While we breathe, we hope.

Memories from Election Day 2008 ...

I woke up early and excited and headed to the polls around 8 a.m. I only waited about 5 minutes, and I stood there with actual butterflies fluttering in my stomach. I cast my vote proudly and with a catch in my throat. I headed to the gym, where I ran 3.5 miles and watched election coverage on MSNBC, hearing Dan Rather talk about having covered the Civil Rights Movement and never thinking he would live long enough to see this happen, saying how honored and proud he was to be a part of this day. This was only 9 a.m., and there was already a sense of knowing how the night would end. At some point yesterday morning I chatted online with AB Chao and we discussed being blue dots in our red state and possibly needing to be medicated before the day was over. My cat sat in the window and pondered it all.

It was a beautiful sunny day. I went to the library and to Starbucks for my free Thanksgiving blend coffee, thought about how proud I was of my sister for her Election Day activities in VA, and I met B. for lunch. We split a bowl of shrimp & corn soup; he had a salad and I had a turkey burger. We talked election, election, election. It is hard to believe that we first met just after Bush won reelection in 2004.

I thought about some of my feelings before his reelection and since that time. How the weekend after that election I convened with friends to lie around our pajamas and eat our way through our bitter disappointment. And how that disappointment never really waned. How in April of last year I was starting to freak about yesterday's election in a big way. And how intensely I believed in Obama once it became clear to me that he was the guy. And how moved I was by his speech on race. And that day when those men were hateful about my Obama shirt in the coffee shop. All of these thoughts and memories were converging in my head and heart yesterday and I thought about how very sad I was when Bush was reelected and how that sadness would be magnified by about ten billion if Obama should lose.

I reluctantly headed to my evening class, during which I hid my cell phone behind my purse and hit refresh on news sites for the entire class period. I heard not one word the professor uttered. I got texts from Elizabeth and my future brother-in-law that Obama won Pennsylvania and I could hardly sit still in my seat. I scrawled that message in ecstatic letters on the notebook of my classmate sitting in the seat beside me. She smiled. It was so hard to sit there and not start freaking out.

I ran out of class upon dismissal as fast as my legs could carry me and headed home to watch returns with my laptop, chatting on Facebook with Amy and others and marveling at CNN's weird hologram graphics and creating an entire conspiracy theory about Chris Matthews hating Keith Olbermann but honestly I was in some sort of spaced out dissociative zone by this point because before I knew it Obama had won Ohio and I started to believe this was really going to happen and I don't remember much but eating cheese grits & an apple smeared with peanut butter and how Marley was lying on the couch cushion behind my head with her feet entangled in my hair. I found it strangely comforting. B. showed up from his classmate's election party and we sat there and watched it unfold until the minutes approached when the West Coast polls would close. "45 seconds," I said, watching the countdown, and the next thing I knew he was on his feet leaping in the air about to take down the ceiling fan because it was being called and then I was on mine and there was laughing and embracing and crying. I talked briefly to a co-worker who called during McCain's concession speech to say while laughing somewhat hysterically, "I KNOW they did not just boo the new president!" and then I sat there with my jaw dropped watching Roland Martin crying and Jesse Jackson crying and Oprah crying and the Spelman student who had fallen to her knees and the crowds euphorically cheering, waiting for Obama to finally come out.

And then he did, and I cried some more, loudly and proudly, and I was struck deep in my heart by the beauty of that man and his family and his words, and I will never forget for the rest of my life what last night felt like as he spoke and as I saw him kiss his daughters and his wife. "I will never forget this," I thought over and over, "I will never forget this, I will never forget this, I will never forget this."

I still feel it today, watching slideshows of reactions of joyful people around the country and world. I bonded with the cashier, grocery bagger, and a fellow shopper at the grocery store on the way to work where I was buying celebratory cookies and she was buying celebratory cakes. I passed an Obama/Biden sign in a yard with a handwritten sign beside it that said "Thank you America, I love you" that made me cry some more and I hung out of my car window to take a picture.

This morning I loved hearing the beautiful, radiant Toni Morrison saying that it's not just that he is a black man -- though that fact in and of itself has an enormity and a weight and a significance that I know means something to black people that I will never pretend to understand as a white person -- it is that, but it is also that he is THIS black man -- and I loved seeing, when Diane Sawyer told her that he said one of the highlights of his campaign was meeting Toni Morrison and seeing that she was just as he expected her to be, Toni Morrison's face break wide open with light and love and joy before she said, "He's another writer," as in, see, he is a writer and so much more, he is like me in that way, and he is like all of us.

I know he is not a magician or a god or a savior. I know that it's not going to be smooth-sailing bliss and perfection in this country from now on. (As my heart soars, it is also broken due to yesterday's passages of anti-gay marriage and anti-gay adoption laws; I keep trying to tell myself that the fight is not over in this regard but it still baffles me, angers me, and hurts me deep in my soul.) I just think he's a brilliant, good man who wants to serve his country well, make his wife and daughters proud, and make us all proud of ourselves and our country again. Maybe that's naive and simpleminded; today I just do not care. Today I celebrate and give thanks with all of my heart.

Week 4, Run 1 ~ Election Day

I spent the morning of Election Day voting and hitting the gym for a 3.5-mile run. The run felt eternal, but it was okay because I was glued to MSNBC and running for hope, change, victory, and all that jazz. I honestly will miss the election coverage when all is said and done. What will I watch on the gym TV if not the pundits?

Speaking of pundits, I was sort of dismayed to see Dan Rather among the random MSNBC pundits this morning. I mean, he is Dan Rather. I don't really know or care what happened to cause his fall from grace, and I wonder if he sits there thinking, "What the hell am I doing with this bunch of clowns?" He spoke eloquently and with great dignity about covering the Civil Rights Movement and how he never thought this would happen in his lifetime and how pleased and honored he is to be witnessing this and to be a part of this day of all days. Somehow my calves stopped hurting and I felt light and free as I thought about that and thought about what we are going to be celebrating (I hope) tonight.

I guess I could come up with some metaphor about this election -- this race -- and the race for which I am training, but that would be too cheesy even for me.

(This entry was moved over from a separate running blog.)

Catching up

The time came when it was time to leave Hawaii. It was a sad day indeed. I took a two-mile walk around S.'s neighborhood while she went to teach class, and we went out to lunch and for coffee. Then she took me to the airport for my overnight flight. I'll tell you how it was. Depressing. On the flight home, I basically broke my neck and could not move it for several days. I tried to order coffee at the airport Starbucks during my Houston layover, but I was so deliriously sleep-deprived that I just shook my head sadly at the barista when I got to the counter and walked away in a haze.

It was a weird adjustment being home. Being back to work and school instead of on vacation. The time change was crazily life-wrecking in a way that has really surprised me. And mostly I just miss my wonderful friend more than I can ever say.

Now I'm settled back at home, fearing emotional aneurysms daily relative to the election. My nerves are totally shot. I start weeping when I contemplate a certain outcome. My sister came into town, and she and B. and I did a little phone banking, which was a good experience. I've also started training for a half-marathon, which Erin and I are writing about over here.

Yesterday my sister and I went to a football game. It was fun. My shins hurt. I'll miss Mad Men after the season ends tonight. That's really all I can think of to say right now.

Catching up

Having an iced coffee before my little brother and I head out to see the Rent film. I am looking forward to it, though I'm not sure what to expect. We had to design TV channels in my 9th grade mass media class, and mine was a Broadway channel -- all shows, all the time, sort of a pay-per-view situation. I thought it was a swell idea at age 13, and I remember one obnoxious boy saying during the class critique that it wouldn't be the same as being in the theater. Well, duh. I just hope the Rent film (filmed on stage) is not too much like a music video. That frightens me.

It is so beautiful outside it's hard not to be in a decent mood these days. On Friday evening, B. and I ordered a chicken pesto pizza and settled in to watch the first presidential debate. We yelled at the TV a lot and applauded a lot. What I keep thinking about is how at least Obama attempted to look at and address McCain directly sometimes while McCain never did once, at least not that I noticed. And I wonder if that was intentional strategy -- McCain's way of saying Obama isn't worth his attention because "HE JUST DOESN'T GET IT" -- or just McCain being a wuss. I haven't watched much debate commentary because I saw a McCain advisor triumphantly concluding right after the debate that Obama is out of touch with mainstream America and I thought I was going to go blind. I just get too emotional. That said, I can't wait for Thursday's vice presidential debate, during which my friend predicts Palin will be a "hot mess all over the screen!"

Yesterday is kind of a blur ... I did homework and watched the highlights of the first season of The Rosie O'Donnell Show. Oh, I got a new roof! I got a new roof on Friday. Which I love, although I stepped on two giant roofing nails this morning in my front yard and luckily I had on thick-soled sneakers and the nails went between my toes instead of into my foot. I am going to call the roofer tomorrow and see if he can send someone back out with the magnet broom.

Last night, we ate dinner outside on a restaurant patio (miso soup, sushi rolls, and a macadamia nut chicken salad) and went to see Burn Before Reading. I both liked and didn't like it. It was worth seeing for Brad Pitt alone.

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(Later in the day ...) My brother and I just got back from the Rent film. WOW! Talk about exceeding all expectations. I thought that Roger was a little too pretty. That said, most of the cast knocked my socks off both vocally and acting-wise. The standout, far and away, was Renee Elise Goldsberry as Mimi. Which surprised me because I always mistakenly thought she was sort of a bland presence based on my limited viewings of her on One Life to Live. I could not have been more wrong about her. Not only was her singing voice fantastic, she completely looked the part from head to toe and acted circles around everyone else on stage. Not that the other actors weren't good because some of them definitely were -- but she was on a whole different level. She really impressed me and I'm so glad I got to see her performing this character. The other standouts for me were Michael McElroy as Collins and Justin Johnston as Angel. They were so wonderful in "I'll Cover You" that they made me not even miss Jesse L. Martin and Wilson Jermaine Heredia. Of course, they'll always be those characters in my heart, but the ones I saw today brought the same kind of beautiful performances and chemistry to that pair. Impressive, I am telling you. IMPRESSIVE. Michael McElroy's voice=beautiful. Of course, nothing beats seeing theater live, but this was a real treat, and I am so glad we went.

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Last night before Burn After Reading, of course there were trailers. The only one that made me sit up and pay attention was the one for Milk. I accidentally caught The Times of Harvey Milk (Oscar-winning documentary) on PBS several years ago, and it has stayed with me. I am really looking forward to seeing Milk (or as much as I can look forward to something that I am sure will ultimately be devastating.) If nothing else, I think it's an important story of an important life that more people need to hear. The documentary is definitely worth seeing, and it's available from Netflix and in 10 parts on YouTube.

And now I am going to eat the tofu pepper stir fry I just made, wash stinky towels that were trapped in a bathroom cabinet whose ceiling was molding unbeknownst to me, and prepare to face the week ahead.

Lunch break

Having an iced coffee for lunch in order to use coffee shop's wireless, which I still don't have at home. Damn you, Gustav! I just hope it comes back before this weekend because cable TV's still not working either and I need to see Mad Men win a lot of Emmys on Sunday night.

First of all, thanks for your encouraging comments on my last post. They mean a lot to me.

I feel like I'd like to say a few more things. I just want to be clear that I don't think all McCain supporters are evil meanies. My parents, for example, are people I love and respect beyond measure. They have their own personal reasons for believing what they do, and they are not hateful about it. I really do respect that we all have our own personal reasons for supporting the candidates we do, and I don't paint all McCain supporters or Republicans with a big, barfy brush. The men in the coffee shop = assholes. All McCain supporters = not assholes. I understand this and just want to make sure I state it explicitly.

Later that day, I went to a baby shower where I had a nice conversation with an engineering professor about the situation, and it was nice to touch base with someone on the same page as I am. Still later, I was at the gas pump and a woman complimented me on my Obama shirt, and we had a nice chat. It was a nice way to balance out the ugliness of the morning's encounter.

Two of my heroes have written about this lately: Eve Ensler and Anne Lamott. Check them out.

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So far, I've done Jillian Michaels' 30-Day Shred three times. I know Jillian from The Biggest Loser, and Linda recommended the DVD. The first time, I did it without hand weights and thought, "This isn't hard at all! What is everyone complaining about?" Ha. Ha, ha, ha. The next two times, I did it with three-pound hand weights. Which doesn't sound very heavy, I know. But ow. That's really all I can say. Also, I can't do the squats where you put one leg behind the other, squat, and do bicep curls as it makes my back knee feel like it's going to snap in two. So I just put my feet shoulder length apart, squat, and do the bicep curls that way. The great thing about this video is that you're done in about 20 minutes. The bad thing about it is that it makes me realize what a wimp I am. But I'm working on it. I love when Jillian barks about things like "FALSE MESSAGES OF LETHARGY." It fires me up, it truly does. I'm not doing it every day (alternating with Punch, Kick, and Jam, gelato, jogging outside, french fries, weights at the gym, and chocolate chip cookies), but it's definitely good in a pinch. Note: I do these workouts in my living room, which has very hard ceramic tile flooring with no give whatsoever. I simply cannot do repeated jumping jacks and butt kicks and jump roping on that kind of floor without severe ankle and knee pain. For some reason, even running on concrete roads and sidewalks is easier than that. So I throw down the yoga mat and do the serious pavement pounding exercises on it. It really helps, though I'm not sure it's entirely safe as sometimes the mat feels like it might go flying. And three-pound weights are definitely heavy enough for me right now because of the many reps ... I don't think I could complete the circuits with a heavier hand weight right now. If that makes me a wuss, so be it.

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B. and I started Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day and turned it off after the first 30 minutes. I finished it later on my own, and all I have to say is DON'T give up on this movie. It is so much more than it initially seems. There is a shift after the first third or so, and suddenly what seems really silly becomes more serious, and the performances are wonderful and it's really moving and I loved it! I highly recommend it. Amy Adams and Frances McDormand are unsurprisingly great and give wonderfully nuanced, layered, heartfelt, heartbreaking, and funny performances, and Lee Pace -- wow. Lee Pace. If you've never seen him as anything but Ned on Pushing Daisies, you already know he's fantastic, but he's REALLY GOOD in this movie. His English accent is perfect, at least to my ears, and when his character really comes onto the scene about 40 minutes in, it's what really snaps this movie into place. Everything about his performance in this screams Future Movie Star in the most beautiful possible way. Give this movie a chance ... it really lifted my spirits and put pep in my step. I liked it so much I watched every special feature and listened to the director's commentary and then started the movie over for the third time. I am becoming attached, so much so that I feel emotionally incapable of returning it to Netflix.

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I don't know what else to say. The weather has turned in the past few days; I am sure it will get hot again, but it's been such a welcome change in the air. I still do not have a new roof or a roofer or anything fixed on my house, and I am growing accustomed to the mold smell. It's just incapacitating, somehow, deciding how and when to do all this and how to pay for it. And I'm still really ill about and saddened by Gustav and Ike in general and by what they did to my state and to Texas.

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In other news, before Gustav came along and ate all of my money with his giant ridiculous should be illegal deductible and in spite of the fact it might cause me to fail both of my classes, I bought a plane ticket to Hawaii. Where I am going very soon. Like some kind of lunatic. Who cannot wait.

Yes, we can.

This morning after unsuccessfully attempting to get some news about Ike (no internet and no cable at home post-Gustav makes that tough), B. and I decided to head to the store. First we stopped for coffee; he waited in the car. I walked into the coffee shop wearing this Obama shirt. I made conversation with a couple of employees and served myself a large half-cafe au lait, half-hot chocolate, paid for it, and went to the little coffee counter to mix my drink, put the top on the cup, and so forth. It was a pleasant morning so far, Ike worries notwithstanding. There were three men sitting at the table adjacent to the coffee counter.

"Barack Obama is good, huh?" one of them asked. I smiled, thinking they were just making friendly conversation with a stranger, as people around here, myself included, are wont to do. "Yes, I think so," I replied.

"I don't think he's good," he said. "Barack Obama scares the shit out of me." He said this is a loud, angry voice. I blinked for a moment, still smiling, and said, "Well, sir, this is America. We can disagree, and it's okay." I was very conscious about being as cordial and polite as possible, partly because I am brainwashed by Southern etiquette to respect my elders but mostly because I was not about to cop a 'tude while wearing a Barack Obama shirt. As dumb as it might sound, I am always very conscious about not displaying assholish behavior in public (impatience in Wal-Mart lines, honking my car horn at people who don't know how to do the four-way stop thing at our many still-powerless stop lights, etc.) when wearing one of my Obama shirts. I want to be a good ambassador in whatever small way I can. So I gave what I thought was a diplomatic, polite answer and prepared to be on my way.

Then he said, "You're not welcome in here." On the inside, I did a double take. Surely he could not have said that.

"I'm sorry," I said before I could stop myself, still smiling and polite, "Did you say I'm 'not welcome in here?'" I could feel my face start to get red and my hand start to shake as I stirred my coffee, but I tried to be steady. He and his friends hemmed and hawed and he denied saying it, still without wiping the scowl from his face, but it was in a way where he clearly had and it was obvious. I said, steeling that smile on my face with all the force I had within, "I'm just trying to get coffee here."

"Obama!" another man at the table sneered. "He's one step away from communism!" I stirred my coffee determinedly.

Then I said, "Y"all have a great day. It's been really nice talking to you," and though I wanted to say it sarcastically, I tried to say it nicely. I was just determined to be nice. I did not want them to see that they had upset me, and I surely did not want to reveal the bitchface that was now boiling beneath the surface. Maybe that was the wrong thing to do, but I just felt it was the best call I could make at the time.

As I turned and walked out, I felt the tears springing to my eyes and said a fast goodbye to the employee I normally would have hugged and chatted with a little longer. He looked a little confused and worried but I rushed to the car, by which point I was fully crying. B. was alarmed and promptly wanted to go back inside and "talk to them" (punch them out). But I figured that could have led to nothing good, so I just bawled in the parking lot for a few minutes to the point where I began sweating profusely and then composed myself. He said I need to get in touch with my mean side, but I said I couldn't, not when wearing my Obama shirt.

Here is the thing: I am very familiar with the playful, friendly (if often condescending) way that older men joke around with and rib younger women. It happens all the time, particularly in my work environment and just with men I encounter all the time in every day life. Normally I will go along with it even if it's sexist and rude because it's usually in a playful way and in a way that is so ingrained in our society that it feels easy to roll my eyes and let it roll off my back.

This was not that kind of encounter. It isn't even so much what they said as the way they said it. They weren't doing the "Ah, the folly of youth!" thing. These men weren't smiling, they weren't friendly, and they weren't doing that harmless joking/non-sexual sort of flirting that men of a certain age do with women of a certain age. They were acting with outright contempt. They were sneering. I'd say they were even snarling. They were like three mean, hateful, angry snakes. Their behavior was almost cartoonish. They were like villains in a cartoon, except they were right there in real life. It's shocking to me now, a few hours later, to think about the disgusted looks on their faces. The way they looked at me, like I was disgusting. Because of the name of the man on my shirt.

I called my mom, who made me feel much, much better. She wisely pointed out that confrontation is a risk you take when you wear a shirt advertising a candidate or a religion or whatever. She said, "I'd be taking a risk wearing a shirt with something about the Catholic church." Correct, and duly noted. She also said that it was three against one and they felt like they had the power in the situation because they were three older men and I was one younger woman. She said that made them feel "macho and cool" but that alone, each is "probably a little weenie." (These are direct quotes. I love the way my mother talks sometimes.) She said lots of people hate Obama and "some people hate George Bush." I said, "I really hate George Bush, Mom. I am counting the days until he leaves office. But I would never attack a stranger in public for wearing a Bush shirt!"

She said, "It was an attack. You were attacked for being who you are. They might as well have punched you in the stomach." I could have kissed her for saying that, for understanding that. She said there are plenty of McCain supporters who would "never, ever behave that way."

She said, "I think we should pray. Lord, we know you love those men -- even though they are an insult to humanity. Please help us not to let them exert any more power over us." I wish I could remember more of what she said, because it was truly classic. After this wisdom and prayerfulness, she said, "I really wish I could just get a gun and shoot them." I wanted to say, "Well, Mom, if the election goes your way ..." but I didn't. As for my dad, he asked me, "Who were they? What did they look like? Had you ever seen them before? Do you think they're regulars?" I think he wanted to go start a fight! It was very nice and dadly. Then he sighed and said, "They're idiots. We should pray for them." In case I haven't mentioned it lately, I love my parents a lot.

It was a small encounter, but it feels so much bigger to me. I think I sobbed both immediately following and when relating the story to my mother for many reasons. Because of the way that men treat women. Because I hated myself a little for not standing up for Obama and for myself. Because of the way white people treat black people and treat anyone who plans to vote for a black man. Because Obama "scares" people so much that they HATE him. What is scary about Barack Obama? I will never understand this. Because they actually behaved that way to a woman trying her hardest through gritted teeth to treat them with respect and fight back the tears at the coffee counter of the oldest, friendliest coffee shop in town, a place she's come with her family her whole life, a place where she's never felt anything but happy, welcomed, and safe and that they would actually mutter the words, "You are not welcome here." WTF-ing F? Seriously? I have made plenty of cracks about McCain and Palin, but I don't feel actual, visceral hate for them. (Wish I could say the same thing about GWB ... cannot.)

Most of all, I think I sobbed because it hit me like a ton of bricks that if these men's hate is multiplied by the thousands and millions that Obama could really, truly lose. And more than being treated rudely by a trio of assholes, more than living in a world where men are dickheads to women just because they think they can be, that is what truly breaks my heart about this situation. If they could muster up that much hate in a coffee shop while surrounded by the smell of beignets and the joyous sight of children practically inhaling powdered sugar -- what are people in the rest of America doing? What will they be able to pull off on November 4? I think that love is stronger than hate. If love were the deciding factor, I think the people who believe in Obama could love him right into office. That's how strong my love feels today.

Easter feaster

For Easter lunch my mom made crawfish fettucini, dirty rice, cabbage crunch salad, a ham, a turkey, ice cream dessert, rolls, and apple pie. I can't decide if it was over-the-top excessive or just right. I think just right.

On Friday night, B. and I attended a bowling birthday party for a friend. After another 70-hour work week (not complaining; many of my colleagues worked possibly twice that), I was a little delirious and did not get too into the bowling revelry. I contemplated posting a video B. took of me taking a turn but I might be just a little too proud for that as my technique is rather spastic. I saw some school pals there, which was a nice surprise.

Yesterday, we woke up early and went to the farmer's market. We bought grapefruit and cranberry cream scones and brussel sprouts and peanut butter fudge. I tried to nap but it was futile, as usual. I went to my friend M.'s house for a little while to hang out with her and her girls. The Annie soundtrack reigned supreme as usual lately. B. and I got sushi take-out for dinner and watched Michael Clayton, which was better than I thought it would be.

I've been watching a lot of behind the scenes features on the Across the Universe DVD, and the more I delve into this movie, the more I like it.

This morning, I was being lazy and watching The Goonies before we went to lunch. Of course I have seen it one billion times and own it on DVD and loved it so much as a child I used to dream about it, but that doesn't mean I won't stop flipping and watch it if it's on TV. Anyway, I understand that at the beginning all of the kids have their backs turned or are distracted when the Fratelli chase is going on so nobody will believe Chunk at first when he tells them about it. But I don't understand what the giant vat of water is that Martha Plimpton is sticking her head into to cool off. What is that about? It certainly doesn't look very clean. Mystery. Okay -- according to this version of the script: "Stefanie, known to her friends as Stef, is at the docks. The chase passes behind her while her head is immersed in a fishing barrel. She surfaces with a crab in hand and tosses it aside, oblivious to the commotion. " -- but why would she be sticking her head in a fishing barrel? Can someone please explain this to me?

I watched Barack Obama's speech of this week this morning. I had tears streaming down my face for approximately 35 of the 38 minutes. I tried to bring it up at Easter lunch but my mom said even though she heard me and understands that it was a great speech that she does not approve of Obama, basically. I feel like maybe she buys into the idea that he's a great speaker, but so what? I tried to explain that reading his first book really showed me what's behind the great speeches and how much more deeply I understand where he's coming from now. She said a lot of people don't understand why he would stick with that preacher for the past 20 years if he disagreed with him so much. She wasn't saying she thought that; she was saying a lot of people are saying that. I was so out of everything happening in the world because I was working so much that I haven't really heard the reactions. I didn't know what to say, so I just said, "People are complicated." She thinks it's really going to hurt his campaign. My dad said he doesn't think it will have as much of an effect as she does. He thinks Obama will get the nomination. Both said they don't know if he can win. It was kind of baffling. My dad is careful not to say too much, I think, because I think they get that I love him. I guess I just don't understand how my mom of all people doesn't understand why Obama would not want to stick with someone who helped to bring him to his Christian faith and in whose church he was literally converted even though sometimes he says messed up things. I just do not know. It's sort of confusing to me. I love my mom and want to understand where she's coming from.

It makes me sad to think about it, so I think I'm going to eat another piece of peanut butter fudge.

Yes we can

Some things I know

Here are some things that I know:

I want Barack Obama to be our next president.

That he won the state where my sister spent Super Tuesday standing on corners with a sign and pounding the pavement and knocking on doors makes me immeasurably proud.

That it would be wrong for me to miss work at such a busy time to attend his visit tomorrow morning makes me unbelievably sad and has made me weep more than once today.

I had a picture of Barack Obama hanging on my office wall for over a year, and I felt like I should take it down a few days ago because we're not supposed to advertise such opinions there. Which bums me out and makes me mad. I think it's even made me afraid to talk about it on my own personal website. Which is just ridiculous and it's stopping now. It should have stopped a long time ago.

My vote for Kerry was my vote against Bush. I never felt any kind of love for Kerry or any deep belief that he could save us from ourselves. He just wasn't Bush and that was enough for me. But now I feel so much love for Obama, and I believe in him so intensely, and I feel like if he doesn't make it, it's going to leave a trail of broken hearts all throughout this country, my own included.

I have no idea what is going to happen. I know I will be voting in my state's primary on Saturday and for whom I'll be casting my vote. Mine is just one little opinion, mine is just one little belief, but it feels huge inside me right now.

I've watched this video at least a dozen times, and I've cried big honking tears every time. I sent it to my mother, who is a Republican because she is pro-life, really, I think is the real reason; she was zealously, obsessively into politics during Clinton's final term but has stepped back the past few years and focused more on spiritual matters; she told me recently that thinking of Hillary as president makes her "sick to her stomach." She is one of those people who would never, ever, ever vote for Hillary under any circumstances, but I think she would consider voting Democrat if that Democrat were Barack Obama. Case in point, I sent her this video even though as a rule we do not, cannot discuss politics, and she wrote back, "What a GREAT speech!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" with all those explanation points. It made me feel close to my mom. I truly think that if Obama were the candidate, she would at least stop and think about him as an option before voting in a knee-jerk manner along party lines. I feel like he could really speak to her heart. But I worry there are many like her who would cast a vote that would in essence be a vote against Hillary. I think a lot of people's dislike of her dates back to 1992 or even before then and that's a long time to dislike someone. That would be the message they'd send with their vote for the Republican candidate -- no Hillary, no way -- just like my vote was not really for Kerry but against Bush. And I don't really see people lining up to vote against Barack Obama in the same way. You know what I mean? I am no political strategist but this is what my instinct tells me. And I swear I believe that my parents are both big bleeding liberals deep down inside. I do not hate Hillary, and as my sister and I discussed in one of our many rapid-fire e-mails about this, it will not take long for us to get behind her if she's the nominee. But. But.

Obama makes me feel like I have a string of explanation points in my heart. I love him, and I believe in him. I think that if he were our president, the world might stop hating us so much and might even love us a little bit again. Maybe that is simplistic and maybe that is naïve. But I really believe it.

Bloggin' for Barack

My dear friend has just started a blog about Barack Obama. He's inviting people to submit their own posts about all things Barack. If you'd like to submit something, please send it to this e-mail address: Bloggin4Barack [at] gmail [dot] com. I'll be the one fielding the e-mails, so you'll actually be sending them to me.

This friend of mine knows a lot about politics. He's not an experienced blogger, he's just someone whose soul is on fire this political season, just like a lot of people's, and he's really feeling the Obama hope in his heart. If you are feeling the Obama hope in your heart, too, and feel like you want to shout it from the rooftops or simply make your opinions known, please think about sharing your thoughts. Your post can be posted anonymously or with a pseudonym or with your real name; just specify your wishes in that respect in your e-mail. Your post can be long or short, light or heavy, whatever's on your mind. Or it can simply be a link directing readers to thoughts you've already posted elsewhere, like on your own blog. I think my friend's intention is simply to have a place where Obama lovers can gather and bond in this next intense and exciting week or so and get their thoughts down in a collective place for posterity.

You can read his thoughts on the matter in this post. I think his position is beautifully stated. I'm proud of him for creating this space, and I encourage you, if you feel so called, to take part.

More remedies for the blues

Remedy: Listening to Gordon MacRae singing "Oh, What a Beautiful Morning" on the way to work.

Not a remedy: Toasted marshmallow hot chocolate from Starbucks. It tastes like someone dumped the powdery dust at the bottom of the Lucky Charms cereal box into a mug of hot chocolate. It is not good.

Remedy: Going out for an impromptu evening of beers and dinner with school friends after class when we all simply could not face the library and opted instead to walk on a beautiful night to dinner and where we visited and where I feel like I saw them all in a completely new way. They are all very neat people.

Not a remedy: Feeling somewhat awful about the state of several assignments.

Remedy: Suddenly deciding after 32.5 years of life that I rather enjoy cooler weather. Not cold, but cool. I slept more solidly last night than I have in months, and it was the coldest night we've had since last winter. No heater ... just nice warm pajamas and an excellent comforter. Coincidence? I think not.

Remedy: I don't know squat about the television industry other than I love television a whole lot and always have. I've been closely following the strike story on Pamie's site, Stee's site, Jenna Fischer's, James Gunn's. Striking reader Tony sent me these links, and I thought I'd pass them along. I just think that regular people should not get screwed over by big business and it's kind of that simple in my mind.

Remedy: George Bush's veto override. I don't even know what he vetoed. I'm just glad Congress handed it to him. SUCK ON THAT, GEORGE BUSH. I only wish they'd pulled it together and done it for the stem cell bill. That still burns me up so ferociously when I think about it that I become physically ill.

Remedy: Watching the dogs investigate their early Christmas present from B., their first-ever proper doghouse.

Denied

Shelley teaches spinning in New York City and is more interested than most in hearing about all of the details of my crazy exercise class. She has become somewhat obsessed with it from across the country, and we both put it on our calendars to go to the class together when she was in town this week. We've been completely excited about it to the point of near hysteria.

So we showed up at the gym. I had the ridiculously high $10 guest fee in hand, and after I scanned my membership card, I told the woman at the desk that I had a guest. She informed me that guests aren't allowed after 5 pm. Shelley and I just stood there and blinked in surprise. The woman pointed to an explanation of this policy taped to the counter. Shelley said, "But we've been planning this for two months!" The women looked unsympathetic. I said, "But we just want to go to the class. What if we ask the teacher for permission and he says yes? Could she come then?" And another woman sitting in an office behind the counter said rather loudly and meanly, "NO. That's the policy." So we turned and walked out, quite bitterly disappointed. I was feeling the angry tears come on, the kind that spring to your eyes when you're not sad but just plain old mad. I might have even gripped the steering wheel and made angry wailing noises. We consoled ourselves by ordering a ton of take-out sushi and heading to Maryelizabeth's, where we were cheered up by her kids' cuteness and the surreal save the world episode of American Idol. Can I just say once again that I love Josh Groban? I know, it makes no sense.

I am trying not to let my rage at being denied so harshly at the gym diminish my love for it. I truly do love that gym in all of its stinky, crowded glory. I feel like it's the gym of the people. And the policy, while totally not conducive to our plan, is posted. And I guess it does serve the purpose of depopulating the gym at its peak hours when there truly are not enough treadmills and weight machines to go around. I wish they would have let us ask the teacher for permission, because there is no way he would have turned away a willing body at whom he could scream, "LOVE YOURSELF!" And I really don't think one more body in that class would in any way tax the resources of the gym, particularly if they were paid that astronomical guest fee that they charge. But whatever. I am still going to love my class and its teacher and ignore the existence of those bitches behind the counter who did not even try to pretend to be nice about squelching our aerobic dreams.

I'm sad that Rosie won't be returning to The View next season but not surprised. My love for her remains unconditional and unwavering, and I will keep reading her blog and watch and see what comes next. Frankly, after enjoying her old show so immensely, it was a total coup and blessing to be able to watch her on TV every day again for a whole season. I love her, love her, love her.

I find myself having building anxiety about the presidential election. I am just not sure that America is ever going to truly recover from the across-the-board debacle that has been the George W. Bush presidency. I feel the only way that this country can redeem itself is to not allow its next president to be elected by the evangelical, redneck, gun toting right. I'm sure lots of evangelicals are lovely people, but it's the maniacal ones, like those who support the recent Supreme Court decision on abortion, and think that intelligent design should be required to be taught in public schools, and think that stem cell research kills babies, and think that only a Republican president will keep the terrorists away, and who think that there is actually a way to "win" in Iraq -- that there is something actually to be "won" there, what the hell, seriously, what are we trying to win? whom are we trying to beat? what is the definition of winning in Iraq, I really wish someone would just tell me -- who frighten and horrify me on every level. (Elisabeth Hasselbeck actually said, relative to the election and terrorists, that certain Democratic candidates would not be able to keep the terrorists from striking. Because some of them want to pull us out of Iraq. Like the two are connected. What? Is this not 2007? Has she learned nothing? What is going on?) I truly am frightened that they are so much more organized than the left will ever manage to be that they are going to win again. And it really is a crippling fear that strikes me deep in my heart. I was listening to the political junkie on NPR in the car the other day, and someone called in to say he was a conservative evangelical and that none of the Republican candidates are conservative enough for him. He was an intelligent-sounding, humorous guy, but come on. COME ON. The political junkie said that someone like Sam Brownback might end up swooping in. And I actually was so chilled to the bone by that statement that I felt myself freezing up to the point where I could hardly pay attention to the road. I am in absolute denial of such a scenario. Something like that cannot happen. It just cannot happen. I haven't even picked a Democratic candidate to support -- at this point, just give me a Democrat, any Democrat. I have gotten to the point of feeling totally exhausted and defeated by George Bush's second term and just living for the day when it is OVER. And the thought that someone other than a Democrat will take the White House and that this nightmare of anti-same-sex marriage, anti-stem cell research, pro-war, pro-gun HORROR will continue once that idiot is out of there is enough to make me ... I don't know. Make me deeply sad and deeply scared.