The first polls have closed, the second tier is due to close momentarily, and the waiting is excruciating. I’m headed to some friends’ house to share the suspense. I know which way it should go, but I know the depth of the opposition’s desire to win at any cost. Voting problems now in Pennsylvania and Florida — and some voting machines in Ohio have failed. Were they the ones owned by the Romneys? We dont know, and we may not know soon.
A friend in Sweden tells me some of her American friends have vowed an exodus by canoe to her country if Romney wins. I told her that tomorrow I expected to either be rejoicing or shopping for a canoe. She promised the Swedish Coast Guard was very friendly and would welcome us. Talk about cold comfort. If you’re watching the results, don’t do it alone. If our guy wins, you’ll want someone to celebrate with. If not, well, you might want to take along a six pack. All will be well. All will be well. Repeat. Repeat.
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Sat with Lucille tonight to watch the returns—we could not be further apart politically, but Mothers and Daughters find ways to edge up to the demarcation line—and then back away—just enough.
Out here on the left coast, when the 9’ers and the Giants play ball, I’m banished from the family room as I’m considered a jinx on the outcome of the televised game(s). I spend the hours in my little office on the computer, listening to the yells and moans from the family room and awaiting my release from exile. And it seems to work . . . at times. Tonight I am self- exiled, praying the superstition will sway the results to the left. I’m here ‘till the polls are well and truly closed, and will creep out, hoping not to jar the fates into consciousness and jinx the outcome. All will be well all will be well all will be well . . .
And so it was…