2. “I can’t believe you let me talk about a freaking air mattress for 15 minutes before you told me that.”

3. “400 cookies are for weenies. Next time we do 800!”

I really really love my friends.

Update 11/5: Looks like my vote wasn’t counted last night. Maybe Georgia will go blue after all, or at least maybe we can get Saxby Chambliss out of the Senate. Still quite annoyed by this development.

Wondering what tomorrow will be like, and the next day, and the next day.

Wishing Madelyn Dunham could have seen her grandson elected 44th President of the United States, especially because every time I re-read Obama’s convention acceptance speech (”She’s the one who put off buying a new car or a new dress for herself so that I could have a better life. She poured everything she had into me. And although she can no longer travel, I know that she’s watching tonight, and that tonight is her night as well.“) I tear up, but I suppose that’s not so unusual because a lot of his speeches make me tear up. Joe Klein says it better than me, and some of the commenters on his post make me truly hate Republicans.

Being hopeful.

1. Voting. I wanted to vote on Election Day, but this year the turnout is so high that I didn’t want to take the chance of getting stuck in a line for eight hours and being late for work (despite not having to go into work until 1 p.m. so I can help with election coverage), so yesterday I went with Alicia down to the Pryor St. polling station to vote early.

As it was just above freezing outdoors, I’m grateful Pryor St. had enough space to allow us to line up inside, even if the line did ultimately resemble a snail shell and even if Alicia and I did walk around like bemused tourists as we looked for the end of said line. We thought by going together we’d at least be able to keep each other company while we waited our turn, but for at least half the time, she held my place in line while I drafted emails on scraps of paper and then did a conference call on HER blackberry while typing out the final emails on MY blackberry.

It was about this time that I began to wonder if I’ve become a stereotype.

The line moved quickly (we finished in just over two hours), very much because of the efforts of the poll workers, who were organized and efficient and kept us organized and efficient. They’d learned from the mistakes Gwinnett County made earlier this week too; as we got closer to the actual polls, they made us turn off our cell phones and blackberries because they interfered with the voting machines.

It was about this time that I knew I’d become a stereotype.

I wish I’d remembered to take my camera. This is an election I definitely want recorded for posterity, especially because despite recent stories about the race tightening, I still have faith that my guy will win (and if you don’t know who that is, you must be new to this blog).

Barack Obama cleans up after a spill in an ice cream parlor in Iowa.
Photo courtesy of Time magazine’s Callie Shell.

I voted for the guy who cleans up after himself when he spills ice cream (instead of walking away assuming somebody else will do it). I figure if he does it in his daily life, he will do it as our president. Oh, and also, the guy who gets his shoes resoled (instead of spending $150,000 on designer clothing):

Barack Obama’s resoled shoes. Photo courtesy of Time magazine’s Callie Shell.
Click on the photo to see the whole amazing set.

And finally, the guy who knows he has a lot to learn, who admits it, and who finds a way to make me respect him even more:

“I’m reminded every single day that I am not a perfect man. I will not be a perfect president… But I can promise you this: I will always tell you what I think and where I stand. I will always be honest with you about the challenges we face. I will listen to you when we disagree. And, most importantly, I will open the doors of government and ask you to be involved in your own democracy again.”

So anyway, voting is beautiful, and I am so glad and grateful I was able to do it this year. I hope you did too, or are planning to go on Election Day.

(And yes, Geoff, I did vote for Jim Martin too.)

2. Ambition. Or, possibly, insanity. I’m not quite sure what to call my plans for this weekend, which include pulling two volunteer shifts for Barack Obama and also baking four hundred (or more) cookies for the people volunteering for him on Election Day. Alicia and I have it planned out, have taken into account allergies and food restrictions, have determined on which days to mix which batter and which days to slice and bake which dough so that on Tuesday all cookies are at maximum freshness.

We’re making world peace cookies, twice-baked shortbread (some of which we will half-dip in chocolate), lemon and lime bars, and the New York Times chocolate chip cookies.

I’ve had an itch to bake lately, so at least the timing on this is good because I suspect in 48 hours I will be sick of the sight of creamed butter and chocolate chips. That’ll free us up to start churning out cupcakes like Bree Van de Kamp.

If we can pull it off, I’ll feel like we accomplished something, and like we contributed tangibly to the Obama effort, and these days, in my world, that’s the height of beauty.

3. Trying. Over the last week month or two three, I’ve really felt like there is too much going on and that it’s a struggle every day just to keep my head above water. I keep telling myself that in X weeks things will get better, but X is a moving target that just keeps moving. So far, though, I have not yet pulled a Meredith, and for that I am proud of myself, that I haven’t yet decided to stop trying.

Well. That’ll teach me to underestimate the General.

I always had a lot of respect for him, even during the Iraq WMD debacle because it must be tough to have to sell something because your boss tells you to and not because you actually believe it. I still don’t think he believed it, but I also think Colin Powell is not a man to sell out anybody, much less his former boss and the current President of the United States. He’d rather take the hit himself.

Maybe I’m being too soft on him because on Sunday he said this: “Is there something wrong with being a Muslim in this country? The answer’s no, that’s not America.” Maybe. But I liked and respected Colin Powell on Saturday too; his statements on Sunday just solidified it for me. Now I like and respect him more for being honest and intelligent and straightforward and brave enough to say the things that need to be said.

(…which, he was even more to the point in the press conference after the show — see the YouTube below)

I’m still worried about the possibility of a McCain/Palin victory (not counting out a sneaky, underhanded last-minute surprise, or the impact of the DVDs, or the relentless robo-calling) but somehow, Colin Powell has managed to give me some of my optimism back. He took a stand. He made it clear he doesn’t think “Muslim” and “American” or “Muslim” and “good person” are at all mutually exclusive. It’s what I wanted Sarah Palin and John McCain to do. I guess this is why I think more highly of Powell than I do of them.

But then… I watch The Daily Show. I don’t live in a small town. I prefer the First Amendment to the Second. By the McCain/Palin standards, I am not a “real American”, so I suppose what I think doesn’t really matter after all.

Update: And the Rays win. Guess those Fox execs should have pulled out the big guns. In the meantime, I am mourning my poor Sox (yes, I rooted against them, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy to see them lose) and rolling my eyes at Chip Caray: “After all those years of futility, [the Rays] finally have something to celebrate.” Way to be a downer there, Chip.

“‘In some cases,’ he said, ‘we learn more by looking for the answer to a question and not finding it than we do from learning the answer itself. This is one of those cases. I could tell you why, but at the moment it would only be more confusing. If you grow up with any kind of sense — which you sometimes make me doubt — you will very likely reach your own conclusions. They will probably be wrong,’ he added. ‘However, since they will be yours, you will feel a little more satisfied with them.’”

Currently reading (in addition to The Book of Three): A Spot of Bother by Mark Haddon and Sabriel by Garth Nix.

Muslim family on the streets of New York City. We’re just like everyone else, you know.
Click on the image for the original Flickr page.

I first noticed it when McCain picked Sarah Palin as his running mate. Sorry, Palin fans. It’s not a partisan slam. When I heard her speak at the Republican National Convention, I had a scary moment of wondering what my life as an American Muslim would be like under a government headed by this woman who makes absolutely no secret of her dislike of the people of my faith. I’m sure if you ask, she’d qualify that she means only the TERRORIST Muslims, but to listen to her speak, there’s really no other kind, and nowhere in all her posturing does she ever make me believe that she would care that I have no terrorist designs whatsoever before she locked me up in a SuperMax somewhere and threw away the key.

Maybe that’s not what she believes, but it’s what I hear when she speaks, and I am the one who is usually unrelentingly optimistic and cheerful about the future of Islam in America. I am the one who agrees wholeheartedly with Imam Magid that there is no country on this Earth that is better for Muslims to live in than the United States because of all the freedoms and protections that are available here. I am the one who points to the incredible post-9/11 support of American Muslims as evidence that no, we are not in danger being put into of internment camps like the Japanese were during World War II.

And yet, Sarah Palin scares me.

What scares me more is that John McCain, a man I would have described four years ago as “honorable”, is tacitly encouraging this campaign tactic by not shutting it down or reigning in his surrogates. If John McCain expects me to ever consider him as a possibility for the office of the presidency (and if I am honest, that ship probably sailed in February, if not before), he needs to make me feel like he would be representing me and mine instead of just the people who look and think like him.

More than that, I resent this innuendo that somehow there is something wrong or “evil” with being Muslim. Frank Rich touches on it, Campbell Brown attacks it head-on, and Jon Stewart knocked it out of the park tonight.

I would really love to meet Sarah Palin or John McCain in person (her more than him because I do honestly think that somewhere in there the original John McCain is disgusted with the levels he’s stooped to) and ask them why it’s okay for them to spin me and mine as though we’re all always secretly scoping the joint to find the best place to put the C4 and why they think “Muslim” and “good person” (or “Muslim” and “American”) are mutually exclusive.

In the meantime, I suppose I’ll take comfort in knowing that the team at Five Thirty Eight is against Muslim-murdering Presidential Christian babies !FOR! Ohio.

The shoe Sarah Palin wore to the VP debate
(but I’m guessing hers was in black)

Not because she wore them, of course, but because they’re cute, but still….