Hope that I will no longer be flabbergasted.
Hope that I will no longer be reduced to a fetal-positioned wet noodle.

Despite the merciless, incessant, unrelenting inanity, I will remain….audaciously hopeful.

For example…. perfection. To resume my rhetorical questioning (albeit this time in the most positive light):

How often can we truly bask in the presence of greatness? I’m going to savor it as long as I can….images below selected from The Boston Globe:

Grace. Dang: our PREZ?

Cooollllllll factor on steroids. I mean again…our PREZ?

Possibility. The future is ours to lose.

Today my friend Teresa accused me of becoming an Obama Girl. I plead guilty…. but of course, on a far less hoochie and far more enlightened level.

Results on state props not yet in and lalalala because for now: We Dance!

Listening with mirth to acceptance speech at Yerba Buena

Christina & I jam to the bit of good music to be had at YB before heading out to where the real partying was taking place….

….which of course would be…MY ‘hood….we released the Obam-uppet from the fridge to join the fray.