**** edited to add**** and "Look HERE!"
Should I, in the thick of this worry and distress, really start posting recipes? That's not what's on my mind.
I could retreat to the land of fiction -- reading it, writing it -- certainly from the time I could first read I've used fiction as a land to hide in. But that doesn't satisfy either because, really, the election is foremost in my mind.
So I sit, stymied. I shop on the Internet for avocado honey and Murchies No.22 tea. I make phone calls and balance the checkbook, cook the dog food, check in with friends. Bill leaves in a month -- he'll be in Madagascar six months this time. We're spending tender time together. I'm holding my breath and trying to breathe at the same time. These are the dog days -- of the summer, of the election season.
"Keep your eyes on the electoral college, Lutz," I remind myself. I make my students watch the convention speeches so they can see. Then I send Obama more money. I've never been good at writing in a time of crisis -- this feels the same way.