"i was at my polling place for 10 seconds before i heard the word 'davenport'," chuck says to me on the phone.
'davenport' is one of the words we like to predict will, after about 27 more deaths, become extinct. in fact, i haven't heard the word 'davenport' used without irony and in context in the seven years since my grandma smittley has died. she was big on the davenport.
she liked to curl up on the davenport on new year's eve with a highball, but beforehand she would let me fish vodka-soaked olives from the bottem of her glass. fridgedaire is another. grandma pista is trying to fit that one into a scrabble board in florida as we speak. fridgedaire is not a word. it was a brand. a gigantic white cold structure in your basement, where you store pies and extra meat. 'fridgedaire' goes to the grave with grandma pista.
election day, as you know, is my fifth favorite holiday. i am absolutely enamored with the voting process. here's mine: i take one big ticket item and i decide who i want. for the rest of the ballot i vote for who i think will win. in this way, election day is a lot like going to the horse races. i clutch my personal choices, eyes on the tv as we round the home stret.
i vote at a tiny community center less than a block from my house. it smells like my elementary school. the voting officials are a geriatric bunch of very cute rule abiders. there are three people voting at 3 p.m., but first i have to very officially check in and prove that while i may not ever sleep at my apartment i do recieve my new yorker there and so this is where i vote, womanhandle a reciept that says i am who i am and hand it to a man who saw me do the whole process and is sitting 15 inches away. he coughs. takes a pill. looks at the sheet, examines it, acts like he didn't see the whole transaction. frowns accordingly. sucks on his oxygen tank. says "davenport." approves me, i vote.
i feel like there used to be free coffee for voters. what happened to that?
one year i got really hopped up on the elections. i even voted for school board, knowing that i didn't even have the inkling of a seed considering sproutation in my womb. and if i ever did bear a fetal nicotene syndrome infant, these people would be long gone.
i did this all in a very tarot way. i voted for people who generated good vibes during the debates -- which i attended for probably the same reason i consider knitting these days: new hobby? okay. what else is there to do?
this year i only voted for mayor. i didn't even read beyond that oval circle. apparently there was a typo on the ballot. good riddance.
ness. of course. for a ton of reasons. but these are my favorite:
about a year and a half ago, i was going to turn into the ghetto spur and donnie ness was in the other lane going the other direction. both of our windows were open and we were waiting. we looked at each other, aquaintances and all.
"i'be been enjoying your blog lately," he said, through his window.
"really?" i squealed like it was actually donnie wahlberg sweating on my pubescent chest.
"my blog will endorse you!" i said.
two years ago at homegrown donnie was eating what i thought was a taco. it was well after last call at pizza luce.
"can i have a bite?" i asked him.
he handed it to me.
it was pizza.
that was weird. biting into something i thought was a taco and having it be a piece of pizza.
but the gesture was vote-worthy in itself.
i had a superficial reason to vote for charlie bell, too. i used it the last time he was up for mayor and i actually did vote for him that time. this was insignificant in the face of my blog and that bite of pizza.
say my parents come to town. we're eating brunch at luce. say the mayor walks in, sees me and stops at our table and says "hi" before getting a very posh window seat reserved for elected officials who are all doogie houserish.
"well ... he's cute. who was that?" my mom asks, slicing into pesto eggs benedict.
"the mayor," i say. "that was the mayor."
more than 30 percent of me voted for that.
so put that in your fridgedaire and smoke it.