That lovely Tuesday night, November 4th, began with Yours Truly shooting some football out at the BigU, a nationally-televised throwdown.
That they won.
At one point went up to the student seating sections and wended between shouting spirited co-eds, making images of their various headgear and mouths in enthusiastic agape condition.
Tim Russert's sister did the cointoss and there was a vid of his son, Luke, saying hi to the nice folks in the stadium.
Yours Truly recalls that when things went dark for Russert there was much discussion that he had pushed himself to the max in preparation for the presidential election.
Little Geo Stephanopoulos has claimed, or more fully claimed, the mantle of the country's leading popstar of punditry.
A femme of red party status said of George that she'd like to prop him up like a teddy bear in the middle of her bed.
Geo reminds YT of a puppet from her childhood's distant past.
Is it Harvey the dentist of Rudolph fame. This will require more subconscious delving.
Which brings me and You to the next matter at hand: the presidential election.
The one that began, truly, in February, and that stumbled and glaciered along until last Tuesday with the glorious results.
Two favoured images from the evening - a couple gleefully dance on Allen Street after hearing the results, and the screen and history writ large in the lobby of Ellicott Square Building downtown.
Where all good Dems go to say a gracious thanks to their voters, and volunteers go to tipple, and publicans go to feel part of big history.
Big, historical, pixel-rich Love.

Big Blue Love.

The image above is entitled Haybale House Still Life, made during yesterday's gig in a suburb.
A woman is building a new home on her old property and it's all hay, wattle, and daub. It has boulders cemented into the new foyer floor, a tree de-barked as a central post. It will also feature glass block windows, solar heat, and two new kitties.
Her last kitties perhaps caused, and died in, her last house when it went up in a blaze.

Halloween was its usual spectacle-rich self.
Yours Truly went out conceptually, as a (successful) male Democrat politician - superheroes of sorts in my Perfect book.
Dined with Jen, Eric, Little Laura on Saturday night in newly-crimsoned Trattoria Aroma. I could not help but to think they need to commission me to do large-scale pencil drawings for their pristine glowing walls.

Onwards YT sped to two H parties, the latter a Mac jukebox dance fete.
Annie's costume featured faux two-toned nails and faux crackpipe burn.
You can fill in the costumary blanks.

Today is Election Day Eve.
Do vote tomorrow.
Recall, if You will, that Al Gore, according to red party lore, lost the 2K election by approximately 540 votes.
If You think one vote matters not, you is wrong.

Heading out now to Maggie Roblin's funeral, now free from ALS, sailing up between what we know and what we don't.

Voting Love, Love, Love.