Red, White and Spoon

Dear Friends,

Election Day is coming, folks. The signs are everywhere. Literally, everywhere. Awareness of the campaign forerunners and their political standing is poked haphazardly into my over-full brain like the lopsided, hand-painted signs that are gouged into the turf of countless American yards this October. Be informed, they all seem to shout. Pick me, Pick me! 

That's what it's all about, isn't it? The freedom to make choices. Being informed. So let me inform you of a little something. I am as patriotic as the next guy. Maybe more so. My dad taught me the importance of voting and my Father taught me the importance of praying about the elections. I take the whole thing very seriously. I don't mean to make light of this time-honored system of letting our voices be heard.

But seriously, people! All this ringing the doorbell during the day business has gotta stop. I know you want to get the word out about your candidate but this is really starting to get me riled up. You are confused. Why all the drama? Let me explain, every time that doorbell chimes my heart jumps and I think it is the Schwans man, here to bring me my bi-weekly supply of frozen goodness. I don't know how much more of these false alarms and constant disappointments I can take.  I'm not going to make it to the second of November at this rate. And I know how much you want my vote.

There you are, on my doorstep. Your crisp, matching shirts, screen-printed with the name of the person you are supporting. You shake my hand heartily. You launch into a speech about ideals and expectations. My eyes glaze over and un-related thoughts start sliding over the top of my attentiveness like caramel syrup. Slow, sweet and golden. Far, far away from talk of tax levies and school funding.

More fulfilled? Government?

Give me Cream-filled. Java-mint.

Health-care and smarter voting?

I'll take Heath-bars and Sugar Coating.

And when you ask me if I would fill-out this card if I would like more information and I respond stupidly, "What? Where's the spoon-- I mean, pen?"  I'm not trying to be rude or funny. I'm not blowing you off and I'm [pretty much] not a crazy person. I'm just a desperate American mother of two small children and a nursing baby, who is hard-up for calories, the solitude of my own bowl, a clean spoon and a blessed sleepy-chasing sugar rush. And if I were to be honest with you, there's a few things I take more seriously than my political views. One of them is ice cream.