(Lists from 2005, 2006, and 2007)

• President-elect Barack Obama!
• guacamole
• my workout buddies
• the sunset glow that comes through our windows
• Daylight Savings time
• catsitters
• several political columnists: Fareed Zakaria, Maureen Dowd, David Brooks
• recycling
• our new storm door which finally got installed after we'd used the broken one for way too long - no more duct tape handle!
• bluegrass
• the crew at the rescue squad
• Tina Fey
• grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup
• pepper mills
• hiking
• that Simon and Maylee have, miraculously, become mousers
• traveling with friends and family
• the public library
• Etsy
• cupcakes
• over-the-counter medications
• fresh basil
• TravelZoo
• being close to our parents, both in proximity and affinity
• having our home filled with friends

Last weekend we finally got a Wii Fit and I was very eager to compare my Wii Fit Age to Rob's because I knew mine would be better. I mean, I don't think there is any doubt about which of us is more fit. I work out in multiple ways multiple times a week, and Rob's fitness plan consists of "biking to work." I put that in quotations because he DOESN'T bike to work - he just tells his doctor that he does.

Considering that Rob has been lamenting his actual age, I was looking especially forward to mocking his Wii Fit Age. "Oh! Thirty going on FIFTY!" I would taunt while reveling in the fact that I've got the strong hard body of a 21 year-old.

Except that's not exactly how it happened. I took the Body Test first, and after taking my measurements, it gave me a balance test to do. No big deal. I do yoga, people. You should see my Tree Pose. Balance is not a problem.

But. I didn't understand the instructions of the balance test. At all. The interface was SO not clear. Rob seemed to understand it right away, and was trying to tell me what to do, but I was not getting it. I was supposed to lean left and then right on the balance board to get the red bars near the blue bars...or something like that. I was completely confused as Rob continued trying to coach me. I shifted left and right and the bars moved up and down erratically and I grew more frustrated and Rob became more exasperated and then suddenly it stopped.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Time's up," Rob said.

"It was TIMED?!"

"Oh my god, how do you NOT understand this?"

I expected there to be additional tests to comprehensively assess my fitness level, but that was it. One stupid, impossible-to-understand balance test! Which I totally failed. Seriously, I didn't even get through all the levels because I took so much time not understanding what the hell to do.

So then my Wii Fit Age appeared. Forty-freaking-six. 46, people! Humiliating. But I would argue this is less a reflection of my physical prowess than it is of my mental acuity. Which is no less embarrassing, since apparently I have a middle-aged mind that cannot comprehend these darn new-fangled video games.

Rob's Wii Fit Age? 27. Such bullshit, I'm just saying. Although I'm sure it was nice for him, for just a moment, to be under 30 again.

When I was young, many people around me, including my father, referred to African-Americans as "colored." The word was spoken matter-of-factly, not maliciously. But the inherent connotation is one of disrespect, perhaps not actively intended but still vestigial and powerful all the same.

One of my earliest victories as a socially-conscious person was to teach my dad to, at the very least, replace that word with "black," a word preferred by the community it describes. I knew my dad to be a good-hearted man and I understood he was struggling against a lifetime of hearing the other word and accepting the inequality it implied. I was gentle but steadfast in my insistence that words matter.

Once his vocabulary changed, I began chiseling away at the prejudice I saw in both of my parents. Having taught the word, I then instructed on its irrelevance. "Not that it matters" became my mantra every time my parents made a point of someone's race. "Did you know that Susan's daughter's boyfriend is black?" Mom might ask. "Not that it matters," I would reply. Soon they were repeating this phrase themselves, with a glance in my direction, adding it to the end of their questionable comments before I could. I considered this progress, even if the acknowledgment was an afterthought. And gradually, I heard racial comments coming from them less and less.

I share this to illustrate how profound it is even to me, someone whose life never overlapped with the civil rights movement, that this country has just elected a black man. That Barack Obama would be our first African-American president did not appear on the list of reasons I voted for him. He has the potential to be a transformational leader for reasons beyond his race, and I believe his will be an historical presidency for reasons beyond his race. But clearly the fact of his race has enormous impact, and that makes me even more proud of his election. I am amazed at how far we've come, and at how long it has taken us to get here.

We're not there yet. I know that. Here in Redneck Valley, someone sprayed "KKK" on an Obama sign some weeks ago. I have a very real fear of an assassination, an event from which I don't think we could recover. Even avoiding such a horror would not mean we're healed. There will always be bigots, and there is still rampant inequality of opportunity throughout this nation.

But in the week since the election, what I'm finding most remarkable is the perspective of our youngest citizens. This article describes it, and this post is especially resonating with me, particularly this line: "I don't know if he would believe me."

To think that today's children will be incredulous at the story of slavery, are clueless to the connotation behind the word "colored"... it heartens me.

And it gives me hope that to the next generation, not allowing a person to marry whomever he or she wants will sound just as absurd. It gives me hope that we are indeed making progress toward a more perfect union.

I remember waiting for the election results in 2000. Rob and I were sitting on the futon in my dorm room watching the numbers come in on my 14" TV. We are registered independents, and had both voted for Al Gore, although perhaps for different reasons. The environment was one of the issues that Rob cared most about, and he felt strongly that Gore was the right leader for that cause. And I felt strongly that George W. Bush was a pompous moron. For me, intelligence was a key issue in that election.

It was the first presidential election in which I'd been old enough to vote. Watching the results roll in, I had absolute confidence that the rest of America felt as I did, that no way would a man who could not properly put sentences together be voted President of the United States. I didn't follow polls, or politics, but I remember thinking he didn't have a chance, that his candidacy was a joke.

And I remember watching, dumbfounded and horrified, as he won. (Or at least was believed to have won, pending recounts.) There is no word strong enough for my disbelief at that moment.

A sense of unease settled over me, and what I remember most clearly from that evening is turning to Rob and saying, "What happens if we go to war?" That was my first thought. I don't know why that came to mind, except that I was so certain of his inability to lead that my mind jumped to the implications of a worst-case scenario. And I remember Rob scoffing at the notion of going to war, assuring me that wouldn't happen.

We were naive. We had no idea what could happen. And I mean all of us, not just Rob and me. Although certainly Rob and me. I was not a well-informed citizen. I paid no attention to the workings of our government or the issues in this country. I was a junior in college with other preoccupations.

Four years later, I voted against Bush again. This time I was more informed and better understood what was at stake, that there was more at stake than before. And this time, as I watched the results roll in, I knew better than to assume that the rest of America felt the same way I did. But I suspected, and hoped, that after the lies we'd been told and the mess we were in, this country would not re-elect the same man. And yet he won. There is no word strong enough for my dismay at that moment. And if I'm being honest, I'll admit to feeling disappointment in this country ever since.

In fact, I have pondered whether or not I belong here. Strong words, I know. But it has seemed clear that my views are not shared by the majority of citizens in this country. I've wondered if rather than living under certain laws and beliefs that I strongly don't support, I should move to a place that's a better fit for me. This is a great country, but it's not the only great country. It's blindly patriotic to think that it is. But I could never really consider leaving, at least not now, because being near family is more important to me than living in a country in which I feel understood and represented. And so I stay. And hope for change.

Which brings us to this election. I have supported Barack Obama since the primary season. I've donated money and volunteered time to his campaign, neither of which I ever considered doing in past elections. I believe in this man, fervently. He is not a savior, but he is the one for this moment, this dot on the global time line. His leadership at this pivotal point seems inevitable, ordained by history.

And so on Tuesday I voted for Barack Obama as emphatically and enthusiastically as a person possibly can. He represents what I believe in and where I want to see this nation go. His vision of our future is the America I have been waiting for.

This time, as the results came in, I had no expectation of winning. Any real hope in that regard had been squelched by the last two elections. And yet as I watched state after state, including my own always-red state, turn blue on the map, this country's choice was clear. And there is no word strong enough for my elation.

We have risen to the occasion. It's a characteristic for which we were once known, but not a reputation we have earned in recent history. In the next four years, there will be many occasions for rising. Rising up, rising above. And with our joining of voices, and a leader whose faith in this nation has repeatedly brought me to tears, I believe we can.

Yes we can.

"If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible; who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time; who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer....It’s the answer that led those who have been told for so long by so many to be cynical, and fearful, and doubtful of what we can achieve to put their hands on the arc of history and bend it once more toward the hope of a better day."

I skipped work and stood in the cold for over 4 hours for the chance to see and hear him in person. It was completely worth the wait. Inspirational, emotional, historical....amazing. Plus, I totally saw a Secret Service dude talking into his sleeve.