voting early in Chicago

first things first: http://www.chicagoelections.com/page.php?id=9

I had a conversation with my boss.  He related that a coworker mentioned that election day was sacred in her home and that she couldn't focus on anything else until it was over.  He himself mentioned at between work and appointments for his children he wouldn't have time to vote.  That troubled me and got me to thinking about previous elections.  Somehow I always made it in, one time just before 7 pm when I was greeted with a hearty "we've been waiting for you."  I saw in the paper that the President voted early in Chicago. I wondered if you had to be a special personage or have some compelling reason to qualify for the earliness, I wondered if the sites would be hard to reach.
I hunted around and found the above link.

Clicking through it seemed that if you had a government ID, you were welcome. I liked the flexibility of choosing a site near where ever you happened to be at the time as opposed to being tethered to a site near home. A library near my children's school was one of the 51 sites. I noticed the relatively high number of voters so far, but hoped that since I was going in the early afternoon before school was dismissed the lines wouldn't be long.  Now that I was thinking about doing it, I wanted to do it, and cross it off my list.

Signs posted with blue arrows pointed to the elevator. The large conference room on second floor of the (overheated) library was (strangely) subdivided into a much too small a space. Several steps to voting lining the perimeter: Two tables on the right to fill out and sign a short form, no line here when I first came in; two stations to check in with a judge and show government ID, the line was about 10 deep; voter's card or driver's license, hand in form, and get thick plastic card to insert in a hooded machine, after waiting in snaky line about 20 deep.  Crowded and hot as this was, the judges were remarking how much more  busy and chaotic things were on Saturday.  There was about a 15 or 20 minute wait to get to one of the machines.  I was surprised that elderly, frail, a blind person and helper, or people in wheel chairs were not taken to the front of the line.  I was getting dizzy and parched standing and waiting.

Once seated at the machine, I inserted the card, was instructed to use the touch screen with my finger or stylus. No stylus was provided, just a pen.  I used the "wrong end" of it to squiggle "x"s in boxes through 12 "pages" of choices.  I reviewed the pages and as it turned out some entries registered as not choices entered, so I when back and filled those in.  There was a set of too small instructions to the bottom right of the hood.  I read through twice and tried to follow but couldn't figure out how to cast my vote, I ended up reviewing again this time with reversed out white print on a black background.  Frustrated, I asked one of the judges, how to cast my vote, he asked me to review to the end, which I thought I did twice already, but finally it worked. Then I looked and read as all my choices printed on a cash register paper/toilet paper roll looking thing behind clear plastic to the right of the screen got filled in. Quite a lot of the paper got used up. Finally the card spit out and I handed it back to the judge. 

While I'm glad I got it done, I wish several things were different. The high heat and small size of the allotted room made it difficult to concentrate.  I was able to enlarge the print on screen itself, but had a hard reading the small print of the instructions at the side of the machine.  It would've been helpful and "user-friendly" to have a larger print size.  I wish there had be an express line for people who had conditions that warranted it.  I can imagine people getting frustrated and giving up before they get to the end of the process.  The follow through to casting a vote did not seem intuitive at all. I remembered the election that Al Gore ran in, the senior citizens in Florida that voted for him, but inserted the cards into the machine in the wrong way so their votes weren't counted.  Seems nutty that nearly every election has a new fangled machine and system to figure out at the spot.

There's a saying in Chicago to vote early and often, a nod to the long-standing reputation of corruption in our toddling town.  One sign was loud and clear that voting multiple times or attempting to was a felony.

 

sweet smell of motor oil

I love old heavy office supplies like heavy metal staplers, staples,  tape dispensers, wooden or metal stacking bins for organizing, and, all metal, except for its rubber feet 3-hole punch.  Real heavy duty work horses. I love the paint finishes as well, thick, metallic grays, shimmering teals, sea glass greens. Like the saying goes they don't make them like that any more.  When I find them I keep them and treasure them.

 I was using a vintage, finished with teal gray metallic paint, 3-hole punch to put holes into Wisteria's school paper's.  Vintage punch, most likely 50 years old or older. Maybe the paper was the vertebrate one about Amazon parrots or the plant about tomatoes.  I was putting them in shiny plastic binders for her presentation.  I was being lazy, I suppose, and putting through several sheets at a time along with the plastic binder sleeve  when the punch jammed.  It was no longer clamping down.

I put it under a fluorescent light so that I could see the works.  I'm not mechanically inclined but thought I could find the offending paper or plastic circles. I turned over the Mutual Centamatic Punch, No. 300, Made in Worchester, Mass U.S.A. I slipped and lifted off the long rectangular piece that held the harvested dots, shook it empty, still the center piston?/stamper? and it's attendant spring wasn't pushing downward.  I lifted it close to my face and myopic eyes peered over my eye glasses frame into the little holes, I caught a whiff of a familiar smell from long ago. Using a pointy steak knife I extracted several shiny plastic discs that had been jamming up the works.  I was so very happy that to have solved that real and vexing problem.

I brought the punch to my face again, to my nose, and took a deep inhale of motor oil.  Faint, old, nostalgic, and so familiar.  My father was a machinist in the 1960's when small manufacturers dotted our neighborhood.  The dads and some moms would walk down the block, around the corner to work.  When my father returned from work the aroma of motor oil infused his flannel shirts and dungarees.  The fragrance brought back memories of eagerly hugging him hello and brought tears to my eyes.

 

Back to the future, early tomato garden and flowers

Now as autumn rains fall, I'm looking back to the early summer days

with a mix of nostalgia and remembered exhaustion.

This photo represents some 6 or 7 hours of cutting down a huge stand of golden rod, then digging up their thickly matted roots, and getting painful, itchy dermatitis from poison oak or poison ivy. 

Good times.

 

My mom and brother put in stakes anticipating the growth to come over the hot, long summer to come. Hostas got burnt since the demise of the nectarine tree in the foreground.

 

I wish I wrote down the names of the heirloom varieties.

 

 

Phlox and trumpet vine.

 

Susan black eyes as my my mother calls them.

 

 

This nectarine bore a lot of fruit. 

Discovered by ants and squirrels alike.

 

 

Love my flamingos.

 

Love. Take good care. 

 Lemony wood sorrel underneath.

One of several edible "weeds" that are easily found in garden. 

The others were lamb quarters, garlic mustard, and purslane, not pictured.

 

"S" for so long!

 

Chinatown visit

One recent Sunday, Wisteria got an urge to visit Chinatown.  Maybe it was the taste for iced milk tea with tapioca bubbles or a desire to adorn her ears with peacock feather earrings. So off we went together with Clement.

We took the CTA a combination of bus and el.

She loved the happy fellow with the big smile holding the peach on the left. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fu_Lu_Shou

Giftland beckoned.

Pokemon posters called from beyond the terracotta glazed tiles.

Perhaps a long wooden sword?

Or sticky tapes in many colors?

 

The peacock's bill pointed the way.

If only mama would stop admiring the facade.

Tantalizing front window.

Pastel smoothies.

Fluorescent glow.

Fruit tart $1.00. I loved the one further back, way back, the egg custard in a flaky crust.

Or maybe it was in a different bakery altogether.

Many shopkeepers didn't allow pictures to be taken inside.

Sad window display.  Not long for this world.  Even sadder the tiny turtles in tiny tanks being sold as pets.

After the abundance.

The beautiful blue of twilight.

One light out.

My husband picked up the bone weary little shoppers and me.

Zip.

Onto the expressway.

We had a happy day.

Past trees and buildings with towering nightlights.

Upstream through the city homeward bound.
###

 

my happy place

Warm welcome.

Painted door and window frames, baseboards one sweltering 4th of July weekend.

 

Color copied vintage barkcloth and decoupaged with Modge Podge,

then covered with polyurethane onto kitchen cabinets.

Different print of actual barkcloht on transom window from mother's basement.

Eight doors were a labor of love by proxy.

Stripped doors (sent out) sanded (dear brother), stained and varnished (hired out).

Pink and black table and chairs from antique mall a little les that $60-- a slurge.

Worn, wooden thonet chair found in alley, regret not getting the second one.

Usually in attic, brought down for extra seating.

 

 

Universal stove came with place, big and heavy, it's not going anywhere.

On wish list: vintage farmhouse sink and old fridge that latches, or lookalike.

 

God Bless our Home picture housewarming gift from my mother.

Little wood shelf scavenged post someone's moveout from alley.

 

Family pictures after autobiographical work by Cuban American photographer Tony Mendoza,

personal inscriptions/descriptions under each color copied photograph.

Surprisingly each color copy has held up well.  No fading after almost 20 years.

Southern exposure though 2 kitchen windows.

 

Green bedroom behind aloha signed door.  Dresser with serpentine fronts came with the place. 

Painted in 3 different green tones.  Wall painted with brush for a leafy feel. 

Ceiling painted soft violet with a brush as well.

Landscape from the countryside where my mother grew up.

Green table and tuffet dumpster dived or alley found.

 

Living room painted a blue from Benjamin Moore, one of my favorite cornflower blues.

Super tall palm found in alley by my brother.  Thanks!

Gorgeous living addition to the garden theme.

 

Dear sofa, I hear you calling my name.

Thift store and garage sale paintings.

 

Round artist decorated coffee table found in alley. 

Funnily, seminaked lady at 12 o'clock looks like son's former teacher. 

Added Irving Penn photo of red poppy from a Vogue magazine and cutout of son's drawing over rudest word. Poly'ed the top.

 

 

Little table was moveout gift from sister in law.

I stained with a translucent blue stain or paint hung upside down in bathroom for flamingo display.

 

Warm goodbye as well, aloha!