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Woo hoo:

Credit: personal photo by Mr. Taco. It is SO WINDY.
Sixty-seven days out, we went to SF City Hall to snag our license. It’s conveniently located across the street from our venue (see above), so we snapped this commemorative shot while waiting for our return bus. We solemnly swore that we filled out the information correctly: names, addresses, parents’ names, and places of birth. I guess we indirectly solemnly swore that we were not homosexual (not like they checked our parts or anything) or related, too. I almost paid for the souvenir public license, then wondered what we’d do with it exactly. It’s way too big for my scrapbook, and we don’t even have our diplomas on the wall; so, it’s probably just as well.
It’s nice to have this item checked off, but it’s also the first time I saw my new name on something official. That was my favorite part.
Next step: don’t lose it.
When did you get your license? Did you have a good time, or was it akin to waiting in line at the post office or DMV? Where’s it living until you get married? Seriously, don’t lose it if your municipalities are anything like ours!
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