There’s A Party in My Precinct
I’m in the middle of an epic week. This is the third of a series of extra long days. I’m starting to get a wee bit raggedy around the edges.

I don’t like to talk about politics here, but I will mention that this Saturday both parties are having their precinct caucuses. I participated for the first time 4 years ago and was completely enraptured with the political process: all these people who got up early on a Saturday morning and went to the meeting spot – we had such a big turnout they had to move us to a larger room and it was still really crowded. Some people brought their kids and we stood around with our neighbors talking about candidates. Wow, here we are, regular people and we’re gathering in a safe and sane environment to choose our leader. Isn’t America great?

Shortly after this amazing opportunity to participate in the process, I realized that it was like putting our name and phone number on a billboard. During election season we get endless phone calls. And we have different last names so times it by two.

And these aren’t just the recorded calls that you can hang up on and not feel bad. Actual people call us and then want us to donate money, put a sign in our yard, pass around fliers and join them in calling people at home who were stupid enough to put their name and phone number on a piece of paper at a precinct caucus.

It made me mad so now I don’t want to do it again. I don’t even know what the point is because we have a ballot primary as well. Nice to know at least our state has money to burn.

Bob says he’s going and every half hour I remind him: Don’t give them our phone number.

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