General, Politics

Fear, Emptiness, Despair

11.06.07 | Comment?

My mother-in-law is visiting.  It is actually always pleasant to have her stay with us.  Yesterday she and Mrs The Fyd spent some time baking and cleaning.  The clean kitchen apparently meant that cooking dinner was unthinkable, so take-out from Fujin’s was the order of the day.  I requested Mongolian Beef and so made out like hell of yurt.  And just like Ice Cube, “I got my grub on/but didn’t pig out” and so there are leftovers awaiting me when I get home tonight.  Or rather, they should await; we shall wait and see.

Speaking of baking, Mrs The Fyd seems to be trying to kill me.  One of the items she and her mother produced yesterday is an almond-toffee confection.  I sampled this late last night and almost fell to gruffling the entire batch.  My wife has hardened her heart against me and wishes to harden my arteries against me.

In other news, the Ducks have picked up a second first-place vote from another coach.  My guess is it’s Dennis Erickson’s.  Will Mike Stoops vote likewise in two weeks, should the Ducks win in the desert?  Will Karl Dorrell still be eligible to vote in three weeks’ time?

Speaking of voting, today is that day for our civic duty.  Or rather the day the votes are counted, considering that with Oregon’s vote-by-mail system the first Tuesday in November no longer signifies the search and march to one’s local polling station.  Since Mrs The Fyd and I only got around to filling out our ballots on Sunday, I’ll be walking a few blocks from the office to drop them off at the place established for the tardy, so it’ll almost feel traditional. 

Even when we voted in person, we still had to fill in the ballots with a pen.  I’ve never used an election machine, so the “pulling the lever” for a party meme eludes me.  I am ever more cut off from the shared experiences of the polity.

Thankfully this election’s ballot measures are principally house-keeping measures and so I won’t feel much further alienated from the attitudes of a significant swath of the electorate.  There’s no vile proposition this year to whisk away rights from an entire class of citizens.   Looking ahead, I wonder if I will be able to stomach one of the presidential candidates next year; three years ago I could not abide either party’s man and voted for a friend instead.  At least I know this time for sure who I won’t be voting for: the fellow whose initials are RP and whose devotees scan the intertubes for any mention of whom and then proceed to fill the most humble blogs with the good news of their Savior.

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