I have election jitters. I’m terrible when it comes to uncertainty.

The first issue of The Shit Creek Review has been tainted (heh) with plagiarism.

Last time I talked about plagiarism, I didn’t mention Hugh McMillan by name. This time, I’m saying it.

Hugh McMillan, you are a lying, cheating slime. I hope every one of your previous defenders turns on you for the plagiarizing jerk you are.

We have early voting in Ohio, so Steve and I toddled down to vote (slightly) early this morning. Recent polls show that our votes are pretty much in line with the trend, but we did our part.

We didn’t, however, get a sticker. I’m going to sue.

I’ve never been for the death penalty, and I can’t really change horses mid-stream when it comes to Saddam Hussein. Sure, I can agree that he doesn’t deserve to be alive, but then I start thinking about my own life and I think that I may not be much of a killer, but I haven’t done much to earn life either.

What’s the old curse: May you get what you deserve?

May I not, please. May I not.

A scene in my NaNo involved shopping for a turkey so, in the interests of realism, I went shopping for a turkey, too.

It’s roasting at the moment, and then there will be a turkeyfest. Come-a-longa my house around 3.

I’m the portable fixer-upper, I am.

Today’s project? Making storm windows. Bob Vila would run away screaming from my methods, but ooh, the front hall is the toasty with the mosty now.

My NaNo is a nogo for today. I’m stumped already. That’s a bad sign.

I got involved in a humorous conversation about the foods we ate growing up earlier today, and a number of people talked about eating white bread exclusively as a child.

My mother, though, was opposed to white bread. She called it tasteless “New Guinea clay.” In retrospect, I don’t even know what that means.

It’s so strange to think that I’ve heard that phrase my whole life and have never known its meaning.

I’m such a rewriter that I can’t figure if it would be fun to post any NaNo excerpts. I’ve already revised the first section three times, and I’m not likely to stop. I’m always tinkering when I hit a lull.

To excerpt or not to excerpt. That is the question.

My parents were Catholic, but not insane about it. Conservative, but not virulently so.

My brother, on the other hand, just said that he thinks global warming is a liberal conspiracy and that he’s voting for Ken Blackwell because Ted Strickland is a bad man and it doesn’t matter that Blackwell champions no separation of church and state because he’s a republican.

Some day, my brother will realize that the fundies want the Catholics out of the country, too.

I got thank yous from two poets this morning for my reading of their work for Didi Menendez’s great projects. This just makes me happy as a very happy thing.

I think about working more with sound, and I wish more poets would consider doing recordings of their work. It’s fun! No, really!