What witches wish for

Moments ago a neighbor stopped by. She spoke for a yet-untapped constituency: witches. Look closely, her buttons say “witches for Kerry.” The “Its up to the women” sticker was her treat for coming to my door.

which way will witches vote? click and see. 

Will Ocean survive the elections even if I don’t?

No, of course not. If I go, the blog goes. Conversely, if I survive, the blog will also toddle along. I remember writing some months ago how I will not let Ocean become a commentary on news reports. And indeed, even during the campaign months I rarely have felt compelled to sift through the news and pick on the substance or style of any story. But Ocean follows the proclivities and inclinations of moi*, and moi right now is obsessed with politics.

But more importantly, I am feeling a tiny tiny dose of optimism again. For one thing, a Packer person just informed me that the green team BEAT the Redskins and so a defeat of the incumbent is in the bag (see post below on the historic significance of a Redskins loss). And, another reader reminded me to check electoral-vote.com (here), which averages a number of credible polls. Take a look, all you perpetually-doubting-and-depressed-dubya-dissers: Kerry 283, Bush 246. And, if you click on the state of Wisconsin (or click here), you'll see some pretty amazing numbers and a wildly zig-zagging divergence.

I wonder if I bought enough champagne…

*that would be me

Third street pre-election diary*

3rd: the clouds recede, the skies turn blue 

Three, two, one -----then what?

This morning, what with the extra hour of sleep and a Sunday before me, I am sitting at home mulling over the various ways Tuesday/Wednesday may play out for me.

According to one scenario, I never make it to the polling place. That happened once before, though not in a presidential race. I ran out of time, the polls closed early and it was either voting or taking some child to some lesson or other. I chose the latter. Nothing happened – my candidate won anyway. But the guilt stayed with me, as even now I feel compelled to admit here on the blog to this past waywardness.

This year, the polling places remain open for a long time and I have no one to take anywhere (and no, I have not volunteered as an election monitor; one acquaintance who is doing this told me yesterday that she cannot imagine what possessed her to commit the day to a Madison voting place, as if we are anything at all like Florida or even Ohio). But I could freeze and not be able to walk the long distance (one block) to where I typically vote. It could happen.

Then, if I wake up and find that my vote, or rather its absence, tilted the election in an undesirable direction, I will channel all anger and frustration at myself rather than at the political candidate I have learned to fear and dread. Blaming yourself is always more rewarding than blaming someone else for a sad state of affairs because you can always seek to improve yourself whereas you can do nothing to affect the politics of George W Bush. Don’t fool yourself – the man is off limits and he wont listen to you anyway, even if you are a Person of Great Influence.

Second scenario: I vote for the wrong person by accident. I have studied the ballot and have even helped direct some to the proper management of THE LINE connecting the <-- to the – so that it forms a nice contiguous <---- to the Democrat side of things. But you know how it is in that makeshift contraption they call the voting booth. You get so nervous about doing the wrong thing that you wind up doing the wrong thing. And, let us not forget that this is my first presidential election since I have turned fifty. As Chef O says down at L’Etoile, crossing 50 is like having too many windows open on your computer screen – things begin to slow down. And, the hand may even shake a bit as it draws the connecting line. Does a wobbly line count?

Third scenario: I vote, the results slowly indicate that GWB won, I drink too much wine, forget to go to class the next day, get fired from my job, run out of unemployment, join some philanthropic organization providing direct services to orphans in Polish highlands and am never heard from again.

Fourth scenario: I vote, the results slowly indicate that GWB lost, I drink too much champagne, drink gallons of coffee the next morning, stumble into class and deliver a bad lecture, but most are forgiving (and the rest are too depressed to notice), then I come back home and sit in the back yard marveling at how magnificent the white pine is – the tree that we planted when it was just a couple of feet tall, that now looks almost as tall as the Empire State Building.

Which of the four is before me? Or is there a fifth? In three days I’ll know.

taking pleasure in things that grow 

(*see “forty-second street pre-election diary” post, September 22, for explanation of post title)