Yesterday after work, Paul and I left our house and walked the five blocks to our neighborhood junior high to vote in the Washington primary election. We could’ve signed up a while back to vote by mail — our county is one of only two in the state that still has polling places — but I’m a little old-fashioned, and like the ritual of going somewhere other than my kitchen table on election day to cast my vote. It’s not quite so thrilling going to the polls now that most of our neighbors vote by mail, but yesterday’s election had a unique thrill: my name was on the ballot. Oh, only in our precinct, but still.
And if you had any questions about my party affiliation (really, was there any question?), that ballot answers them.
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If your responsibilities include making blueberry chutney (just cooked up a batch last night!), you’ve got my vote.
How cool! Perhaps you should have used your preserve making skills in the campaign.
I wish I could vote for you. Have you been making blueberry preserves too? I’m looking around, and can’t find them here?
Kimberly –
I’m with you. There’s just something about the physical elements of people going to the polls that seems important to me. Without it voting just feels too much like American Idol…
Here in VA we still vote largely in person – although the gov’t has become more and more flexible about early / absentee voting (which seems perfectly appropriate).
Eric