I voted, 2020

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Dateline, Portland, Oregon, the ballot drop at the Midland Library. Less than a day after I received it, and more than two weeks out from Election Day, I have already cast my vote in what could possibly be the most consequential election of my adult lifetime.

The primary election was a little nerving. Happening in the thick of Covid time, as it was then, it took more time than I anticipated to register acceptance of my vote. Not taking that chance this time. I believe in Multnomah County Elections, I know they're solid there, but my additional accesses of anxiety mean that I'm going to let as few things go to chance as I can control.

So, therefore, this:

So there I was and there was I, at the ballot drop box in front of the Midland Library on 122nd, doing my civic and national duty.

If I'd had to wait any longer to get my ballot, I'd of gone down to 11th and Belmont and carve my damned vote into the side of building. 

I was, in fact, that eager.

Dept Of "I Know That You Think You Understood What I Said, But I Don't Think You Get That What I Said Wasn't What I Meant" Dept.

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I understand that it's October and all and that JoAnn's is pitching toward the Halloween crafting crowd, I mean, I get it. 

But, somehow, the text on that sign just isn't communicating to me what I think they think they hoped it would. 

Yes, I suppose they didn't mean that sort of creep, but where's the fun in following that line of logic?

A Glimpse Of Washington From NE Portland

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John Luby Park is a lovely place to have a lunch. A brilliant bit of thick forest, an island in the relentless post-WWII subdivision spreading eastward from I-205 out to the Gresham city line. That day we were there, it was sunny and light but not too uncomfortable; once under the canopy it was dusky and at least 10 degrees cooler than the sunlit areas.

Portland's terrain offers these treats. From this spot, on NE Brazee St between 127th and 130th Avenues, we look northeast through this gap in the trees over the houses just to the east of Russell Elementary School, and see the bluffs just on the outskirts of Camas, between five and six miles away.

Dicing With The Year 2020

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It may seem dark to look for what will become a souvenir on this time (especially since isn't next to impossible to know if it's crested yet; let's just say that's the way my optimism rolls) but when you find something that hits your vibe, you hit it, if you can. And we did.

Storm Crow, a company that runs a couple of geek pubs in Canada (Vancouver and Toronto, if you are favorably positioned) also sells geek gear worldwide. And what better a token of the chaos that has been 2020 would be ...

 ... a twenty-sided die. With 2020 things on every face.

Yeah, that is, in fact, Elon Musk and Grimes's kid's daft name on one face. COVID-19 is on another. And there are a couple of white triangle stickers so you can do some modding as appropriate if you wish; I'm totally considering re-labeling Wildfire Smoke or Beachie Creek Fire or Cascade Wildfires or something properly interpretatively expressive.

It's about the size of a ping-pong ball and is made of that hard, dense stuff they make dice and bowling balls and conservative Republican minds out of, so if civilization does fall, carry this with you, chum, and you can at least get one good shot off before the zombies overwhelm you, because it's that last act of defiance that counts as you descend into apocalyptic oblivion, isn't it?

It's available from Storm Crow for the appropriate price of USD$ 20.20, and their customer service and response is, in the classical style, superb. One catch, though: it was so popular that they ran out of their original production run in two weeks' time and are waiting on a new batch to send out. But they'll let you pre-order. 

It's a fun thing.

Here's the link: https://shop.stormcrow.com/products/the-storm-crow-d2020