So I arrived at the town's only polling place at 7:05 a.m., and there were long, long lines at each of the precinct tables. When I received my ballot, I was the 26th Republican just at the East Glenrock table.

Saw lots of people who work in Casper -- some of whom I didn't even realize vote in Converse County.

When my ballot went into the machine, it was the 43rd into that machine -- each precinct has its own machine.

Converse County voters are voting to increase the sales tax to pay for two projects -- a new detention center and a new animal shelter.

There's something sort of weird about watching two hours of SNL Presidential Bash just before sleeping and voting for the real deal just after waking.

The election season has ended -- the next phase of American democracy is just about to begin.

And yes, I'm proudly wearing my "I Voted," sticker, along with my two flag pins on my shirt. The other buttons are safe at home, reminders of a fall not soon forgotten -- for a variety of reasons.

So at coffee in Laramie on Wednesday morning, I found out that Dick Cheney was coming to town on Saturday.

By Thursday morning, the friend had received permission to leave work early on Saturday morning.

And so the alarm rang at 4:30 a.m., and my eyes were scratchy.

I showered and was not finished dressing when the friend, who by now had been awake for 28 hours, arrived 10 minutes before 5.

We drove in the dark, two pioneering souls in our early and late 50's, to experience something we never had before -- a political rally with the vice president of the United States in the high school I graduated from.

There was an annoying hiccup outside, but after that, it was an incredible 2-1/2 hours.

Official numbers put the crowd at 300 -- I would have thought it was smaller than that.

It was a Pi Phi reunion, with Bobbi Barrasso, Cynthia Lummis, Barb Dilts and I.

So then it was Vice President Cheney's turn, and it was obvious that it meant a lot to him to be there -- in Laramie, where he and Lynne first lived as newlyweds in married student housing.

He said in his three decades in public service, "I was proud to be recognized as the 'gentleman from Wyoming.'"

Afterward, much of the crowd in front of us began filing out. We were still chatting with assorted friends, and then I realized the television spotlight was on, in the front row.

No, the vice president hadn't ducked behind the blue curtain. Instead, he was signing autographs for anyone who was smart enough to walk to the front instead of to the exit.

I had nothing for him to sign -- no bumper stickers, no huge placards, nothing.

So after a derailment to hug the Albany County Sheriff, who also is a Laramie High Class of '74 graduate, I was right there.

The vice president was chatting with a woman and I didn't want to interrupt, so I stuck out my hand and said, "Thank you for your service."

And he shook my hand.

Was it worth waking at 4:30 a.m.? Absolutely.

And then the Pokes won.

It was an awesome day.

So the new nest is aglow in fall favorites. There are pumpkin pie-scented candles everywhere there is a surface and extras waiting to be called for duty on closet shelves.

The three pumpkins lining the driveway have been joined by six copper solar lights, which I found in a Sunday ad, found at the big store, put together and installed all by myself.

The ginormous bags of candy are stashed away, although the friend has found the Snickers and Reese's peanut butter cups.

Everything is in readiness for Halloween with the hope that plenty of trick or treaters will ring the bell.

The other night, we enjoyed unfiltered cider, which tastes way better than sweet, processed sugary stuff but still doesn't taste like the cider I remember from Michigan.

We're hoping to get to an Oktoberfest-themed party at church on Sunday and the snazzed-up sauerkraut will be ready in case we are able to go.

Fall is a blessed time. It seems as though everything and everyone -- from the trucks with their new tires and windshield wipers to the sunlight with its still powerful 9-1/2 hours or so -- is preparing for the big change.

A friend from Minnesota misses the red leaves that mean fall back there. To us, fall means gold. It's all relative.

And we're happy to be a part of it.

I have never watched an episode of "Survivor," or "Nanny," or MOST other reality shows.

Alone with the dog, I'd watch the Bachelor or the Bachelorette but never liked their choices and couldn't stand the drama ... but I was careful to not admit to any sane person that I watched it.

So when I was homeless and a house guest for nearly two weeks, I happened upon "America's Got Talent." Except for Jerry Springer's annoying shouting and judge Piers Morgan's annoying criticism of nearly everyone, I got hooked right away.

And the friend with whom I was staying got hooked as well -- and then blamed me.

And the reason we were hooked immediately is 32-year-old Neal E. Boyd of Sikeston, Mo., who is now headed for Las Vegas to headline a show one night only at the MGM Grand on Friday, Oct. 17.

His voice is incredible. He has made opera more popular than the junk on the radio. And he will do amazing things.

The reality of this show is that it was a gift to those of us who watched.

Here's some info on the Las Vegas show:

Tickets priced at $99.50, $57.50, $49.50 and $39.50, not including applicable service charges, are now on sale at the MGM Grand Garden Arena box office and at all Las Vegas Ticketmaster locations (select Smith’s Food and Drug Centers, and Macy’s West at the Fashion Show Mall). Ticket sales are limited to eight (8) per person. To charge by phone with a major credit card, call Ticketmaster at (702) 474-4000. Tickets also are available for purchase at www.mgmgrand.com or www.ticketmaster.com.

So I went to Morp on Saturday night. Sat in the same building where I sat 18 years ago, thinkin' I was gonna die with morning sickness in the morning, morning sickness in the afternoon and morning sickness at night, while covering 15 hours of basketball per day for two weeks during March Madness.

Mouse was with me then, causing the morning sickness and sitting in my lap while I watched basketball, drank 7-Up and ate crackers.

On Saturday night, she was on the floor in her darling little dress, with a boy I had just met, as the lights flashed and the music played.

About the music, I'll say it was way better than the stuff she listens to her in her bedroom.

About the security, and the friendliness of the guys who let me in and answered my questions, I think it was terrific.

And if kids felt more comfortable going there in groups or in jeans than they would feel at their own school's prom, that's sad. But that's certainly not Morp's fault.

Eighteen years apart, same building. Weird in a time warp-Morp sort of way.

Went to Mass last night and left feeling sad.

One of my very favorite church hymns ever is a relatively new, in church years, one reserved especially for the presentation of gifts on Holy Thursday.

It's called, "We come to your table," I think, and it's a beautiful thing with powerful words and great music.

Several years ago, the procession was made up of many people -- all women, old, young, all kinds -- each taking a different food item up to the altar while that song was sung. It was one of the most emotional things I have ever seen at church.

The problem is, that hymn's not in the hymnal parishioners are provided, or at least I couldn't find it, and the vocalists didn't announce a number to invite us to join in.

So it was like being at a concert performance instead of being able to participate.

And then at the end of Mass, the most solemn part of the whole evening, the vocalists sang the Blessed Sacrament's hymn, "Pange lingua gloriosi" which should always, ALWAYS be sung in Latin, in ENGLISH.

My Latin teacher would have been as disappointed as I was.

Too sad.

Yesterday was a double tough day for Wyoming basketball fans.

I'm sad the Pokes couldn't beat CSU to get into the tournament and I'm sad the Cowgirls couldn't stay in the tournament and now may have lost an NCAA tournament bid.

But basketball is just a game. And tragedy is life-altering.

So the basketball losses are HUGE in ESPN-terms, but not in terms of lives lost and lives altered forever. That's tragedy.

And on a day when we woke to the news of an Evanston soldier losing his life in Iraq and the Cowgirls losing, it's easy to know what's tragedy and what's temporary.

May the souls of the faithful departed rest in peace.

So on Tuesday evening, the road was dry and the sun was out. Yes, the wind was blowing, but it was fine weather for driving.

Mouse is in the Caribbean, out of cell phone range. So off I went to visit the friend for no reason.

No gala event, no spectator event for Mouse, no must-appear. Just because.

We cooked pizza in the oven and watched not one, but two, movies.

There was no laundry to do, no lists to make, no closets I should have been cleaning.

We watched "Catch and Release," with Jennifer Garner, which was OK but not great. It did, however, have a happy ending and I cried.

Then, just minutes later, we watched "16 Blocks," with Bruce Willis. It was really, really great. Another happy ending, more tears.

Usually the friend doesn't like dirty cop movies, unless like in this one, the dirty cops get caught. He liked it and stayed awake.

We aren't ones to frequent movie theaters often. Lately, it's been less than occasionally.

And even watching a movie on TV from start to finish without interruption is a rarity. A double-feature is unheard of.

Is this what normal grownups do? If so, I think I could like it -- alot.

To celebrate finishing a project I honestly thought I could not complete, I cleaned the garage Saturday.

Had the tunes blaring, my work gloves on and I was rolling. Filled up the girl truck in no time flat, went to the dump and didn't have to wait very long at all.

And then I dropped a big slab of somethin' wood-like directly onto my big toe and I thought I was going to die, I'm not even kidding.

I did have a sock and shoe on, which is kind of shocking since it was 60 degrees and I've been in flip-flops for a week already.

But this piece of heavier than wood had a really sharp edge and I don't even know what happened, all I know is I can't wear a shoe and it hurts like crazy.

So here I am, in mismatched shoes, the right one kicked off under my desk. Just snazzy.

I watched the Pokes on TV Saturday, the Cowgirls yesterday and tonight I'll catch at least the end of the Rutgers-UConn women.

Wonder if I could actually watch at least one game a day in March? No, because there are those dead days between selection sunday and the tournament and I'm not watching the NBA.

OK, good, so there will be days to finish cleaning the garage. If I can just keep from injuring myself ...

The office chatter this morning is all about Jessica Brenton and Seth Harris's decision not to wrestle her in this morning's opening round at the state tournament.

Seth is getting all kinds of support from his coach. So Jessica wins 6 points for the Mustangs without stepping on the mat and advances.

The best Seth can hope for is 3rd.

An elegant woman in the office says she admires him for a "gentleman knowing how to treat a lady."

Jessica is a wrestler and she's a girl. She's from a wrestling family.

Rulemakers have said girls can wrestle. She's not busting any rules, just a lot of hearts when she outmaneuvers them on the mat.

One guy says he's watched her several times this season and the outcome's always the same.

"If they're not gonna wrestle her, she'll kick their a--," he said.

She must certainly hate this front-page attention when all she wants to do is wrestle.

You go, girl!

Spent a delightful three hours in Glenrock last evening at the Painted Past Productions dinner theatre performance of the murder mystery, "Death by Chocolate."

It was a fundraiser for the historical theater troupe's third visit to the troops in Europe set for fall 2008.

Dinner choices for the event at the Paisley Shawl were roasted sirloin, chicken marsala or fried shrimp.

The cast of four performed for just an hour, but didn't start until nearly an hour and a half after the dinner seating. There was no beverage service during the performance and the restrooms were also not accessible as the dining room entrance was used as part of the stage.

Neither of those was a major drawback, just things I noticed.

By the time a heavenly chocolate creation was served for dessert, it made for a 3-hour evening, long for a weeknight.

Other performances are set for the next two Tuesdays, Jan. 29 and Feb. 5, also at the Paisley Shawl.

Reservations are necessary. Call for pricing and reservations: 436-9212.

Sorry I haven't written for so long, but the home computer is broken and it's been tough to find the time to write at work.

Spent a wonderful New Year's Eve evening at the Paisley Shawl in Glenrock, where the friend and I enjoyed our SEVENTH consecutive New Year's Eve.

The menu was superb, as usual, and the ambience was perfect.  That ambience, of course, included plenty of Glenrockers in their jeans and boots, but they did take their baseball caps off for dinner.

And one made his attire particularly festive by crafting a bra made of two shells that were used to serve Escargot, as well as the Mardi Gras beads that were part of the party favors.

Of course, there were those in dressy clothes too, and of course, I was in that category.

Peggy Jane the Mom Christmas-gifted me with beads and sequins this year and I looked pretty good for an old woman.

It was so cold the friend chose a V-neck sweater -- the Packer one I bought him several years ago for Christmas -- and that earned him some undeserved grief from his buddies at the bar.

But as he said, they're still playing and his team's not.

Time for a nap.

Be safe and be happy.

Apparently our home computer had a major crash of some sort, so postings will have to come from the office, and there are piles of work waiting.....

This comes from our good friend Stan Lowe, who is the best advocate any kind of patriotic person could ever have.

He sends it with his best wishes, and I add mine.

Hope your holiday is joyous, blessed, fun, and more than anything you could have possibly imagined!

A DIFFERENT CHRISTMAS POEM

The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.

Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.
The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.

My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.

The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,
But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.
Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know,

Then the sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.

My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door just to see who was near.
Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.

A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,
Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.

'What are you doing?' I asked without fear,
'Come in this moment, it's freezing out here!
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!'

For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts..
To the window that danced with a warm fire's light
Then he sighed and he said 'Its really all right,

'I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night.'
'It's my duty to stand at the front of the line,
That separates you from the darkest of times.

No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me.
My Gramps died at ' Pearl on a day in December,'
Then he sighed, 'That's a Christmas 'Gram always remembers.'

My dad stood his watch in the jungles of ' Nam ',
And now it is my turn and so, here I am.
I've not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile.

Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The red, white, and blue... an American flag.
I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home.

I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.
I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life with my sister and brother..

Who stand at the front against any and all,
To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall.'
'So go back inside,' he said, 'harbor no fright,
Your family is waiting and I'll be all right.'

'But isn't there something I can do, at the least,
'Give you money,' I asked, 'or prepare you a feast?
It seems all too little for all that you've done,
For being away from your wife and your son.'

Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,
'Just tell us you love us, and never forget.
To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone,
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.

For when we come home, either standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled.
Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us.'

LCDR Jeff Giles , SC, USN
30t h Naval Construction Regiment
OIC, Logistics Cell One
Al Taqqadum , Iraq

Went to the post office this morning with four items -- one wrapped and three in "goodie tins."

Once there, I set them on the floor on the retail side while I chose three squishy-lined envelopes in which they would fit and three coordinating stick-on address labels.

Then I moved over to the counter where the line forms and proceeded to stuff each envelope, write each label and put the packages together, saving the bar codes from the address labels so I could pay for them.

This is how I mail. I do not save brown cardboard boxes all year. I do not wrap them and tape them and wrap them again.

Thank God for the USPS and its "wrap and ship" retail option.

Then the guy behind the counter wanted to know if they were "fragile" or liquid.

Nope, I said, just my homemade fudge and cookies.

And he said, "well, we'll have to inspect them for quailty control."

And then the guys standing in line chimed in, ordering their own goodies.

Less than $30 and 15 minutes later, the packages to Wisconsin and Nebraska are on their way, priority.

Piece of cake -- er, fudge.

So on the busiest day of the week, it started with 7 furry-Santa hat-wearing kids arriving in the atrium with a plate of cookies.

They were from Woods Learning Center and were here to sing to me (and give me homemade cookies). They sang three Christmas carols and then were off, as part of their "Cookies & Caroling" fundraiser to make money for their spring trip to New York and Washington, D.C.

The cookies were gone in a flash and the songs didn't take much time either, but the memory is a sweet one that will linger.

Thanks, Woods! You made Sal's day.

So the house was all Christmasy, the candles were lit, the music was on and the chili was in the crockpot -- and I wanted to go out.

So out we went, the friend behind the wheel of the big truck so Mouse could take the 4-wheel drive girl truck.

And at 1281 Kelly Dr., three houses from 12th Street smack dab in front of Kelly Walsh High School, the Christmas lights are spectacular.

You have to pull up, turn your radio to the frequency on the sign in the front yard, and you will be amazed.

Even the friend, who tends to the humbug and does not amaze easily, didn't want to leave.

I'm no engineer but it's remarkable. I prefer to think of it as magic or serendipity or signs of the season and not think about what might be causing all of the lights to flash and dazzle in time with the music.

They are incredible and a gift to the community. Where are your favorite lights?

On the way home, I requested as usual that we cruise down 2nd Street so we could see the lights in Conwell Park. In the past, I've insisted that we walk hand-in-hand through the park, but this night, I was completely satisfied to stay in the cozy truck. And it was the friend who insisted on going 'round the block, for another look, amazed at one spectacular tree in particular.

Here's hoping your week is dazzling.

So it's less than 24 hours now before the Packers-Cowboys begins on the NFL Network.

Countless people have asked where I'll be tomorrow night and I've told them all I'll be in the basement. But actually, I might be upstairs, because that's where Christmas is.

Mouse will eventually have time to put together the tree downstairs, but right now it's devoid of Christmas and I feel a need for the spirit.

The friend's friends have been calllng because in Glenrock, it's not whether or not they want to PAY for the NFL Network, they CAN'T GET the NFL Network.

I, of course, shouldn't pay for the NFL Network, but there are luxuries and then there are necessities and well ---

Peggy Jane the Mom drove to Allen Park this week -- by herself -- in her easyglide spaceship for a funeral and said folks in the UP (upper peninsula) -- loyal Packers fans all -- were absolutely livid about not being able to see the game.

I read this afternoon that at least one UP station "has been given permission" to carry the game. Duh!

I know nothing about business nor anti-trust, but get a bunch of Packers fans who can't watch their beloveds and what  the business types will get is a whole bunch of trouble.

Just one more quick football note -- did anyone else think Steve Young's assessment of Monday night's game was absolutely ridiculous?

Sure, the field conditions were precedent-setting bad, but it's football, not ballet. He said neither team could "execute their offense." Well, since when is that some sort of requirement?

Personally -- no surprise here -- I thought the four quarters of sloppin' around tied 0-0 "in the 54th minute" as awesome Mike Tirico said, was about the greatest thing I've seen in awhile.

Note to Steve "BYU" Young -- it doesn't have to be 48-47 to be a good football game. Double duh.

Here are on our new site, trib.com. Yes, there are bugs, but they are all going to be fixed eventually.

The other night, I made potato soup from scratch for the first time. Peeled and chopped three potatoes. While they were boiling, I browned two fully-cooked polish sausages because I didn't have any bacon.

Then I added 2 cups milk to the drained potatoes, chopped the sausage up and seasoned with salt, pepper and onion salt.

I shredded just a bit of cheddar cheese that I had and garnished the soup with that and some seasoned salad croutons. Not bad for a quick, after-work hearty supper.

Please respond  if you find this -- either to comments at the bottom or via email to sally.shurmur@trib.com.

Have a great Thursday!