With all the attention to polls and pundits going around, sometimes it’s truly hard to gauge the wind. But I’m thinking all is not lost.

Last Saturday, I took my wife up to Amish country in PA. She’s Russian, and was interested in taking a wee excursion northward to see the sights (and maybe pick up some fresh produce and pastries).

We live in northern VA, so it took us about 3 hours for the trip. Bounced up via RT 15, through York and Lancaster areas, and spent most of the day in and around Bird In Hand and Intercourse (formerly known as Cross Keys, where the film Witness was filmed).

The point? Why, pastries, of course…oh, you mean the anecdotal stuff. Yes, well. Hmmph.

At the start, naturally lots of Obama garbage. Almost a virus, here in Northern VA. Really need some meds or something.

But as the journey progressed, more and more McCain/Palin. More and more and more. After a while, an Obama sign or sticker became harder and harder to find. And the sun shone, and I smiled.

McCain/Palin. Big ones, little ones, middle sized ones, everywhere and on just about any kind of surface. The Obama stuff seemed forlorn; lonely voices of Socialism in a land populated with real, working Americans who vote.

The few persons I saw in yards that possessed Obama signs looked…well…downright sheepish (as in “ashamed”, although they probably have sheep-like tendencies as well).

And this in a part of PA that is not too far from the People’s Republic of Maryland.

So, a bit of cheer, my dear lads and lasses! On November 4th, America will speak its mind. And while it’s only anecdotal, it seems to me that the real America is not the one being polled. The polls are only recording the loud, obnoxious voices of the hysterical left.

The rest of us have jobs to do, and are too busy to whine and whimper to pollsters. You’ll hear from us soon.

What’s that? My wife? No, unfortunately she can’t vote yet, but I wish she could. She’s a solid McCain/Palin supporter, like us. She thinks Sarah Palin is awesome (which she is). My wife grew up in the Soviet system, and she can smell one of those Socialist nasties a mile away.

One of them came to the door on Sunday, with a big old Obama pin on her shirt. My wife sent her packing, leaving the Obamunist with no doubt where our sympathies lay.

Experience really is a teacher.

Hmmm? Oh, yes, the pastries. Of course I helped eat them. It was my husbandly duty.