of in January, since the lady at the passport office assured me that having my name changed on my travel papers would be 'no trouble at all'. On the contrary, my sister Karen informs me that it took her many forms, and a frightened drive to Chicago and persuant long wait in line in order to get hers done in time for her honeymoon.

Since I'm not minded to take any chances like that, I'm changing my name right now. I spent my allotted time in line at the Secretary of State, and got a lovely new drivers' license picture taken; in the sweater Forest got me for Christmas, no less. Then I waited for over an hour and took care of the Social Security Administration, and then informed three different people at my credit union of the change.

Right now I feel as if I'm in limbo; because changing my credit cards and mortgage (school records, checks, taxes, etc.) will have to wait until I receive the new drivers' license and social security card. Nonetheless, the deed is done. My name is now Wendy Marie-Huber Tate. I decided on the spur of the moment to follow my sister's lead, and put my maiden name in there hyphenated with my middle name. We're the last "Hubers" of our family, and we're all girls; so it will be sort of nice for my dad's side of the family to carry on the line, so to speak. My, doesn't that sound positively medieval?

If I was really going to be thorough, I would name myself Wendy Marie Huber Collins Tate; but that's just too much to have to write on my tax forms every year; plus I don't think the girl at the Secretary of State would have had the IQ necessary to read a name that long, much less type it into her all-powerful computer. Instead, I decided that my name might just as well encompass my life, from the time I was born until now; therefore sort of implying all the things that came between. I think 'Wendy Marie-Huber Tate' does that well enough.

Don't worry, I don't plan to put that on my business cards or anything. I'll just be plain old Wendy Tate. It will definitely take a little getting used to.

I'm not really sure how to go about informing people of the change. I guess it doesn't really matter what they call me; as long as they send my paycheck to the right person. Gosh, I hope the paycheck I already have to cash will clear with my old name still on it.

All of this loveliness means that I can actually apply for the passport in January, and receive it in plenty of time for June's trip. It will also mean that our plane tickets and my passport and other forms of ID will all be consistent, which I guess is important to some anal-retentive customs officer somewhere.

I'm pretty excited, though. I sent in our reservation deposit for our honeymoon! There's no more probably; we will definitely be going; to a tiny little island in the West Indies. It's called Jost Van Dyke, and it's on the north end of the British Virgin Islands, between the Caribbean and Atlantic waters. It's a desert island, smaller than Mackinac, and less densely populated. Maybe I mentioned this to you before? I don't know; but it's too exciting not to repeat. We'll be renting a house on the beach there (although since we're tourists we're supposed to call it a 'villa'), which promises to be very isolated and quiet. The house purportedly fronts on White Bay, which is supposed to be one of the most beautiful beaches in the world. Wanna see?

I'm a little skeptical; it all sounds a little too good to be true; but as Forest says, "It's the Caribbean. We could stay in a shack on the worst damn beach around, and we'd still be happy." As I look at the mountain of snow outside, I'm inclined to agree with him. Any tropical beach, anywhere, is better than this.

Anyhow, the plan is that we'll be as isolated as we want to be, but if we choose to be gregarious, we aren't far from places where we can go out to eat and drink. There are also other islands very nearby to explore, and we're hoping to save enough money that we can hire a boat to take us scuba diving one day. The underwater views of the sea are supposed to be more spectacular than those on the surface.

I can't wait to see.

In the meantime, it's time for me to scrape the ice off from my poor frozen car, and go to my house, where I will spend the evening digging through the snowbanks, trying to find our trash bin. I know it's out there somewhere.