It doesn't take much to amuse me ...

This morning I was really itching to get out of the house. I had a purpose: taking a leisurely walk to our local polling place and casting my ballot for the next governor of New York, among other local, state and federal office hopefuls.

It's been a long, strange fall. There's not been a lot of movement on my part nor interest in the effort. Getting out of the house hasn't been a priority, sadly, either.

As evidenced in this diatribe, I'm already suffering from cabin fever of sorts.

So at 7 a.m., precisely six minutes AFTER he had gotten out of the shower and silently commenced performing is back exercises on the bedroom floor, Annabel and I were looming over Jed's outstretched form, bundled head-to-toe in scarves and jackets and mittens, willing him by sheer mind control (and our ominous presence) to get a move on.

It felt good to get out in the morning air. To walk in the winter-coming chill.

Of course the real chill came over me as we ambled down Church Street and noticed the small throng of photographers at gubernatorial candidate John Faso's house.

And out they bound from the house ... flash bulbs a-snappin'.

"Shit-a ... Should have waited another 10 minutes."

As the gaggle of ooglers slows down the famous family, presumably to capture them in all this town's fall grandeur, we sprint ahead, hoping to avoid the crowd. But we can't avoid the hoopla.

Jed takes Annabel in to the voting booth with him. I watch as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. When the curtain opens with the metallic sound of an accordion, she reaches out for me.

We switch off. Jed announces to the crowd that Annabel gets to "vote" a second time.

I can hear the happy murmur of the camera set as they keep snapping away -- displacing elections workers to get their shots of Mr. Faso. They are laughing about the toddler voting twice.

After I've made my selections and let Annabel pull the lever to reactivate the privacy curtain, the metal clang is met with a shock of flashes aimed in our direction.

It seems they'd taken all the pictures they could of the man who would be governor (if not for the man who will win the election) and wanted to waste card space on us and our "double" vote.

I can't stop smiling, despite the blinding light.

It has occurred to me that just with the serendipity of our arrival, we've cancelled out his vote.