2nd: looking toward tomorrow
Sunday, October 31, 2004
Sweet news: I, like so many others, are looking for sweet stuff to hit the news channels tomorrow.
Wisconsin is nicely turning out to be leaning in a terrifically sweet direction. And that’s the kind of delicious place this is. Here’s yet another example of it: yesterday, friends invited me to sample their 24 year old bottle of red Bordeaux. [They were uncorking a 1970 vintage that they’d been saving for a long, long time; to clarify --I love the fact that others can be so patient, even if the only really old bottle of wine that I myself have managed to preserve is a $5 version of some dessert atrocity that, for one reason or another, I forgot to throw away.] Cool. Yes, of course…..oh! but it’s Halloween, how can I abandon the 300 children that come through this block? I bargained for a slight delay so that I could at least take care of the littlest devils that ring the doorbell. It’s an awfully long path for small feet to climb. But at 7 pm I finally closed the door, leaving a monsterously big sign outside with this message:
Happy Halloween!
Take ONE piece!
[I’m watching! If you take
More than your share,
The GOBLINS WILL
HAUNT YOU TONIGHT!]
Boo!
I left a big container of assorted candy bars and left. Family and friends scoffed. The first batch of kids will empty things out. Don’t even bother. Etc.
Oh, the cynics of this world, how wrong you can be! I came home after 10 p.m. and there were 6 candy bars left. (Over a hundred had been removed – which is about the number of kids that I would expect to come after 7.) Sweet.
Is it more of a challenge to find the sweet side of New York, especially around such intersections as 2nd and 2nd or 1st and 1st? The neighborhood begins to look more worn and tattered. If Giuliani (of “it’s the troops’ fault!” fame) cleaned up the streets of NY, he forgot about these blocks.
But it’s never too hard in New York to stumble upon treats such as these:
Wisconsin is nicely turning out to be leaning in a terrifically sweet direction. And that’s the kind of delicious place this is. Here’s yet another example of it: yesterday, friends invited me to sample their 24 year old bottle of red Bordeaux. [They were uncorking a 1970 vintage that they’d been saving for a long, long time; to clarify --I love the fact that others can be so patient, even if the only really old bottle of wine that I myself have managed to preserve is a $5 version of some dessert atrocity that, for one reason or another, I forgot to throw away.] Cool. Yes, of course…..oh! but it’s Halloween, how can I abandon the 300 children that come through this block? I bargained for a slight delay so that I could at least take care of the littlest devils that ring the doorbell. It’s an awfully long path for small feet to climb. But at 7 pm I finally closed the door, leaving a monsterously big sign outside with this message:
Happy Halloween!
Take ONE piece!
[I’m watching! If you take
More than your share,
The GOBLINS WILL
HAUNT YOU TONIGHT!]
Boo!
I left a big container of assorted candy bars and left. Family and friends scoffed. The first batch of kids will empty things out. Don’t even bother. Etc.
Oh, the cynics of this world, how wrong you can be! I came home after 10 p.m. and there were 6 candy bars left. (Over a hundred had been removed – which is about the number of kids that I would expect to come after 7.) Sweet.
Is it more of a challenge to find the sweet side of New York, especially around such intersections as 2nd and 2nd or 1st and 1st? The neighborhood begins to look more worn and tattered. If Giuliani (of “it’s the troops’ fault!” fame) cleaned up the streets of NY, he forgot about these blocks.
But it’s never too hard in New York to stumble upon treats such as these:
Sweet news: I, like so many others, are looking for sweet stuff to hit the news channels tomorrow.
Wisconsin is nicely turning out to be leaning in a terrifically sweet direction. And that’s the kind of delicious place this is. Here’s yet another example of it: yesterday, friends invited me to sample their 24 year old bottle of red Bordeaux. [They were uncorking a 1970 vintage that they’d been saving for a long, long time; to clarify --I love the fact that others can be so patient, even if the only really old bottle of wine that I myself have managed to preserve is a $5 version of some dessert atrocity that, for one reason or another, I forgot to throw away.] Cool. Yes, of course…..oh! but it’s Halloween, how can I abandon the 300 children that come through this block? I bargained for a slight delay so that I could at least take care of the littlest devils that ring the doorbell. It’s an awfully long path for small feet to climb. But at 7 pm I finally closed the door, leaving a monsterously big sign outside with this message:
Happy Halloween!
Take ONE piece!
[I’m watching! If you take
More than your share,
The GOBLINS WILL
HAUNT YOU TONIGHT!]
Boo!
I left a big container of assorted candy bars and left. Family and friends scoffed. The first batch of kids will empty things out. Don’t even bother. Etc.
Oh, the cynics of this world, how wrong you can be! I came home after 10 p.m. and there were 6 candy bars left. (Over a hundred had been removed – which is about the number of kids that I would expect to come after 7.) Sweet.
Is it more of a challenge to find the sweet side of New York, especially around such intersections as 2nd and 2nd or 1st and 1st? The neighborhood begins to look more worn and tattered. If Giuliani (of “it’s the troops’ fault!” fame) cleaned up the streets of NY, he forgot about these blocks.
But it’s never too hard in New York to stumble upon treats such as these:
Wisconsin is nicely turning out to be leaning in a terrifically sweet direction. And that’s the kind of delicious place this is. Here’s yet another example of it: yesterday, friends invited me to sample their 24 year old bottle of red Bordeaux. [They were uncorking a 1970 vintage that they’d been saving for a long, long time; to clarify --I love the fact that others can be so patient, even if the only really old bottle of wine that I myself have managed to preserve is a $5 version of some dessert atrocity that, for one reason or another, I forgot to throw away.] Cool. Yes, of course…..oh! but it’s Halloween, how can I abandon the 300 children that come through this block? I bargained for a slight delay so that I could at least take care of the littlest devils that ring the doorbell. It’s an awfully long path for small feet to climb. But at 7 pm I finally closed the door, leaving a monsterously big sign outside with this message:
Happy Halloween!
Take ONE piece!
[I’m watching! If you take
More than your share,
The GOBLINS WILL
HAUNT YOU TONIGHT!]
Boo!
I left a big container of assorted candy bars and left. Family and friends scoffed. The first batch of kids will empty things out. Don’t even bother. Etc.
Oh, the cynics of this world, how wrong you can be! I came home after 10 p.m. and there were 6 candy bars left. (Over a hundred had been removed – which is about the number of kids that I would expect to come after 7.) Sweet.
Is it more of a challenge to find the sweet side of New York, especially around such intersections as 2nd and 2nd or 1st and 1st? The neighborhood begins to look more worn and tattered. If Giuliani (of “it’s the troops’ fault!” fame) cleaned up the streets of NY, he forgot about these blocks.
But it’s never too hard in New York to stumble upon treats such as these:
Or this:
A beautiful (detailed and compelling) endorsement of Kerry in the New Yorker (here), including this paragraph:
The damage visited upon America, and upon America’s standing in the world, by the Bush Administration’s reckless mishandling of the public trust will not easily be undone. And for many voters the desire to see the damage arrested is reason enough to vote for John Kerry. But the challenger has more to offer than the fact that he is not George W. Bush. In every crucial area of concern to Americans (the economy, health care, the environment, Social Security, the judiciary, national security, foreign policy, the war in Iraq, the fight against terrorism), Kerry offers a clear, corrective alternative to Bush’s curious blend of smugness, radicalism, and demagoguery.
Yes. So, tomorrow, Bush's political career is shot down and he becomes a lame duck, right?
(*see “forty-second street pre-election diary” post, September 22, for explanation of post title)
A beautiful (detailed and compelling) endorsement of Kerry in the New Yorker (here), including this paragraph:
The damage visited upon America, and upon America’s standing in the world, by the Bush Administration’s reckless mishandling of the public trust will not easily be undone. And for many voters the desire to see the damage arrested is reason enough to vote for John Kerry. But the challenger has more to offer than the fact that he is not George W. Bush. In every crucial area of concern to Americans (the economy, health care, the environment, Social Security, the judiciary, national security, foreign policy, the war in Iraq, the fight against terrorism), Kerry offers a clear, corrective alternative to Bush’s curious blend of smugness, radicalism, and demagoguery.
Yes. So, tomorrow, Bush's political career is shot down and he becomes a lame duck, right?
(*see “forty-second street pre-election diary” post, September 22, for explanation of post title)
Or this:
A beautiful (detailed and compelling) endorsement of Kerry in the New Yorker (here), including this paragraph:
The damage visited upon America, and upon America’s standing in the world, by the Bush Administration’s reckless mishandling of the public trust will not easily be undone. And for many voters the desire to see the damage arrested is reason enough to vote for John Kerry. But the challenger has more to offer than the fact that he is not George W. Bush. In every crucial area of concern to Americans (the economy, health care, the environment, Social Security, the judiciary, national security, foreign policy, the war in Iraq, the fight against terrorism), Kerry offers a clear, corrective alternative to Bush’s curious blend of smugness, radicalism, and demagoguery.
Yes. So, tomorrow, Bush's political career is shot down and he becomes a lame duck, right?
(*see “forty-second street pre-election diary” post, September 22, for explanation of post title)
A beautiful (detailed and compelling) endorsement of Kerry in the New Yorker (here), including this paragraph:
The damage visited upon America, and upon America’s standing in the world, by the Bush Administration’s reckless mishandling of the public trust will not easily be undone. And for many voters the desire to see the damage arrested is reason enough to vote for John Kerry. But the challenger has more to offer than the fact that he is not George W. Bush. In every crucial area of concern to Americans (the economy, health care, the environment, Social Security, the judiciary, national security, foreign policy, the war in Iraq, the fight against terrorism), Kerry offers a clear, corrective alternative to Bush’s curious blend of smugness, radicalism, and demagoguery.
Yes. So, tomorrow, Bush's political career is shot down and he becomes a lame duck, right?
(*see “forty-second street pre-election diary” post, September 22, for explanation of post title)
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.
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.
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
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
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
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
Saturday, October 30, 2004
Blogger dinner
It's late and so I wont say much, just this: I had a really tough day and it would have been a hell of a lot tougher had it not been for the warm and forgiving company of the following bloggers (see photo below).
Thanks. [Yes, they are all wearing Women for Kerry stickers. I made them do it. But they swore that they were voting as if their life depended on it for Kerry anyway.]
Blogger dinner
It's late and so I wont say much, just this: I had a really tough day and it would have been a hell of a lot tougher had it not been for the warm and forgiving company of the following bloggers (see photo below).
Thanks. [Yes, they are all wearing Women for Kerry stickers. I made them do it. But they swore that they were voting as if their life depended on it for Kerry anyway.]
Which way does the wind blow?
This was the next-to-last Market on the Square this year, but already you could see signs of closure for the season: a number of farmers don’t show up when the weather gets this cold and the wind kicks up to a gale force. And the crowds diminish as well. Who wants to be out and about on a day when the weather cannot make up its mind, alternating between drizzle and sunshine? Another one of those Wisconsin undecided moments, swinging between dark clouds and blue – bright blue – skies.
Seasonal touches:
Seasonal touches:
Which way does the wind blow?
This was the next-to-last Market on the Square this year, but already you could see signs of closure for the season: a number of farmers don’t show up when the weather gets this cold and the wind kicks up to a gale force. And the crowds diminish as well. Who wants to be out and about on a day when the weather cannot make up its mind, alternating between drizzle and sunshine? Another one of those Wisconsin undecided moments, swinging between dark clouds and blue – bright blue – skies.
Seasonal touches:
Seasonal touches:
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