How the day goes.

triadruid and I voted without incident this morning at our usual polling place. We were in line less than half an hour. Our polling place either serves two precincts or they split the one precinct into two halves, based on whether you live west or east of Holmes Road. The line for west, where we do not live, was impressively long, but the line for east, where we do live was pretty short. This leads me to ask, of course, "Where the hell is East of Holmes? Am I gonna have to go around the precinct and yell at people later?". So far, I have suppressed this urge.

We then wandered over to the Obama field office and were promptly put to work knocking on doors in the final get out the vote push. We covered two small territories (with a break in between to pull up illegally placed signs that the city was bitching about, and to get lunch). Most people whose doors we knocked on were reasonably happy to see us, either to announce that they had already voted first thing that morning, or that they were getting ready to head out to the polls.

A lot of people had questions. The most common thing we were asked was when the results would be known, which made me think that a lot of the people we were talking to had never voted or been involved in the process before. Other people wanted to know when the polls closed, what they had to take with them to vote, or if they could get a ride to the polls. We fielded these things reasonably competently. A few people wanted to know where they could get the t-shirts we were wearing, and we told them they'd have to volunteer with the campaign. At least one person took us up on that.

So that was all good, and now we are tired. There is pulled pork in the slow-cooker, and soon there will be pork burritos with black beans. Shortly following that, we'll be looking for some entertainment for the evening, during which we can get some of the returns, but not be fixated on the returns. Also, I'll be having a beer. I believe I have earned it.

How the day goes.

triadruid and I voted without incident this morning at our usual polling place. We were in line less than half an hour. Our polling place either serves two precincts or they split the one precinct into two halves, based on whether you live west or east of Holmes Road. The line for west, where we do not live, was impressively long, but the line for east, where we do live was pretty short. This leads me to ask, of course, "Where the hell is East of Holmes? Am I gonna have to go around the precinct and yell at people later?". So far, I have suppressed this urge.

We then wandered over to the Obama field office and were promptly put to work knocking on doors in the final get out the vote push. We covered two small territories (with a break in between to pull up illegally placed signs that the city was bitching about, and to get lunch). Most people whose doors we knocked on were reasonably happy to see us, either to announce that they had already voted first thing that morning, or that they were getting ready to head out to the polls.

A lot of people had questions. The most common thing we were asked was when the results would be known, which made me think that a lot of the people we were talking to had never voted or been involved in the process before. Other people wanted to know when the polls closed, what they had to take with them to vote, or if they could get a ride to the polls. We fielded these things reasonably competently. A few people wanted to know where they could get the t-shirts we were wearing, and we told them they'd have to volunteer with the campaign. At least one person took us up on that.

So that was all good, and now we are tired. There is pulled pork in the slow-cooker, and soon there will be pork burritos with black beans. Shortly following that, we'll be looking for some entertainment for the evening, during which we can get some of the returns, but not be fixated on the returns. Also, I'll be having a beer. I believe I have earned it.

Don't Want Politics?

Here. Have a picture of attractive people in steampunk gear.



Like a bunny with a pancake on its head, but better, in every way.

Don't Want Politics?

Here. Have a picture of attractive people in steampunk gear.



Like a bunny with a pancake on its head, but better, in every way.