Marion Mudge typed her own name into Google on Wednesday. In a fraction of a second, the search engine came up with 370,000 references.

The self-effacing Tisbury town clerk has become a big name in the news. Media in Detroit, Seattle, Tampa Bay, Eugene, Oregon, not to mention some specialty publications including a wine magazine, from all over the country, have featured her.

Well, not her personally, so much as the event in which she has become a major player: the remarkable, 690-all tied result of the town referendum on whether restaurants should be able to sell beer and wine with meals.

For some reason the equivocal views of 1,400 Tisbury residents on alcohol sales are deemed newsworthy in places thousands of miles away among people who will probably never raise a glass here. Apparently, editors across the country find something odd in the fact that the democratic process should yield such a result.

In some cases, they clearly thought it more than odd. MSNBC carried the story, under the category of “Weird News.”

On Ms. Mudge’s desk is a cutting from a the Naples (Florida, not Italy) Daily News, with a little note attached. “Hope I can still get a beer at State Road,” says the note. Her house is on State Road.

The acquaintance — she is not quite sure who it is — should know better. You can hardly ever get a beer at her place, for she hardly ever drinks.

Ironic, isn’t it? Whatever the final outcome of the vote, when the ballots are recounted later today, it will affect her life not one bit. The process, though, has affected her life considerably. It has made things very hectic for the past couple of weeks.

And the media interest has been the least of it. Fortunately, very few of the news outlets which ran the story contacted her themselves to get the facts. Almost all relied on a single, identical Associated Press report.

She’s thankful for that. Otherwise, she said, “I would have got nothing done.”

And there has been plenty to do. Fielding the legitimate questions from the representatives of both the “yes” and “no” sides. Allaying the concerns of those people who thought the tied result meant they would have to vote again. Listening to all those who now regret that they did not turn out on polling day to record their view.

A less tactful person might tartly point out that in a democracy, decisions are made by those who bother to turn up. A less good-natured person might note that it might have saved her a great deal of work.

Then there is the matter of explaining to all parties the mechanics of recounting the tied vote.

For the record, here are the facts again. On election day 1,401 people turned out. On the question of beer and wine sales, the vote split 690 in favor and 690 against, with another

21 ballot papers recorded as blanks on the machine count. As things currently stand, the tie means restaurants cannot sell alcohol.

There was also a second contentious result. The incumbent selectman, Thomas Pachico lost to a challenger, Jeff Kristal, by 14 votes. Forty-seven ballots were machine counted as blanks.

Both those supporting beer and wine sales and supporting Mr. Pachico then lodged petitions calling for a recount.

And so, beginning at 2 p.m. today, in the Katharine Cornell Theatre above Ms. Mudge’s office, a large cast of characters will assemble to manually recount the votes to see if the results stand.

Six people will actually do the recounting. They will be divided into three teams of two, one reading the ballots and the other recording the results. The counting will be overseen by observers representing both sides of the beer and wine issue, and when it comes time to recount the selectman’s contest, Mr. Pachico and Mr. Kristal will be there.

If the appointed observers question the interpretation of a particular ballot marking, it will be referred to a four-member board of registrars for a determination.

And if the registrars are evenly split on their interpretation, the original counter will make the determination. If the observers still object, the relevant ballot will be set aside in a sealed envelope, pending possible court action. But it will still be recorded in the total.

As well as all the counters, registrars and partisan observers, a constable and a representative of town counsel, Lauren Goldberg, an election law specialist from Koppelberg and Paige, will be in attendance.

The varied evidence of Ms. Mudge’s preparation is scattered around her office. There’s a seating plan for the large cast of personnel who will attend. There are printed guides for the counters, showing what is considered a valid vote and what is not.

There are several large envelopes in which contested ballots will travel the short distance from the counters to the registrars, and seals for the envelopes, should the disputes remain unresolved.

There are “block tally sheets” on which the votes will be recorded. And, central to it all, there is what she rather grandly calls a “ballot transfer case” (actually a large black suitcase, such as one might see on any airport baggage carousel), in which the actual ballots are stashed, which resides in her office vault (which is actually an old fireplace, with a bricked-in flue and a heavy door installed).

Finally, there is a supply of candies and bottled water, to sustain the counters through their task.

All is in readiness. And, assuming it goes to plan, we should know the final results of the beer and wine ballot sometime after 3 p.m. and the selectman’s ballot before 5.