Vox Populi

I hate talking about politics. Even talking politics to people with whom I think I might agree makes me edgy and nervous. And good luck to anyone who wants to wax poetic about things they don't know what they're talking about. I'll pull the eject cord on the conversation faster than they can say "and what they don't want you to know is ..." I think the reason I hate talking about politics is I hate arguing, and most political conversations I've ever experienced seem an awful lot like arguing. Both parties feel passionate about point A and it doesn't really matter if point A is abortion or Iraq or which knives are supposed to go in the dishwasher. I work hard to avoid arguments with people, if nothing else because I'm still upset about it long after the argument is supposedly over and that's generally bad for my health. There is a ridiculously short list of people who I can argue with, primarily the Puddin', and that's mostly because he and I have had many years to learn how to argue well (not that we argue often ... I suppose that's a side effect of arguing well is that it's effective and prevents follow up episodes).

The Virginia ballot this year made me particularly cagey. Everywhere in town, there were signs in front yards saying "Vote Yes to Marriage - One Man, One Woman" in huge black letters. Every single sign upset me. It upset me to the point that I wasn't sure what I would say to the person who walked out of their house if they had one of those signs in their yard, but I knew I would feel compelled to say something.

Long ago, I talked about a book called Gay Marriage that I had read. One of the key points Rauch makes at the end of his book is that making any changes about marriage law is something that has to happen on a state level in order to endure. So to see a ballot issue in my local (conservative) state is a very strange sort of good sign, at least in that it's better to be a Virginia voting issue than a national one at the moment. Then again, voting on anything if the voters don't understand the issue may as well be a ballot for adding sumptuary laws to the Constitution.

We were at an event this weekend and two of my friends started discussing politics. I could feel my stomach turn so I got up and fled. Part of me felt like I was a coward for leaving, because I don't think their ideas were well thought out. But that wasn't the time or the place to talk about it, and I could pretty much guarantee I would start crying in frustration within two sentences.

When I went to vote this afternoon, I walked with a purpose. I didn't want to talk to anyone there about the issues. I didn't want a piece of paper to help me vote any party line. I just wanted to place my vote (which felt more like making a wish over a dandilion given the conservativeness of my state) and go home. An old man asked me as I was leaving, "Are you interested in lower taxes, ma'am?" and I cheerfully replied, "not really, but thanks!" as my high heel shoes clicked across the pavement.

As I walked back to my car, there was a couple walking near me talking about the ballots on which they had just voted. The man sounded like Larry the Cable Guy and was slowly reading off the details of Virginia's proposed amendment #1 concerning marriage.

Larry the Cable Guy Man: " ... not between a brother and a sister ..."

Woman: "I know, I read it already."

LtCG: "... or a couple where one of the parties is married to someone else ..."

Woman (exasperated): "I know! I told you I already read it all last night. It means none of those people could get married. Why do you keep reading ..."

LtCG: " ... couples of the same sex ..."

Woman: "Why can't you just let me do it my way and you do it yours? I already read it all last night and I made a decision and I voted. I can't go back in there and re-vote."

LtCG: "I'm just making sure I understand what I voted for and what you voted for."

At this point the woman just sighed and they kept walking to their car. What struck me more than their conversation was that the entire time they were holding hands. I'd watched them walk into the ballots holding hands and then they were right in front of me still holding hands. Somehow, the fact that they were holding hands made it all seem okay. They obviously didn't agree on what they voted on, but they were still a team. Perhaps I need a new rule that if I plan on talking politics with anyone, particularly emotionally charged ones like marriage amendments, I should insist that they hold my hand. So that even if we don't agree, I can feel like somehow we're on the same team.

area woman embarrassed by fellow Communications majors on television

When I rearranged my RSS feeds into various folders, I should have probably put the Onion entries in something other than the "News" folder. It's far too easy to confuse CNN's duct tape no magic cure for warts, study finds with the Onion's DNA evidence frees man after 15 years of marriage article. I'm in a hotel room tonight, watching the Weather Channel tonight because it's the only thing on TV that doesn't make me angry at America. If democracy doesn't exhaust me, the Lifetime channel may do me in completely. Football ... football may be the only thing that saves me.

If I Had a Hammer ....

Remember that list from Friday? The list that had three things on it, one of which was a mallet? Turns out we don't own a mallet (or if we do, it's disappeared). And really there's no substitute for a 3 lb. sledge when trying to drive tent stakes. We made do with the hammer we had, but I felt more like a woodpecker than John Henry. This morning, I sent an email to my parents with various updates. My parents and I talk regularly, but sometimes it's easier to capsulize it all in an email rather than get on the phone. I can't wait until they one day have the ability to get text messages. So anyways, I ask Daddy if he has any extra sledges lying around. Recently when I've gone to the store and bought something (power inverter, fancy extension cord, etc.) I find out that Daddy had already bought a dozen of them on sale six months ago waiting for someone in our family to need them. So I wanted to avoid buying a superfluous sledge if we already had tons of them or if Daddy knew of some secret sledge sale that I didn't.

Dad called a little after noon asking if we had left for our outings yet. He was concerned that I needed a sledge today and he was on the case collecting various ones that may or may not be appropriate. I explained that I only needed a sledge in the grand scheme of things for the next time we decide to setup our pavilion and that wouldn't be happening for at least a week if not longer.

So when I went by this evening to drop off some extra food from the weekend, Daddy came in with a 10 gallon bucket full of sledges singing "If I Had a Hammer" and grinning. He had collected a variety of sledges of different weights with different lengths of handle and different shaped heads. I picked out one that I liked and now just have to spray paint it hot pink to keep it from wandering off at the next event we go to. It's really quite handsome and I'm super pleased with it. And you can't beat the price or that it was hand-picked with love. They don't sell hammers like that at Home Depot.