Passing For Normal

I never feel more patriotic than when I go to my local polling place and cast my vote.

There are just over a thousand people in our wee hamlet; we're pretty much just a crossroads with an independent market/gas station and a post office. We have one (1) polling place, and it's the volunteer fire station. Our retired postmistress is always the chief of the poll workers, and if she's met you twice (or maybe even once), from then on she'll remember you and greet you by name. It's almost a sure thing you'll see someone you know when you go to vote; for me, today, it was my BFF's neighbor, and we chatted for a bit afterward. There was no line, no waiting.

I keep telling myself to sign up for permanent mail-in voting, but I can't quite bring myself to do it. I just love going there and voting with others.

Though next year I want to do it wearing a blue shirt with a yellow dog on it. No text. Just a simple blue t-shirt with a simple graphic silhouette of a yellow lab or maybe a golden retriever. It's a quiet way to represent.

( Very brief medical update )