Election Day

I voted this morning. For the first time in something like 20 years, I had to wait in line. Despite the imminent threat of flooding in the valley things in Carnation were wet but normal. No one at Starbucks (getting their pre-suffrage-exercise caffeine bracer) seemed excited about the rain, the election, or the fact that for the first time in perhaps three weeks the morning delivery of croissants to the Carnation, WA Starbucks franchise failed to arrive.

Well, no one but me. I am hoping that the missed breakfast croissant (I substituted a nice slice of pumpkin bread, complete with big-ass chunks of walnuts) is the worst part of the day. I suspect the flooding when the Tolt River jumps the banks right by the park and closes Tolt Hill Road will be worse. If NE 124th floods, and Greg has to drive home thru Duvall, that will definitely be worse. As far as the election goes, I’m hoping for the best and expecting the worst, just as I’ve done since I was old enough to vote.

Given all the acrimony of the past year on the political front, I was struck by how many smiles there were at the polls. I was struck by the fact that everyone, of all political stripes, was happily standing peaceably in line on the zigzag of masking tape laid down on the cheap nylon carpet to show us how to line up in a small space. In Carnation, if you live in Horseshoe precinct (I do) you vote in the portable classroom at Carnation Elementary, by filling in the ovals on the ballot with a black pen and then putting the ballot into the counting machine in the corner in the back. When you put your ballot in, the counter on the face of the machine increments by one. I put in my ballot, and the machine changed from 25 to 26. It’s sappy, I know, but I still get a thrill from voting. It’s especially nice when you can vote surrounded by the art produced by Miss Jane’s first grade class. When I lived in Provan precinct, we voted in the gym at Sunrise Elementary, and there were NO drawings of dogs, or ponies, or barns, or Mom. No drawings of anything, actually. It’s nicer with the art.

Down in Carnation, it smelled like wet street and (near Starbucks) like coffee. Here on the hill, it smells like wet woods, and in the studio it smells like wet dog. I think Kodak went wading in the stream. He brought back a big stick, which he subdued on the porch in front of the studio before barking to come in.