Being a sane person who now lives within a five-hour drive of Washington DC, I’ve decided to attend the Rally to Restore Sanity/March to Keep Fear Alive next Saturday, October 30th. For those of you who live in foreign lands or don’t have cable, this event is being held by Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert, hosts of The Daily Show and The Colbert Report. They generally serve as court jesters pointing out the absurdity in American politics. Anyway, they are hella’ funny and smart, and I think the rally will be a blast as long as I bring several layers and a polar fleece. I’m also exactly the type of person the rally is intended for—someone who believes in sanity in politics, but is too lazy to leave my apartment to campaign or attend any rallies to do anything about it. It’s a rally for people who don’t usually attend rallies! That’s me!

I’m crashing with an old high school friend Friday night, and I’m leaving the city right after the rally ends at 3pm. But if you are in town Saturday morning, perhaps we could meet up and eat up at a breakfast establishment before huddling together for warmth at the rally. Comment here or email me at blog (at) pastaqueen [dot] com. We’ll figure something out. Just don’t be surprised when you see that I’m 50 pounds heavier than from my thinnest, ok? It’s good insulation, my head hurts, and sometimes I need the ice cream.

If you don’t live close to Washington DC, you can check this meetup page to see if there is a satellite rally happening near you. According to the rally web site, the event will be broadcast live on Comedy Central and streamed live on their web site. Watch and try to spot me! It will be like playing Where’s Waldo.

Uh, no thanks. I don’t think I will. My cat might be interested though.

“Uh, no,” I told her after a short pause. I couldn’t believe my mother was asking me this question. My mother, who compulsively checked the stove before leaving the house. My mother, who carefully staged all the food on the dining room table the night before departure so she wouldn’t forget anything. My mother, who made me top off my car’s coolant in the dark and cold on Christmas Eve so she wouldn’t worry about my car overheating on the drive down. How could my mother ever possibly misplace a crockpot full of meatballs?

“I carried them out and put them on the sidewalk by your trunk,” Sister-in-law chimed in. Two seconds later we all simultaneously made the same realization: We had left a crockpot full of meatballs on the sidewalk in front of my mother’s apartment.

“Do you think they’ll still be there when we get back?” I asked Brother and Sister-in-law on the drive back home four hours later. Sister-in-law was confidant that yes, the crockpot of meatballs would still be there, because neighbors wouldn’t steal other neighbors’ meatballs. She said that if she saw a crockpot full of meatballs on the sidewalk of her neighborhood, she would assume someone had left them there and would be back for them eventually.

I was uncertain whether the crockpot or the meatballs would still be there. I had seen many dog walkers in my mother’s apartment complex and was concerned that some of the mutts may have smelled the meatballs and knocked the glass lid off the slow cooker to have a holiday snack. I also knew that whenever someone left a couch or dresser and bookshelf near the dumpster in my own apartment complex, it was quickly scavenged by someone else. The crockpot was at least 30 years old, and definitely looked like something someone might throw away. We hadn’t left it by the dumpster though, which meant context was going in its favor.

Brother sided with Sister-in-Law, claiming that an empty crockpot might be scavenged quickly, but the presence of meatballs inside the crockpot would lead any snatch-and-grabbers to conclude that this crockpot had not been discarded on purpose.

As we turned the corner onto my mother’s street, there was great anticipation. Would the meatballs still be there? Would the crockpot?

Yes! The crockpot and the meatballs were both still there, just as we’d left them, four and a half hours later. The meatballs were still fairly warm too, even though they’d spent hours in the cold. We quickly recovered our crockpot and meatballs and returned them to the safety of my mother’s apartment. Later that night as we laughed about the situation, we also wondered if somewhere in the apartment complex a family was having a similar discussion about the mysterious crockpot full of meatballs they’d seen on the sidewalk and how it had disappeared just as mysteriously as it had appeared.

I was driving to Cleveland in the dark and I’d had a headache for half of Ohio, when Elna Baker came on my MP3 player. I had downloaded podcasts of The Moth, a storytelling show based in New York, and the latest episode featured the comedian/writer/Mormon recounting a family trip to Cyprus (which you can listen to here). My second reaction was, “Man, my family vacations only occurred at lame places (like Gettysburg,which is as interesting as you think a field would be) or predictable places, like Ocean City (love the salt water taffy). Why didn’t I get to go to Cyprus?” This was my second reaction because my first reaction was laughter, which helped me get through the rest of Ohio.

Later, I looked up information on Elna Baker and realized I’d heard her before, on This American Life where she told another funny, yet disturbing story, about selling dolls at FAO Schwarz. So, when I saw that she had a memoir coming out this October 15th called The New York Regional Mormon Singles Halloween Dance, I requested a copy to review, which is why I am typing this and you are reading this now.

The memoir is a humorous and moving tale of Elna’s life as a 20-something Mormon in New York who has lost 80 pounds. It’s peppered with some stories from her childhood, but the driving storylines of the book are Elna’s search for a boyfriend who doesn’t treat Mormonism like an STD, and her shifting relationship with her faith which is tested and changed by her experiences in New York City.

While I don’t subscribe to Elna’s particular beliefs, her descriptions of how she feels about her faith and the comfort it gives her were touching. It was refreshing to read a book by someone who is sincerely religious, but not preachy, and still has their sense of humor firmly in tact. I can tell that the Mormon community means a lot to her, but she’s also honest about the doubts she’s had about it and the problems she’s encountered with her faith.

But, don’t let that make you think this is a heavy book. It weighs less than a pound and contains many humorous, self-deprecating stories about Elna’s adventures. As I mentioned, she lost 80 pounds in her early 20′s, and then had to learn how to deal with men who never would have flirted with her before. She talks about her loose skin problems (as I have), and explains why she decided to have a tummy tuck. While I recommend the book, I do not recommend losing weight the way Elna did, which involved a crash diet and Fen-phen (though in her defense she didn’t realize that was what her doctor was prescribing her).

Overall, the book is infused with a childlike enthusiasm for the world and all the wonders in it. Where it occasionally stumbles in technique, it makes up for in spirit. Elna has a conversational writing style that is probably an extension of her stand-up comedy experience. She is unafraid to reveal personal stories that leave her vulnerable, an act I respect and admire.

The book is interspersed with humorous drawings and diagrams about Elna’s love life and beliefs at different ages. By the end of the book, things still felt somewhat unresolved, but that is probably because the author still wrestles with these issues herself. Anyway, this was a funny, pleasurable read and if you like the tone of my blog, you’ll probably like this book. It’s official release day is today, Thursday, October 15.

At the end I was left with only on big question. In one chapter she talks about making out with a famous guy she met at the sushi restaurant she works at in New York. She doesn’t give us the leading man’s real name, but he would be about 70-years-old, is an actor and a writer, married, and she says, “he’s up there with Robert Redford, Paul Newman, and Jack Nicholson in terms of classic sex appeal, age, and fame. Also, my all-time favorite screen kiss, one that I’ve watched over and over again, belongs to him.” It’s not Warren Beatty. The fact that she couldn’t say who it was has now made his identity far more interesting to me that it would have been otherwise. So, dear readers, please tell me, who did Elna Baker French kiss? I need to know! If we put our heads together, I know we can figure this one out. My best guess was Harrison Ford, but he’s not a writer.

I’ve laughed and laughed and laughed at this video ever since a friend instant messaged me with the link. What a silly little hamster, running as fast as he can to escape the wok, but never making any progress.

“Why doesn’t he ever figure out it’s pointless?” I asked my friend. Then I started the video at the beginning and watched it again. But upon this viewing I started to wonder, are there things in my life that I am attacking like a hamster in a wok? Is there anything I am working and fussing and plowing at head on, making no progress, when it would be better to take another approach? If so, some highly evolved organism might be laughing at a YouTube video of me too.

Then I found this video of cats on a slide and started laughing all over again.

Saturday, November 1, 2008

1:40 pm – I pull into the parking lot at the north side early voting station, one of three locations in Marion County, easily located by glut of political signs in the grass. Front lot is packed.

1:42 pm – Pull into back parking lot driving past unimaginably long line which wraps past two buildings and ends at the dumpster. Is this the line to vote or for tickets for a mythical Led Zeppelin reunion tour? Consider going home, but doubt the line will be shorter on election day. Realize I would just lie on couch in post-Halloween stupor anyway. May as well stand in line on this lovely day in a post-Halloween stupor. Brought a book. I may be achy, but I am prepared.

1:45 pm – Get in line. Pull out my stopwatch and start timing.

1:46 pm – Already want to kill man in front of me. He is complaining on the phone that the line is “sick.” Somebody didn’t bring a book.

1:55 pm – A child and her mother walk past the line pulling a cooler on wheels. Water bottles are $1. Money goes to the career center we are waiting to enter. Glad I brought my soda and cheese sticks. Will not collapse from heatstroke or low blood sugar for at least another couple hours, enough time to jump the bodies of the fallen dehydrated victims ahead of me.

1:59 pm – People are campaigning up and down the line, handing out flyers. Don’t need one because I brought my own bookmark. Glad I am wearing sunglasses. Easy to avoid eye contact with pollsters as I gaze deeply into my book.

2:05 pm – Arm is sore. Why did I bring a hardback? Should have brought trashy paperback instead.

2:07 pm – Finish soda.

2:10 pm – Eat cheese sticks.

2:11 pm – Why did I wear a sweater? November day is unusually warm, particularly while standing in the sunlight. Roll up sleeves and feel slightly better. Shade is only 20 feet away. Too bad it will take 20 minutes.

2:17 pm – Child pulls on one of the campaign signs. Parents warn her not to rip out the sign or face prosecution. Doubt I will ever see a news story about a 5-year-old arrested for breaking election laws. Why hasn’t a dirty candidate employed a team of sweatshop children to do this work for him?

2:28 pm – See a coworker walking towards the end of the line. Say hi. Momentarily consider offering to let him cut line, but decide I would rather not be strung up from the tree beside me. Chat briefly. He has not brought a book or water. I feel so sorry for him.

2:41 pm – Wish I had brought MP3 player. People in line are having inane conversations on their cell phones about political views I do not agree with. How dare they talk about politics at a voting station!

3:45 pm – Standing for an hour burns more calories than sitting for an hour. Will count this as my workout for the day.

3:05 pm – I can almost see the entrance to the building. Wish they had signs posted in the ground stating how much longer the wait would be like I’ve seen at popular tourist destinations. Not like there is a shortage of signs around here.

3:11 pm – I have now met 3 people who are running for office trying to sway undecided voters. If they had brought cookies, they might be more successful, though that would be illegal since it would be vote buying. Momentarily horrified that in some circumstances cookies could be against the law.

3:14 pm – Pollster walks by and says, “Don’t worry. You won’t finish the book before you vote.” I laugh, but cry on the inside because politicians are notorious liars.

3:30 pm – I am only 20 people away from entering the building. Meet nice brunette woman who is running for something and asks if I’m in the 7th district. I have no idea, yet I want to vote for her because her purple eye shadow so nicely matches her lavender pantsuit. Know this is horrible reason to vote for someone, unless she is running for sheriff of the fashion police. Secretly wonder how many people vote for reasons exactly as shallow as that.

3:32 pm – I enter the building!

3:33 pm – Oh dear God, there are still at least 100 people in front of me.

3:34 pm – Call coworker to let him know I just got inside. Someone in line is talking to him about Jesus. All sorts of campaigners out today.

3:37pm – Fill out absentee voting application on clipboard handed to me by a school teacher whose voice is fading like my joy of taking part in the electoral process.

3:38 pm – Student walks by with a cart of brownies and chips. Cheese sticks seem like five years ago.

3:40 pm – Election worker prints out a sticker with my voting district on it and slaps it on an envelope which she hands to me. I head for another line.

3:46 pm – Another election worker matches my voting district with a ballot number. Writes it on my envelope.

3:50 pm – An election worker prints out the proper ballot for my district on a laser printer. I get in yet another line.

3:54 pm – There is joyous yelling and bell ringing. No, the wait isn’t over. We’re just celebrating a first-time voter.

3:57 pm – Another election worker double checks my printed ballot with the number written on my envelope. They match and I am sent to a voting booth.

3:58 pm – I fill in my bubbles. Takes 15 seconds. Triple-check to make sure I didn’t accidentally vote for a Libertarian. Stuff ballot in envelope.

4:01 pm – Hand envelope and absentee voting application to another election worker. I sign and date the envelope. He signs the envelope as does another election worker. He seals it with a glue stick.

4:04 pm – I leave the building. Whole process took 2 hours, 20 minutes and 42 pages.

4:07 pm – Drive out of parking lot. Do not want to be present to witness the fury of the owner of the car that’s trapped between two other parked cars. They might be trapped for another two hours and ten minutes, plenty of time to smash some windows and key the car.

4:17 pm – Arrive home. Back hurts. Drink lots of water. Change into t-shirt. Collapse on couch in post-voting stupor. Experience was long and daunting, but worth it. If you do not make a choice, a choice will be made for you.

Please vote.

Act 1: The stocks have fallen and they can’t get up.

Act 2: Oh wait, they have Life Alert (aka 700 billion from Congress). They can get up after all!

Act 3: You may have Life Alert, but your hip’s still broken. (Stocks plunge again. The world markets recoil.)

* Members of the media, feel free to use these photos in your own economic articles, provided you link back to me :)