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At The Greater Piney Grove Baptist Church in Atlanta, about 700 congregants jam the pews every Sunday morning at 10:30am. The church is near the edge of DeKalb County, and it's helping lead a "Souls to the Polls" drive.

In Georgia, Democrat Michelle Nunn is running an extremely tight race for Senate against Republican David Perdue, and the difference between victory and defeat could ride on the African-American vote. The push is on to get voters to turn out early – especially at black churches right after Sunday services.

This year, for the first time in Georgia's history, some polling places are open on Sundays. This Sunday - DeKalb County's first Sunday voting - Pastor William Flippin, Sr. urged his congregation to head straight to the polls right after service.

"I don't know if you have voted already, but please know that it is your civic responsibility," Flippin said. "People died for us to have the right to vote."

Democrats are trying feverishly to avoid what happened in 2010. That year there was abysmally low turnout among black voters, which happens often in midterm years. Core supporters for Democrats – like minorities, single women or young people – tend to drop off during the midterms.

In Georgia, more than one million African-Americans voted in the presidential elections of 2008 and 2012, but only 700,000 hit the polls in 2010. Democrats aren't taking their chances this year.

The Piney Grove church is in an area that's 55% African-American, and therefore one part of Georgia that could help Nunn win a Senate seat this November. That's if people turn out to vote.

Former First Lady Rosalynn Carter also joined the congregation yesterday to help rally churchgoers to the polls and work to "help make Martin Luther King's dream become a reality in our state."

"We can do it, if we all work together, if we all go to vote, if we can be sure that all of our friends and relatives and neighbors go to vote, and vote early," Carter said.

Sunday voting caused some controversy in Georgia. Republicans grumbled about how it gave Democrats a boost. But Flippin says it's only fair that black voters get a chance on Sundays to mobilize.

"Many of our people still do not have professional jobs that they can take off or go into work late. You know, most corporations — they allow you to come late or come early on Election Day. Well, if you're working in a factory or job like that, they can't take off," says Flippin.

Piney Grove worshippers loaded up on two church buses, and with a caravan of cars following, drove to the voter registration and elections office in Decatur to vote.

On the bus, Evelyn Jackson of nearby Ellenwood said she's voting this midterm because something has to be done about the rampant joblessness. Georgia has the highest unemployment rate in the country, and Jackson says you can't trust a Republican to fix that.

"Republicans ... they care about money, and they care about people in their echelon. And they don't care about people who are lower middle class or poor," said Jackson. "I know people, there's one of the ministers, who's been out of work for, like, three years."

When the buses arrive at the polling place, a stream of other worshippers from other black churches converges with Piney Grove.

Thirty percent of all registered voters in the state are African-American. Allen Davis, a nurse, wishes more black Georgians actually knew that.

"I think if they know how powerful their vote is, they'll come out and vote," says Davis.

One potential stumbling block to getting more African-Americans out to vote is that most Democrats have spent this fall distancing themselves from a president so many black voters admire. But Darryl Yarber says he understands the practicality of that strategy.

"African-Americans are a little bit more savvy than that. They know what's going on. They know the reasons for the distancing. That's a reason we have such a crowd right now," said Yarber. "They understand what's going on. They understand the game."

And Yarber says electing a Democrat who will barely acknowledge President Obama is still better than letting the other side win.

Republicans are trying to make inroads with African-Americans in the Deep South, who have voted overwhelmingly Democrat since the civil rights era. In Alabama, the GOP is fielding more black candidates this cycle than ever before. One of them is Darius Foster, who gained national attention with this viral video challenging racial and political expectations:

YouTube

In the video, a diverse group of men and women mouth the candidate's introduction: "Did you know while growing up we went half the winter without heat, or that I think best while listening to Frank Sinatra? The last concert I attended was Lil Wayne. Yes, Lil Wayne." It ends, "Do I really fit in a box? See you on the campaign trail."

Foster says he needs no reminder that he stands out. "With me, unfortunately, everything is black Republican. Not Darius did this, but the black Republican did that. So, you know."

With the bulky frame of a former linebacker and a warm, hearty laugh, Foster fashions himself as a Lincoln or Teddy Roosevelt Republican.

"The fight-for-the-people Republican. That's what they were. I'm not sure where the Democratic Party was able to hijack that narrative from us. But they did. And they have it. I'm trying to bring it back," he says.

Foster is a 33-year-old business consultant. He's been active in the GOP since he founded a lonely chapter of College Republicans at the historically black Miles College in Birmingham. He's been tapped by the Republican National Committee as a future leader.

Foster was raised by his grandmother, who forced him to vote a straight Democratic ticket the first time she took him to the polls. He says he went home and looked up political parties in the family's Encyclopaedia Britannica.

"I read through and went through all of them, I got to the Republican Party and I was just reading through the principles. My grandmother hates taxes. She doesn't do gay marriage," he says. "She's always taking about defending yourself and strong defense. And I said, 'Mom — you may be a Republican.' And she looked at me and walked off."

She's still a Democrat but has endorsed her grandson in his race for a state House seat representing part of suburban Birmingham. It includes the predominantly black city of Bessemer, where Foster spends a lot of time going door to door introducing himself.

Democrats have long represented this Alabama House district, which is about two-thirds African-American, giving his opponent, Louise Alexander, the advantage.

Foster knows he's up against some strong notions about the Republican Party. "I think they hear Republican they think of white men. And people who don't care about them and ... who don't understand them," he says.

What he calls "TV Republicans" — conservative pundits — are a thorn in his side, Foster says. And some of his fellow Alabamians haven't helped. Like the Republican state senator who referred to blacks as aborigines, or the congressman who declared that there was a war on whites.

Foster says he doesn't have to defend Republican principles — only Republicans. Especially those who are hostile to President Obama, who got 95 percent of the black vote in Alabama two years ago.

"And it's not saying that I agree with President Obama. I'm just saying that I can show somebody and talk to them about what it means to be a Republican and not mention President Obama's name at all. This is what being a Republican is. This is what being a conservative is," he says.

Over breakfast at their neighborhood IHOP, his wife, 28-year-old Setara Foster, a lawyer, talks about growing up black in Houston where her parents were union members and loyal Democrats.

She now identifies more closely with the GOP. But she says she tends to split her ticket.

"I think that when we as a group identify with one party, for one thing, all the time, that party never has to earn our vote. Ever. And so I think that by having a diversity of political ideology within ethnic, racial, gender, age groups, we force politicians to work," she says.

On the campaign trail, you won't hear Foster talk about Republicans or Democrats. Instead, he talks about how he's invested some of his campaign funds in community initiatives — technology for schools, shoes for a basketball team, hosting a local job fair.

The strategy has won some converts like Juanita Graham. "When this gentleman came along, I was a die-hard Democrat," she says. Graham owns a firm that offers inner-city students enhanced engineering and math courses. She first met Foster while she was working for his Democratic opponent.

"There were some preconceived notions; I will not lie. Because when you say Republican African-American, the first thing pops in most African-American minds is Uncle Tom, butt-kisser. I'm honest. That is the mindset," she says.

But when Foster helped her with startup funds, and talked about tackling Bessemer's low high school graduation rate, he earned her vote.

Graham says she's still a Democrat, though. And that's the real challenge for Foster and Republican leaders who hope to position the party for the future.

Republicans are trying to make inroads with African-Americans in the Deep South, who have voted overwhelmingly Democrat since the civil rights era. In Alabama, the GOP is fielding more black candidates this cycle than ever before. One of them is Darius Foster, who gained national attention with this viral video challenging racial and political expectations:

YouTube

In the video, a diverse group of men and women mouth the candidate's introduction: "Did you know while growing up we went half the winter without heat, or that I think best while listening to Frank Sinatra? The last concert I attended was Lil Wayne. Yes, Lil Wayne." It ends, "Do I really fit in a box? See you on the campaign trail."

Foster says he needs no reminder that he stands out. "With me, unfortunately, everything is black Republican. Not Darius did this, but the black Republican did that. So, you know."

With the bulky frame of a former linebacker and a warm, hearty laugh, Foster fashions himself as a Lincoln or Teddy Roosevelt Republican.

"The fight-for-the-people Republican. That's what they were. I'm not sure where the Democratic Party was able to hijack that narrative from us. But they did. And they have it. I'm trying to bring it back," he says.

Foster is a 33-year-old business consultant. He's been active in the GOP since he founded a lonely chapter of College Republicans at the historically black Miles College in Birmingham. He's been tapped by the Republican National Committee as a future leader.

Foster was raised by his grandmother, who forced him to vote a straight Democratic ticket the first time she took him to the polls. He says he went home and looked up political parties in the family's Encyclopaedia Britannica.

"I read through and went through all of them, I got to the Republican Party and I was just reading through the principles. My grandmother hates taxes. She doesn't do gay marriage," he says. "She's always taking about defending yourself and strong defense. And I said, 'Mom — you may be a Republican.' And she looked at me and walked off."

She's still a Democrat but has endorsed her grandson in his race for a state House seat representing part of suburban Birmingham. It includes the predominantly black city of Bessemer, where Foster spends a lot of time going door to door introducing himself.

Democrats have long represented this Alabama House district, which is about two-thirds African-American, giving his opponent, Louise Alexander, the advantage.

Foster knows he's up against some strong notions about the Republican Party. "I think they hear Republican they think of white men. And people who don't care about them and ... who don't understand them," he says.

What he calls "TV Republicans" — conservative pundits — are a thorn in his side, Foster says. And some of his fellow Alabamians haven't helped. Like the Republican state senator who referred to blacks as aborigines, or the congressman who declared that there was a war on whites.

Foster says he doesn't have to defend Republican principles — only Republicans. Especially those who are hostile to President Obama, who got 95 percent of the black vote in Alabama two years ago.

"And it's not saying that I agree with President Obama. I'm just saying that I can show somebody and talk to them about what it means to be a Republican and not mention President Obama's name at all. This is what being a Republican is. This is what being a conservative is," he says.

Over breakfast at their neighborhood IHOP, his wife, 28-year-old Setara Foster, a lawyer, talks about growing up black in Houston where her parents were union members and loyal Democrats.

She now identifies more closely with the GOP. But she says she tends to split her ticket.

"I think that when we as a group identify with one party, for one thing, all the time, that party never has to earn our vote. Ever. And so I think that by having a diversity of political ideology within ethnic, racial, gender, age groups, we force politicians to work," she says.

On the campaign trail, you won't hear Foster talk about Republicans or Democrats. Instead, he talks about how he's invested some of his campaign funds in community initiatives — technology for schools, shoes for a basketball team, hosting a local job fair.

The strategy has won some converts like Juanita Graham. "When this gentleman came along, I was a die-hard Democrat," she says. Graham owns a firm that offers inner-city students enhanced engineering and math courses. She first met Foster while she was working for his Democratic opponent.

"There were some preconceived notions; I will not lie. Because when you say Republican African-American, the first thing pops in most African-American minds is Uncle Tom, butt-kisser. I'm honest. That is the mindset," she says.

But when Foster helped her with startup funds, and talked about tackling Bessemer's low high school graduation rate, he earned her vote.

Graham says she's still a Democrat, though. And that's the real challenge for Foster and Republican leaders who hope to position the party for the future.

Fondue sets, ice cream makers and juicers. Fun kitchen gadgets to have, but frankly, who has the cash or counter space? The Kitchen Library understands, so it just rents out those appliances.

We're talking four-day access to myriad cool kitchen contraptions. In addition to the aforementioned gadgets, the library is also home to a chocolate fountain, a creme brulee set, hand mixers and slow cookers. There are more than 100 items in the inventory.

The Toronto-based nonprofit startup was created by 30-year-old Dayna Boyer, a Canadian foodie who was frustrated with her small kitchen. "As someone who loves to cook and lives in a tiny apartment in Toronto, I definitely didn't have space for the appliances I wanted," she says.

"I admit I started The Kitchen Library because of a juicer. I couldn't justify spending $300 on one," she wrote on her blog.

Boyer, who has worked in marketing and Web journalism, had been looking for a new challenge and was inspired by her work with the Toronto Tool Library, a business that loans out wrenches and power drills. She began thinking about how kitchen rentals might be similarly popular.

After putting out a call for equipment donations, Boyer was surprised by how much was handed in. "There's definitely no shortage of people willing to part with unused or underused items," she said.

The Kitchen Library is open four days a week to anyone over 18. For an annual fee of $50, users get three to five days (depending on the item) to use their chosen tools and return them washed and ready to re-lend. It's your basic library system, with a dose of washing-up liquid.

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So far every item has been returned clean, but a few items have been broken. Boyer utilizes the Tool Library's resources to mend them.

And just like a book library, there are penalties for lateness. For those who are tardy returning their gadgets, late fees apply: $1 to $2 for most items and $5 for premium appliances.

With the change in season comes people's changing preferences for products. Canners are most popular in the fall, and warm and comforting carb makers — like bread machines and pasta makers — are big hits in the winter.

Some of Boyer's peers in the household world aren't such big fans, arguing that the presence of appliances is crucial for a stable kitchen. "I think it's a bad idea from a design standpoint because everything in the kitchen is designed around the appliances," said Vince Felicitta, the owner of Brown Felicitta Design. "You can't design properly if the appliances are constantly changing."

Members of The Kitchen Library are willing to cope with a changing kitchen set-up. They share two unifying characteristics: they love food, and they usually live in a small space. Boyer wouldn't share details about member numbers, but the library — which began inside the Tool Library's space — is moving to a new location and will start offering monthly memberships.

Boyer says the main idea is for people to take control of what they're eating. "There's a whole revolution happening around home cooking and being in charge of what goes into your food," Boyer said.

It still boils down to cooks making the best choices — opting for the slow cooker over the chocolate fountain. But with a kitchen library, at least more options are available.

Toronto