Government Efficiencies

Birthday time is also automobile registration renewal time so I went over to the tax collector's office this afternoon.

The county has separated routine tax payments from others that might require additional information/decision-making/judgment calls and so there is a typically governmental larger room with rows and rows of metal framed plastic chairs for people dealing with those issues and a small rope-lined area for "I'm just here to pay, no questions, no issues, thank you very much," folks, like me, all overseen by the number-issuing concierge.

I told the number-issuing concierge I was here to renew my vehicle's registration. He said, "That's it?" I said, "Yes," he printed out my number and told me to enter the rope line. By the time I reached the end of that (very short) path, the only person in front of me was finishing up with the cashier, who called my number. I handed her the registration notice and the cash (because Florida lets card companies tack on a service fee for using plastic) and she handed me my change and the license plate sticker.

I was in and out in under two minutes.

A few years ago, when I wanted to start an LLC back in Salt Lake City, I went on line to learn the process and required information (which was minimal). With that in hand, I went to the county offices there, paid the fees and had my business officially up and running in less than two hours.

When the government has a financial interest in getting you through the system it can be impressively efficient.

I just wish I knew how to apply that interest to running an election.

Strange Pocket Change

My brother discovered a small oval ceramic box Mom made for him many years ago. Inside it was a small pouch and inside the pouch was a small pile of foreign coins. I've just spent a couple hours sorting and identifying them.

Most are your standard pre-euro European change, the kinds of things tourists might bring home, with an emphasis on Spain and U.K.. South and Central America are also well represented with samples from Argentina, Brazil, Chile, Peru, Guatemala and Mexico. But . . . there's some kind of neat stuff here, too.

(Sri Lankan 2 cent piece)

For instance, there are two coins from Bulgaria, a 1974 20 stotniki from the People's Republic version, and a 1992 2 leva from the current incarnation. Ditto a 1980 1 koruna from Czechoslovkia and a 1993 10 haleru from the Czech Republic. Also a couple of 2 pfennig coins (1979 & 1992) from West Germany and a 1969 20 pfennig from East Germany.

(The oldest coin in the "collection")

(South African penny)

On the "who brought that home front," there are two 1 kyat pieces from Myanmar (both 1999), a 1933 5 piastres piece from Syria, a 1982 1 kopeck from the Soviet Union. also 2 cent and 50 cent pieces from Sri Lanka. And Vanuatu (1995 20 vatu). Nobody I know has ever been to Vanuatu.

The one I had virtually no clue on until I could track it down, however, was a small, 1 cent copper coin with the legend "ISEWULA AFRIKA" on the front. Turns out that's the name for South Africa in the Ndebele language.

So I learned something today.

The Holiday Observed

Thanksgiving is not a one-day event in this family. We crescendo. We float along on a rising tide of edible treats until The Day and then slowly drift back down to normality. Except for the actual Thanksgiving Day feast, there are no formal meals or set times. We've been at it for almost a week already.

I write this with a dish of pistachios, dried figs and dates by my side. Later, when the brie is warm enough, I will spread it on crackers, cut open the pomegranate, and use the pips as a garnish. There are cashews and other nuts and pears and crusty bread with butter or feta still awaiting our attention.

The turkey is here. Despite the fact there are only two of us this year we did not get merely a turkey breast since both of us like dark meat, neither did we get just drumsticks because where's the holiday in parts? So we have a thirteen pound bird because there is nothing smaller and steeled ourselves to the next month (at least) of turkey plates, sandwiches, soups and salads.

Although we tend to be frugal throughout the year (between the two of us we seldom spend more than $150 a month on groceries and, although my brother drives for a living, I can generally keep my gasoline purchases under $50) we do enjoy the holidays. So, for the record, yes, we are extremely thankful that we are able to enjoy this and recognize not everyone can. We have been given much.

And Random Acts of Retail

My brother complained, after the mail came yesterday, "I just threw out every catalog in my room!" by which he meant approximately three dozen or so recent arrivals (and didn't count the twenty or so still in the living room). He held another even dozen in his hand fresh from the mailbox.

I often wonder from whence the catalogers get our address. It's kind of a game trying to figure out whose mailing list we came from. Sometimes it seems pretty obvious: Wild Wings, purveyor of wildlife coffee mugs, nostalgic animal art and clothing, most likely came by way of the World Wildlife Fund or Birds and Blooms magazine, both of which have had our information for years. Likewise, we know where Wireless (NPR), Signals (PBS), Smithsonian and National Geographic catalogs all come from.

But what about Front Gate? Their publication (I hesitate to call it a mere catalog) is printed on heavy glossy paper bound in a clay-coat four-color-process cover stock more suited to a commercial real estate prospectus. Then again, projecting that kind of image is necessary when your offerings--one-off holiday decorations and full-size pre-decorated Christmas trees--are priced from the low three-figures to the mid (and upper) four-figures. Are these guys, maybe, second generation from the Grandin Road people of life-size Hallowe'en zombie fame?

And then there's Russell's For Men. Apparently, there's an A. G. Russell's with a more general demographic somewhere that has skipped over us in favor of leather wallets, leather vests, leather travel accessories and knives of various sizes, shapes and utility (including, one presumes, scraping hides preparatory to making leather). Neither my brother nor I, are particularly lacking in testosterone yet we can not determine the provenance of this one.

Thanks to FedEx overnight delivery, we have a long way to go before the catalogers stop sending in the realization that is too late for us to order.

Random Acts of Realty

My brother received a letter the other day. It was hand written--hand-printed, actually--block letters in red ink on a lined yellow notebook page. It read:

MY NAME IS (redacted to protect the identity of the idiot who sent it).

I WOULD LIKE TO

$ BUY $

YOUR HOUSE. PLEASE CALL ME

AT (###) ###-####.

                                                            SINCERELY,

                                                                                                    (redacted again for the same reason)

The house is not on the market. Nor is there any intention of putting the house on the market. The mortgage is not excessive and there is no danger of late payment or other default. We do not know the above redacted person.

It would seem the housing market in our area is once again on the upswing. How else to explain a random solicitation from someone who apparently has more cash on hand than professional skills.

The dollar signs were a nice touch, though.

Seasonal Stuff

Eleven catalogs came today, including three from various orchards offering holiday fruit and candy compilations, two geeky gift shops (I'll need to go through them more thoroughly later), a bunch of holiday home decor offerings, The Victorian Trading Company, and, best of all, The Noble Collection, containing props and memorabilia from fantasy films including, among other treasures: Harry's, Hermione's, Dumbledore's and Voldemort's wands; a time turner; a working cryptex from The DaVinci Code; Batman, Superman and Green Lantern tchotchkes; and from The Hobbit/Lord of the Rings, Gandalf's staff, full-size Sting and various incarnations of the One Ring, with and without Elvish inscription.

My list is complete.

On a completely different note: A coconut fell last week. Yay!! We peeled off the husk and split the shell. I've frozen the milk and it's now sitting on the kitchen counter drying out before we shred the meat. Macaroons here we come!

A Temporary Setback, Rapidly Repaired

My poor, brave niece went into the hospital today, again, this time because the two halves of her recently repaired heart were beating at different speeds. According to her mom, her atrium was beating 35 times faster than her ventricle. I don't understand how that's even possible.

Her mom rushed her to Yale-New Haven Hospital in New Haven where, after a short delay waiting for an operating room to become available, the doctors checked for clots and then shocked her heart back into regularity.

As of 2:00 p.m., her mom reports she is in the pediatric intensive care unit, awake and sipping juice. There were no clots. Her heart rate is a little high but not excessive or irregular.

For some reason, she claims to be sick and tired of hospitals and just wants to go back to school. She's a tough kid.

Aftermath

Turns out I was a bit premature in my optimism regarding the shortening voting lines at the library yesterday.

At 4:45 p.m. the line was back and even longer stretching out into and through the main library parking lot. It was at least three times longer than the one I'd seen going in. I spoke with a young woman who was heading back to her car after voting and she said she'd been waiting for over two hours and her line had been much shorter when she had begun her trek. We agreed the current wait must be over four hours (and the polls "close" in just over three). "Close," of course, means no one else can get in line. If you're already there--and stay there--you're good to go.

The six o'clock news had numerous reports of extra-long lines at polling places throughout the county. It turns out the number of actual voting machines assigned to each precinct is based on the number of registered voters (reasonable enough) as a per centage of total voters (O.K.) and as a result many precincts received exactly one voting machine (seriously?! WTF?). The extra-long ballot took close to a minute to feed into the machine meaning a maximum of 60-70 voters per hour throughput, until the machine malfunctioned, which some of them did more than once. In addition, the elderly and handicapped were not accommodated but were expected to stand in line with everyone else.

There are already letters to the editor in the newspaper (the very next day in a morning paper which is kind of impressive in itself) charging incompetence, which I am inclined to believe, and claiming intentional voter suppression, which doesn't make a lot of sense since this is a heavily Republican area and the election was put together by Republicans. As I said yesterday, I don't tend to make political predictions, but I think this will be remembered next cycle, and not to the advantage of those in charge.

Fortunately, our swing state was not determinative to the outcome after all, so our election was merely farce, not tragedy.

Democalypse Now!

I'm feeling much better about waiting in line for almost 3.5 hours to vote early Friday. At least it was warm and sunny.

It was with some trepidation that I went to the library today knowing it is a polling place and the parking lot would be crowded. I waited to go until after a very heavy downpour had subsided to a drizzle and found the back third of the overflow lot (which had been retopped and striped just before the weekend) was open. There were over 100 drenched and soggy people outside huddled in line under the dripping eaves waiting to get inside the side door to the community room where the polls had been set up. The storm also caused the temperature to drop a good ten degrees.

During early voting, all ballots were cast at the half dozen county offices and long lines were kind of expected but now, on election day, when a third of the electorate has already voted early and there are 125 separate voting precincts in this county alone, still: the lines.

I blame, in part, the enormous ballot, including eleven proposed state constitutional amendments (the twelfth was dropped for some legal technicality) presented in their entirety in English and Spanish. Also, the fact we are a swing state (although not, this year, the swing state) makes people believe their vote might make a difference and helps to raise turnout.

By mid-afternoon, the line outdoors was gone although the community room was still full.

I don't normally make political predictions but, based on what I'm hearing and reading about people's frustrating experiences this time around, I think next time folks will remember how the governor limited voting hours and the legislature fobbed off their responsibilities to create a monster ballot. Being an incumbent might not be pleasant.

Good Citizens

I voted early late yesterday. It was an interesting exercise in civic virtue and endurance.

5:10 p.m. -- Found a parking spot in the nearly full lot across the street from the county office and got in line. I'm less than fifteen feet from the entrance. Unfortunately the line goes the other way, down the length of the building into another parking lot, disappears around the corner and comes back again alongside the building to the door. Some female DJ has set up just past the door and is urging people to get excited, clap, cheer and dance in line while she alternates playing patriotic songs ("Anchors Aweigh," "The Ballad of the Green Berets," "The Caissons Go Rolling Along") and Village People hits (unless "In the Navy" is considered a patriotic song now). At least, in this segment of the line, we are slowly shuffling away from her.

5:25 p.m. -- The sun is shining, the air is warm, the sky is cloudless and deep with sixteen buzzards lazily circling together high overhead sharing a single thermal. The short Cuban woman immediately in front of me is reading her Nook. We've made some progress and the line has filled in behind us but we can still hear the music. The cameraman from the local Fox station has panned the crowd a couple of times and is leaving.

5:35 p.m. -- The two rather large young women behind me are on a cell phone: "We're going to the rodeo tomorrow night. Ask him if he wants us to take his truck there and sell it. There'll be, like, a thousand cowboys there."

5:50 p.m. -- We have reached the first turn. The line is revealed to be sort of golf club-shaped and we have traveled down the length of the shaft and are just starting across the base of the club head. The flock of buzzards has drifted off to the east.

6:05 p.m. -- I have a better view of the crowd as it loops around. There are people of European, African and Asian extraction, some in mixed groups, and a few unidentifiables. There are singles, couples and families, older folks with large bellies and tractor caps, young people with very short and very long hair, a couple of shirt and tie types and -- this being Florida -- a whole slew of Bermuda shorts and polo shirts.

6:10 p.m. -- Starting the second hour. The whole bottom-of-the-club-head part of the line, being in the parking lot, has to shuffle around like an immobile conga line to allow two cars that we have surrounded to leave. We imitate a rough sine wave. Both vehicles escape. No one loses their place. The Cuban woman looks up from her story to tell me how impressed she is that we Americans are actually willing to stand in line this long for anything.

6:15 p.m. -- We have reached the second turn and are now moving toward the top of the club head. People who are part of groups are temporarily dropping out of line to go sit on the curb. One gentleman is leaning against a Dumpster and the family a couple of people in front of the Cuban woman who is back to reading her Nook have split up with the mom taking the baby and carriage off somewhere.

6:40 p.m. -- The third turn. We are now starting across the top of the club head. We are also, at last, on the sidewalk that circles the building. Which means, we are also, finally, headed toward the entrance to the polling station. It gives us a sense of accomplishment. The sun goes down. Although the sky stays yellow and pale blue, without clouds the air cools quickly. Somewhere behind the rodeo girls, I overhear one couple talking to another about how they have friends in Illinois. I hear the words "their senator" and "well, they ought to know, then" but cannot tell either from context or tone of voice whether they are praising Obama or damning him.

6:55 p.m. -- The building exterior lights come on. Although the sky overhead has turned indigo, toward the horizon it's still pinkish orange creating intricately delicate silhouettes from the palm trees. The rodeo girls are talking with a young Nicaraguan woman who is voting for the first time. From what I can gather one of their horses (it's hard to tell from the names. They could just as easily be discussing a ranch hand) got in with the goats and scared them.

7:00 p.m. -- The final turn. From here its a straight line to the front door down a long narrow pink stucco arched arcade dripping with giant spider webs spun around and under the recessed ceiling lights (which is really pretty smart when you think about it because that's exactly where the moths and other night insects are going to go) and which the numerous, and very large, spiders are busy repairing and expanding. We remark on something we have all noticed: Although we see people being let in in groups, we have not seen anyone leaving. I suggest they're storing voters in a large underground vault, but one of the rodeo girls insists that if you don't vote for Obama, they just kill you right there. Can't tell if she approves or not.

7:10 p.m. -- Start of the third hour.  The reactions of the people when they turn that corner and recognize the final gauntlet they must negotiate is amusing. Several, including the larger of the rodeo girls, decide to step out of the arcade and move along on the lawn parallel to the line. The line itself develops knots and gaps as people bunch up between light fixtures and avoid standing directly under webs. The spiders do have a tendency to jiggle around and occasionally drop a foot or two before catching themselves.

7:20 p.m. -- The larger rodeo girl rejoins us and the Nicaraguan amuses herself by playing "what's that on your shoulder?" with her. The Nicaraguan then begins to imagine that creepy things are on her but I let her know it's just karma crawling up her back.

7:25 p.m. -- There is a stifled scream behind us and we turn to see an open circle of six people staring at their feet. Apparently, a spider lost its footing, but they all bravely stomped it.

7:35 p.m. -- We're at the door! It is being guarded by a sweet little old lady of iron will and steel determination. She asks how many in our group (which we have sort of become over the course of the evening) and when one of the rodeo girls pipes up, "Table for eight, please," shuts the door in front of the Cuban woman.

7:40 p.m. -- We actually see some people leave and the gatekeeper lady lets the Cuban and me in. We are greeted by another line, this one to present IDs. There are three stations but only one in use. As we stand there a second station opens up. The rodeo girls and the Nicaraguan are let in. I say, "That's what you get for being a smart-ass," to the one who requested the table and she grins.

7:45 p.m. -- The Cuban lady and I present ID. Basically, you swipe your driver's license (or other acceptable form of ID including credit or debit card(!?! Seriously, WTF? debit or credit card?) Mine is fine but it turns out the Cuban lady has requested and received an absentee ballot and does not have it with her or proof that she did not already use it and so, after two hours and 35 minutes in line, she is taken away.

7:50 p.m. -- I sign electronically that I am not committing voter fraud and am sent to the next table where my ballot is printed out. I am told that, in this county, thanks to various local offices, referenda and initiatives, there are 32 possible different ballots. Every voter gets a custom one based on their precinct. mine is four large sheets, printed on both sides.

7:55 p.m. -- I manage to find the only sit down voting station in the building.

8:10 p.m. -- Beginning hour four.

8:15 p.m. -- I finish marking my ballot, put it in the protective "privacy jacket" and take it to the vote counting machine where, under the very-careful-not-to-notice-how-you-voted scrutiny of a poll worker I, after verifying my identity, feed the sheets into the machine. I give them back their pen and "privacy jacket" and they give me an "I Voted" sticker.

8:20 p.m. -- The rodeo girls and the Nicaraguan are finishing up the same time I am. We're all veterans now so we just nod and smile a little and say "goodbye." The parking lot is almost empty when I retrieve my car.

I find out later the Cuban lady had to cast a provisional ballot until the County Clerk's office can track down her absentee ballot. She spent all that time in line Friday because she works two jobs both Saturday, the last day of early voting, and Tuesday, election day. I, of course, have no idea who she voted for but with that kind of dedication this country's in good shape.

Eat Your Heart Out, Hammacher Schlemmer

The catalogs have been coming in pretty steadily for the past few weeks now and the floodgates will open soon but we may have received the winner of the season already.

In along with Grandin Road (the purveyor of those new Hallowe'en ghoulies we had out this year), Stauer (watches and jewelry), Smithsonian, National Wildlife Fund and a couple of others was Museum Tour, a new one to me.

Most of what Museum Tour offers is standard science education stuff for kids of various ages: puzzles, games, experiments, microscopes, telescopes, chemistry sets and selected intellectually stimulating toys.

And then there's the life-size Tyrannosaurus rex skeleton.

Thirteen feet tall, 39 feet long and weighing 661 pounds, this is a museum-quality cast resin model for only $249,000! Delivery and expert installation extra.

From the web site:

Educator Comments:Not everyone has room for a full sized T-Rex in their home, but if you do, you can be assured that the quality of this model is excellent and will make a perfect display. Museums around the world have installed this large dinosaur to the amazement of their audiences. The Geoword lab is meticulous about details. Even if you could find one, a "fossilized" T-Rex would be extremely heavy and cost many millions of dollars to display. This detailed representation is the way to go. It will inspire children and adults who are interested in the story of evolution.

        If you are interested in purchasing this model for yourself or a local museum, please call during business hours for details about shipping and installation. As you might imagine, displaying this large creature is not easy. An experienced team will be sent to your site to install the T-Rex to meet your specifications.

Of course, if that's a little beyond your budget (and in these times we would certainly understand) you can purchase just the skull (as seen in the rear of the photos) for a mere $24,900.

The web site helpfully lists the item status as "In Stock."

Don't delay! Order yours today!

All Things Considered, That Went Well

We survived the looting and pillaging mini-hordes. It took ten bags of candy to do it, but we didn't run out and actually have a few pieces left over for ourselves, like we need them.

Earlier in the day I came home to find my brother upset because he'd decided to frost the skeleton cakes with a glaze, apparently not realizing just how runny that would be (why not I don't know, it's not like he's never seen a glazed cake before), and ended up with two skulls that looked as if they'd been used for candle holders with wax dripping all down the sides. I liked the effect, but he didn't.

Later, he tried making a "fire" pit using colored streamers blown upward by a fan but, after a couple of hours constructing the thing, the fan he had wasn't strong enough to move anything so he went out but couldn't find a single window fan at WalMart (!) and finally purchased one at Lowe's which didn't have enough power, either, so the whole project went south. He took it surprisingly well, which is not his normal M.O.

The actual bribing of the monsters started a little late and slow this year but picked up after 8 p.m. and eventually ran long. I especially enjoyed the tiny three-year-old Batman and also the slightly older Batman who, being a little unclear on the concept, upon hearing us yell, "Hey, there's Batman!" lifted his mask and insisted, "No! It's me!" Never seen him before. We had a pair of moving sound-activated ghosts suspended from wires that crisscrossed the driveway moaning and cackling. Some kids were freaked out but the ones I liked were the kids who were so fascinated that they forget all about asking for treats and just stared transfixed as the ghosts floated by overhead.

The police stopped by at the height of the festivities and we were worried either the cars parked up and down the median strip of the main road were causing a hazard or the neighborhood curmudgeon had complained. (He's filed formal complaints at one time or another against every single property owner adjacent to him and a couple of others that aren't.) It turned out to be just a routine patrol and we all carried on.

The weirdest thing I saw all night though were pick-up trucks with flatbed trailers (the kind lawn care companies use to transport mowers) kitted out with chairs and even a porch swing all filled with kids cruising  through looking for likely neighborhoods to loot. Apparently, those trailers are a thing down here.