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OKAY, I'LL ADD SOMETHING. But it won't be much.
(You can't see it, Dear Reader, but my lower lip is slightly protruding.)

Really, with today's insight it's not difficult to know why so many of my fine neighbors tried to ignore me yesterday as they crunched across the gravel of the parking lot, following the sign with the arrow saying "VOTE HERE."

I didn't know many of them, but I did know the man who came and joined me around noon at the other party's table (okay, okay, the grand old victorious party, as it now happens to be!) Don and I didn't recognize each other immediately, but when I told him where I live, he said, "Oh, your daughter used to come and swim in my pool!" Then we had plenty to converse about, and only a very little bit pertained to...you know...what was on everyone's mind yesterday. Don and I talked about the good old days when my daughter swam in his pool.

But to everyone else--as they came from the parking area and headed for the door of the polling station--he and I would say a "hello!" As they were leaving, I would tell them, "Thank you for voting!" and then Don would say, "Have a good day!"

Every once in a while, if a female voter would glance my way, I couldn't resist sharing: "Today is the ninetieth anniversary of women getting the right to vote!" Ah, wonderful! All of these women seemed pleased to hear it. I couldn't help but notice, however, the subtle shift that often occurred when I gaily added, "Thanks to a Democratic congress!"

Well, tsk, tsk, too many marched in and gave their vote to the party who would have refused them the right to do so! Alas. How ironic. And I came home after nearly nine hours of watching gorgeous leaves float down from the giant sycamore tree towering overhead--nearly nine hours of sitting in the bright sunshine and the cold. The cold!

I walked into the house and put an apron on over my cotton sweater, my insulated vest, my wool sweater and my quilted jacket (I told you I would add something more, didn't I?!) Then I made myself a plate of spaghetti with cilantro, which reminded me of the national colors of Italy. Which made me wonder if people are prone to sit for hours at Italian elections and shout, "Thanks for voting!" until they are chilled to the bone.


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