I’m writing some of this at 9:25pm, Pacific Time, on the 4th.  I’m sporting a fine champagne buzz and a feeling of disorientation.  Is this a movie?  Is this real?  It’s real.  I just watched The Speech.  It was marvelous.  It was stirring.  I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve teared up tonight.  It started when, at 8pm, when I was nursing Evie to sleep and Kile and I broke our “no news” rule for the night to turn on MSNBC and see some returns.  We gaped at the TV as some returns came in and theories were made about the remaining states.  Really?  Could it happen?  And then, at 8pm, it came.  The west coast projections were in.  Obama was our President-Elect.  And without even a warming, the tears flowed down my cheeks.  I stroked my baby girl’s back and murmured in her ear.  At last.

We went downstairs shortly thereafter, our laptops and phones back in hand (they were locked up in the guest bedroom), to tell Harry the good news.  We let him stay up to watch Obama speak at Grant Park.  This is history, after all.  He needs to be able to tell his children someday that he remembers the night Barack Obama became our president.

Even McCain’s speech was good.  The best speech I’ve heard him make so far this year, in fact.  Because FINALLY, I was hearing the John McCain that I used to admire.  He was gracious and dignified and commanding and GOOD.  It can’t have been an easy speech to make.  And Sarah Palin definitely looked verklempt.  But he owned it.  And he made it good.   Good on him.

I’m so proud of our country.  For eight LONG years, I felt weighted down.  I didn’t want to have “nostalgic” pride for my country, I wanted to be proud of my country in the present.  And I don’t want to make it sound like I haven’t been proud of my country at all the entire 8 years.  But there has been this weight on my shoulders.  It’s been on a lot of people’s shoulders.  And now?  Now, I feel like we can FINALLY move forward as a nation.  We can indeed come together after this election, and heal ourselves.

And that’s a lot of it.  This election is finally OVER.  No more speculation.   No more politics.  We can all go back to being friends, right?  We can all come together and unite again, right?

Right now, I’m just humbled and awed and excited and happy and tired and incredulous.

Wow.  Just… WOW.

Yep, I’m doing the list this week.  But I do want to put out the warning that there might be weeks here and there where I don’t do the list.  The last couple of days, for instance, it’s been difficult keeping up with my reader.  It’s always like that when we have company or anything remotely interesting going on.  (Which isn’t that often because we redefine what it means to be hermits.)  Anyhow, without further ado… I present to you this week’s fabulous list…

First, you’ve gotta check out Advice from Mom, Part I from Mighty Girl.  The advice in this list was SPOT ON.  I may print it out, laminate it, and give it to Evie when she turns 18.  Hey.  That’s not a half bad idea.

After last week’s sob-fest, it’s nice to see something GOOD from Loralee.  “And now for something COMPLETELY different…” from loraleeslooneytunes.com was a breath of fresh air and I found myself pumping my fist for her.  I will be cheering her on through this, you can count on that.  She is very deserving of a happy ending (or beginning?), don’t you think?

I Am Perfect, You Are Not – A Failure Of The Green… from The Good Human is a perfect example of how environmentalists can turn regular people off of going green.  And I’d say it goes for other facets of our lives as well.  I’m thinking, in particular, of politics.  I think a lot of Democrats turn off people who feel that they’re being talked down to, made fun of, whatever.  And when it comes to saving the planet, it doesn’t matter if you don’t do EVERYTHING, just as long as you do SOMETHING.  Wouldn’t you agree?

I think the “Best Post of the Week” award (shut up, it just made it up) should go to Maybe This Isn’t My Place to Say… from karensugarpants.com.  This post had me from start to finish, brought tears to my eyes and a lump to my throat.  I’m a gulible sort, and I didn’t see where she was going with this until the end of the post, which I felt made it that much more powerful.  This post was nothing short of amazing.  READ IT.

Oh Molly, I know (sorta) how you feel.  In How to fall apart with all (some) of the world watching from LOST A SOCK,  she talks about the quagmire she’s sunk into since her baby daughter was born several weeks ago.  It’s not easy.  And I want to club anyone who would dare even make it look like it is.  It’s a day to day struggle.  I want to send her supportive thoughts.  You’re not alone.

Also, if you’re in the mood for some giggles and blogging introspection, read Stats and Man Ponytails from The Bean.  I know what she means when she agonizes over strange and unexplainable differences in stats.  In feeling sometimes tied to the blog because of those stats.  Stats will ruin blogging, I’m positively sure of it.  I hate trying to decifer those maddening dips!

Maybe I’m obsessed with my iPhone, but My Top Ten iPhone Apps from Greeblemonkey is the sort of post I just GOBBLE up these days.  I feel so new to the technology and there are so many “apps” to choose from that I never know which one is going to be the BEST one.  So having a “cheat sheet” to refer to helps like you wouldn’t believe.  And if you don’t have an iPhone, reading this list will make you want to cut off your arm to get one! (Okay, maybe not.  But it sure sounded good, didn’t it?)

And that’s it for this week’s installment.  I hope everyone has fine and productive weekends.  I will be back at some point with pictures and stories from yesterday’s day trip.  Despite appearances, it did NOT involve alcohol (too bad!).  Has anyone guessed where we went?  (I didn’t really make it a secret, for the record.)

It started out not unlike every other morning.  The routine has been the same for years.  Kile gets up with his alarm between 5:30 and 6:00am (sometimes later, but not on this morning).  He would have his bathroom time and then take a long, steamy shower.  Why does he always try to boil his skin off?  Anyhow, it’s beside the point.  He gets dressed and that’s when I get out of bed, throw on my robe and slippers, etc and we go out into the living room to have breakfast, watch the Today Show and have a few minutes together before he has to leave for work.

It was such a nice morning, I remember thinking.  The sun was out, filtering through the windows.  The sky was clear.  It was a perfect day.  Not too warm, not too cool.  Perfect.  Or so I thought.

On this particular morning, Kile exited the master bedroom of our two bedroom apartment ahead of me and turned the television on.  I came out a minute later, a question on my lips (who knows what about?).  The question died as I stopped in front of the television, next to Kile who was also staring at the screen.  What was I looking at?  Was this a movie?  I struggled to orient myself as my eyes took in the scene.  A city… New York?  Buildings on fire.  No, not just any buildings.  The World Trade Center.  Both of them.  Why?  How?

Harry was not quite two years old and still asleep in the crib in his room.  I was free to sit, slack jawed before the television, and try to soak in what exactly was going on.  A plane had crashed into the towers.  Wait, TWO planes.  What the heck?  What did that mean?  Obviously it was on purpose.  But who?

Then a plane crashed into the Pentagon and that’s when things got really serious.  I’m a little muddy on the timeline of events.  It was seven years ago, after all.

Kile hung around as we watched in horror.  As the first tower came crashing down.  He didn’t believe it at first, but I saw the top of the tower fall.  We both had the same thought, “All those people…“  Eventually, Kile did leave for work.  I’m still amazed that he did.  I couldn’t have concentrated if I were him.  But maybe he needed the distraction.  Still, he told me that the whole office listened to the radio and watched TV all day long.  Not a lot of work got done.

That was pretty much the same story at home.  Harry, still so little, got very little attention all day long.  He was fed and cared for but my attention was on the television.  I couldn’t stop watching the screen, listening to the anchors as they gave us more and more information.  I soaked it in, unable to look away.  The horror was so fresh and so foreign.  What did this mean for our future?  Were we at war?  Would we ever be safe again?

I knew something was different from then on, but I didn’t know exactly what.  I couldn’t have predicted the change that happened in our country after that fateful day.  In so many ways, I’m so disappointed.  I thought we were better than this.  Stronger than this.  After the attacks, I was so proud to display a flag and put a “United We Stand” bumper sticker on our new van.  I watched Congress sing “God Bless America” on the steps of the Capital and for that moment, there were no parties.  No Republicans and no Democrats and I felt a stirring of hope.  Maybe if we could come together, then it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

It’s laughable now that I thought that.

Here it is, seven years later.  In so many ways, our great nation is more divided than it was at the beginning of that normal morning that wasn’t.  And sometimes I wonder, will we ever recover?