I don’t really want to get all political in my blog. And you have to admit that I have done a good job of avoiding the topic, despite the fact that Trump was the gift that kept on giving… even though it’s the gift you hate and don’t even want to touch but you have to return it and they won’t let you cause you don’t have a gift receipt… and they insist you can only get store credit, but you hate the store and wouldn’t ever shop there, and you just want to get out of there and they won’t let you leave and then you realize that there is a huge wall covering the exit all of a sudden… and as you panic and start to sweat you wake up and realize it was all a bad dream. Except then you look at your phone and see the date is November 8th and the nightmare is all too real.
If Trump wins in New Jersey by one vote, and I mean one regular vote, not an electoral college vote cause I’m pretty sure, but not positive, that the regular votes count towards the electoral college votes, it will be Charlie’s fault. He turned 18 this year and even though his voter registration card arrived in the mail here months ago, and I reminded him SEVERAL TIMES to apply for an absentee ballot at college, he texted me last night to say he hadn’t. “The stupid-ass website kept on screwing up,” he explained. “Maybe I should just register as a New York resident instead.” I told him that was an awesome idea, and as soon as he could find one of the utility bills for his dorm room, retake the driver’s written and road tests at the NYDMV, he could go ahead and do that. But since the DMV was already closed for the night, his car parked several hundred miles away, and his utilities are included in his bargain-basement-priced tuition, that probably wasn’t gonna work. “Can you vote for me somehow?” he reasoned, which considering all the other things I used to do for him, kinda sorta made sense, and for that I am deeply sorry. “OH, you mean ’cause like your voter registration card is here in your desk? Yeah, no, that’s what they call VOTER FRAUD!” “Can you just do it anyway?” he pleaded like he was asking me to make him a peanut butter sandwich. “Well, no,” I told him as calmly as I could, “’cause when you go vote you have to show ID ’cause it’s like VERY IMPORTANT!”
Fast forward to this morning when I headed over to my new polling place, feeling very proud for women, trying to shed a tear, and wishing I lived closer to the Susan B. Anthony gravesite so I could take a selfie with her…tombstone. I was shocked when the polling people told me I wasn’t in the book. WTF?? I had made sure to go online and change my address and made it all nice for Mav and me to vote cause he was really freaking out about it for like two months. And when he came home this morning after being the first to vote at our new polling place at 6am I was so relieved not only because he came home with breakfast buns, but because he didn’t have any issues voting that he could have blamed on me. But I was mostly excited about the buns. I love a sweet roll with my coffee and let’s all admit today is a like a holiday. We are all stressed about the election and whether we are celebrating or trying real hard not to kill ourselves, cocktails are in order for all by noon, but at 7am coffee and sweet buns will suffice.
Anyway, there I was trying to help the voting person find my name in the book. “That’s my husband,” I declared, as I pointed to his signature in the holy polling book. “He voted already,” the voting person said. “Yes, he did and he brought home buns to celebrate,” I replied, when I noticed Charlie’s name in the book right above Mav’s. “That’s my son,” I said, suddenly, oddly, considering his request to vote for him, because for some reason my name wasn’t there. What to do?? I was about to make a run for it, go home and come back with Charlie’s voter ID card and wearing a latex mask, when a lovely woman led me over to a private table with a paper ballot. “But will my vote be counted?” I cried. “Of course!” she said giving me a little hug. “Ok,” I said, quietly, trying to contain a sob.
I wouldn’t leave without my “I Voted” sticker, but once outside I felt proud and hopeful. The sun was shining, I had just cast my vote for, possibly, the first woman President of the United States, and I felt like anything was possible. Sure, I could lose that extra five pounds I carry around, and why not get a job, I have the time! And hey, I should play more tennis, and why not buy those designer shoes I had been eyeing up? Suddenly I was thirsty and texted Mav to come straight home from work I was mixing up a pitcher of Election Day Cocktails.
By 5:30pm we were sufficiently buzzed and equally full of hope, belting out the soundtrack of “Hamilton” while I tossed a kale and Brussels sprouts salad. We would lose that weight, I would, maybe, consider thinking about getting a job, I will definitely make myself another cocktail and I hopefully pass out and not have that nightmare about trying to return that gift and when I wake up tomorrow maybe the world will be a better place. And I promise never to write about politics ever again.
#imwithher
Nicely put! #imwithher