Vote

Election Day was a pretty big deal while I was growing up. My mom always worked the polls, Grandma always came over to spend the whole entire day taking care of us, and my pop, who really never went anywhere but work and to Ty's Daily Double once in a while after us kids were all in bed, always made it a point to go and vote.

Election Day was also a pretty big deal while my son was growing up. We'd get up extra early to go see Grammy at our precinct. All the poll worker ladies would make a big fuss over D and he'd get his own ballot to vote for which he liked better, hamburgers or hot dogs. He'd get his own I Voted Today sticker to wear proudly all day, along with a cookie or two, and then we'd be off to Hardee's for breakfast before work and school.

While I was getting ready to leave the house this morning, a DJ on the radio asked people who weren't planning to vote to call in and explain why not. I listened to one idiot after another ramble on about how their vote didn't matter, or how all politicians are scumbags.

Whatever. If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem.

Election Day turned out to be a pretty big deal for me today. Only two of the three new electronic machines were working in my precinct at 7:10 this morning, and for the first time in my life, I waited for probably fifteen minutes to do my civic duty. By the time it was my turn, well I should have been at work already. While I was busy voting, some guy I'd never seen before (which was a bit weird....it's a very small town and these people are mostly my neighbors) had a mini-hissy fit about I'm not sure what; the ID issue or the wait or the equipment failure. Pick one...there was a lot to be ticked off about. But he actually cussed out loud. In the throes of exercising my inalienable right to get called for jury duty, I basically ignored him, but he said something like, "This is bullshit," pretty loudly, and then, "I am never going to vote again."

Whatever. That's the way to show everyone what you're all about.

Personally, I bitch a lot about what's wrong with America. I bitch because I want us to be better human beings. I want us to take better care of our environment and our poor. I want us to be better neighbors and better citizens of this planet. I bitch because I love this country with all of my heart and I want it to be the best it can possibly be for each and every American.

And I have the right to bitch because I use the only power we all share equally to make this country better.

I vote.

Norm!

I've tooted off at length about how inadequate the channel selection is on my TV, so I won't go there; suffice to say I'm watching PBS while downloading wads of cr@p I don't need for my Sims. Two of my most favorite things to do on a Sunday.

So it's This Old House / Hometime hour. And I'm dreaming about how marvelous it would be to just be married to some Dean Johnson-type guy that could just make all the fix up decisions about this haunted mansion and just frickin fix it the heck up. Pick out the fixtures and the flooring. Decide how the kitchen should flow, knock down some walls, put a shower in the bathroom, take wiring from the 1920's and put cable and phone hookups in every room....and Dear Jesus? A socket on every wall. Truly? My wildest dream come true.

So while Dean is working for Habitat for Humanity, my mind is wandering back to the guys that do the work on This Old Haunted Mansion:

Norm Abhram wears flannel. He's been around forever. He can take a pile of half rotten boards out of an old closet and turn it into a china cupboard with lead glass accents. He's grizzled and folksy and barrel-chested and I bet he hunts, fishes and listens to country music in his spare time. He's nice. He's dependable. He's capable and comfortable and safe. He carefully restores things to their original condition if at all possible.

Richard Threthewy rips out thousand year old furnaces and water heaters and puts in at least a million BTU's of overkill. He wears button-down shirts. He's smart and sincere, always eager to help. He's kinda like the not-so-attractive rich guy that thinks driving a Porsche makes up for male pattern baldness.

Roger Cook is the gentle giant that yanks out dead trees and sickly shrubs and makes the outside of the house look as good as the inside. He wears Carharts. He's the strong silent type that nurtures the little Maple that will someday grow into lovely shade for the front porch. He's Paul Bunyon that flexes his muscles and picks up the dumpster with his bare hands and moves it to a more convenient location.

Tom Silva. Sigh. Tommy is the general contractor that knows how to do absolutely everything in the world. He wears fleece hoodies. He's got tools swinging from his belt and a Styrofoam cup of coffee in his hand during meetings. He's beautiful. I've watched him age gracefully through the years as he climbs onto roofs and into crawlspaces; calmly telling homeowners that their foundation will cave in if serious steps are not taken. But there's no need to panic; Tommy can fix anything. Tommy is my favorite. Tommy is handsome and capable and funny and decisive and charming. Tommy is everything I like about men. I'm completely and totally in love with Tommy.

So here's my question: How come I only attract guys like Norm?

Disgusting

Is it me or are TV commercials becoming a tad too...much?

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At least all the ads for that junk use medical jargon and relatively normal looking people to illustrate the nasty images they bring to mind. Eeewww.

But I just watched a big fat cartoon phlegm couple take up residence in some unsuspecting little kid's chest. And frankly, I think the phlegm couple might be related to that nasty toe fungus b@st@rd that gives me nightmares.

Did we really need to bring cartoons into this? Is nothing sacred?

Dylan

I'm watching No Direction Home on PBS. That, and copious amounts of beer, are the perfect antidote to the day that falls behind. And frankly? It's my absolute most favorite day of the year.

I'm grooving that my extra hour today is spent with Dylan; while I think about the roots of rock and roll, and protest rock, and civil rights, and how it took so, so many voices to shape, and ultimately change, the landscape of America.

Each and every one of us truly makes a difference.

How effing cool is that?