WE BULKED UP ON GARLIC AND OLIVES, FACED TOUGHER CALL AT BALLOT BOX
Joe Fiorito, jfiorito@thestar.ca

Toronto Star
Oct 15, 2008 04:30 AM
Canada

And so to Woodbridge on the weekend, to the small fall fair there,
because we love half-tonne pumpkins, blue-ribbon pies, beets the size
of loaves of bread, homemade quilts, and the sounds of the pipe organ
coming from the carousel.

We also saw some pigs and llamas and a lemur, and at the petting zoo
we were very happy to see goats, the way they caper, and the way kids
love petting kids.

We may have mentioned this before; she raised goats in the old days
and is still drawn to them in a way that we find charming.

We bought a sack of organic garlic, two heads each of half a dozen
varieties, including Italian, Armenian, Russian and Carpathian;
the latter are suitable, we presume, for repelling vampires and Tom
Cruise, whom we cannot abide.

We therefore gave a wide berth to the Scientology tent that had been
set up on the fairgrounds. The fact that there was a Scientology tent
at the Woodbridge fall fair is either a sign of our plainly generous
Canadian inclusiveness, or a sign of something else altogether. We’re
keeping our garlic close to our chest until we’re sure.

On the way home from the fair, we stopped at the supermarket at the
corner of Martin Grove and Highway 7. The smell of grapes was in the
air. A fellow had set up a tent in the parking lot and he was crushing
grapes for anyone who had plans to make wine at home but did not have
a crusher.

We bought some sausage and some pasta in the market. As we sauntered
past a pallet stacked with boxes of green olives, we fell into
conversation with two older women. They were discussing the best
way to cure olives. The older of the ladies said she uses brine;
the younger of the ladies uses lye.

That’s not unlike our choice at the ballot box.

We did what we were impelled to do, and bought a box of olives. That’s
18 pounds. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

As we made our way to the checkout, the husband of one of the women –
he did not speak much English – waved and said, "Okay, see you guys."

Bellissimo.

We rose early this morning and walked down the street to the school to
cast our vote. The state of our RRSPs remains unclear; ditto the state
of newspapers everywhere. It occurred to us that we could be working
for the rest of our lives, or we could find that there is no work for
us at all, and we will have to turn our hand yet again to the novel.

We made our thoughtful way to the polling station and were thankful
for a whole lot of reasons; mostly that our system is not the American
system; also that there were a couple of superlative candidates in
our riding.

One of these is smart and thoughtful and she made an impact in
Parliament as the member of a smallish party; she lives in the riding.

Another of these is also smart and thoughtful and the leader of
one of the major parties owes him a big favour. He does not live in
the riding.

You see the results this morning.

We don’t care much for sour grapes. That’s not strictly true. We were
looking forward to eating the grapes on our backyard vine; many fat
clusters, some green and some red; alas, animals got them first.

That is the way of nature, and of politics. We are left with 18 pounds
of bitter green olives; our choice now is brine or lye.