The Zoom That Never Ends

Inspirational song: Ironman (Ozzy Osbourne)

A few months after each election, our county party holds a long reorganization meeting. Today was my third such experience, the first time I got to attend propped up on pillows, with an unlimited stream of coffee, popcorn, and Milk Duds. What an improvement. When we meet in person, I often feel like I'm just a seat-filler. While I am familiar with most of the office-holders, and have conversational relationships with a few of them, I'm only mildly active compared with most of the group. I don't speak up. I only barely step up. I just vote, and almost always with the easy choices. Today, on Zoom for eight hours, where all (but one) votes were unanimous consent, I was there to help provide quorum. But that in itself is a necessary role, and it was a worthy sacrifice of a Saturday. Would have been better if someone hadn't pooped in the punch bowl, right at the very end, extending the meeting by almost an hour over a legal technicality, right as all of the folks running the meeting were running out of steam and good graces. I felt awful for the chair, vice chair, and all the people trying to create delicately-worded slides for us to vote on at the last minute, while half a dozen people tried to throw in amendments to it. They all sounded so tired and frazzled. I hope they stayed home afterwards, and unwound with a food or beverage of choice, and a comfortable place to recline.

I broke up a little of the meeting by running out and getting baby cuddles. She climbed all over me while I ate leftover chili. She just couldn't understand why grandma wasn't sharing that one with her, like she does every other food. (I didn't want an angry phone call from her parents, if the greasy beef upset her tummy.) After her second nap, I had brought her into my room to listen while they were in a breakout meeting for a different state senate district than mine (right before it went off the rails). My daughter showed up to bring her home, and it was like a whole different baby appeared. That kid lit up like Christmas. She went into the spare room to get a pair of leggings for the baby (she was bare-legged), and Valerie cried like she thought she had been abandoned. So while we are finally reaching my favorite stage with baby jokes, we are also getting the first signs of separation anxiety. Poor baby.