That was an amazing speech. I’ve been waiting a long time for it. I don’t mean the speech given by the first black president, but the speech that opens the nation’s arms and asks for the best in people. I know the coming weeks, months and years won’t be easy, but for just a few moments, I believed it was possible we’ll get through them more or less intact.

I still do. In a country where a black Democrat could carry Indiana — although not Allen County, har — anything really is possible.

So let’s see how the invitation is being taken in the losers’ locker room:

Just watched Wonder Boy’s speech. Hmph. “Callused hands”? When did he ever have callused hands? – John Derbyshire, The Corner.

Ah, well. Let us be magnanimous in victory. I always hated all that “get over it, loser” bullshit the more obnoxious wings of the GOP served on its mornings after, so let’s not serve it.

Let’s just chuckle wryly for a few days. And check the less-talked-about races:

Here in Michigan, medical marijuana won by an embarrassingly wide margin — 63 percent approved it. Embryonic stem-cell research, approved. The first Democrat in history will represent the Grosse Pointes in the statehouse. (He defeated a nice blonde lady who seemingly had a sign in every yard in the district, in line to be the first woman commodore of the Grosse Pointe Yacht Club, which will have to be her consolation prize. We may be talking a reverse-Bradley effect today.) Over in Oakland County, Toilet Joe Knollenberg is outta here, along with the first sitting chief justice of the Michigan Supreme Court to be voted out of office.

In the words of a Detroit city councilwoman: Calling out around the world, are you ready for a brand new beat?

I didn’t sleep well last night — iChat was buzzing well after midnight. Today let’s discuss not the presidential race, but local ones in your various municipalities and districts, oddities that didn’t make the national-news roundups, but are worth mentioning.

And let’s speculate on the Obama family puppy. Given how stunningly photogenic the rest of the crew is, I expect nothing less than a yappy little rag bundle with an eye patch. Name of…Scamp, maybe. In other words…a Jack Russell! John Scalzi already has his reality-check post up, and wisely notes, Your president will not give you everything you want, when you want it. But I want that puppy, dammit.

I’m going back to bed for a couple hours. You kids play nice, now.

I’m going out on a limb here — 6:39 p.m. Eastern — and predicting a landslide, which my pol friends call 55 percent or more. The Hand of Fate is obviously engaged now. The grandmother dying, 70 degrees in Chicago on November? These are all signs of Destiny.

Anyway, use this thread as the results come in. Sorry about the puppies.

Via MetaFilter: Election got you down? Can’t relax? What you need is a live webcam of a box full of puppies. They were all sleeping a while ago, and Mr. Green Collar woke everybody up.

UPDATE: Poo. The puppies are off the air. I’ll keep checking.

In the great tradition of Election Day journalism, I plan to sleep as late as possible and spend most of the day doing nothing other than voting and running errands. Consider this an open E-Day thread, to discuss anything from the weather to recipes to your experience at the polls.

Exercise the franchise, at least once.

First returns: Dixville Notch goes for Barry, 15-6.

A thunderstorm rolled through around 6 a.m., maybe earlier. Shook the house, woke us all. Alan, who sleeps with a clear conscience every night of his life, drifted back under. Kate, the early riser discombobulated by the time change, got up and went downstairs for some surreptitious television. Me, I opened the Jim Harrison book on the nightstand and read a couple of chapters. It’s a funny one, and I chuckled a lot.

I started thinking what life will be like after tomorrow, and hoped it would be like this morning — a storm followed by the pleasant sound of rain on the window, a good book and less time at the computer. That’s the best I can wish for, you Republican assholes.

Just kidding!

Maybe the mood is catching. The NYT says John McCain is winding up the campaign in a jocular mood, telling Henny Youngman jokes. Henny Youngman jokes, yes. I’m middle-aged, and Henny Youngman was already on the golden-oldie circuit when I was growing up. Everything I know about him I learned from JoodyB’s husband, who spent senior year at Ohio University slumped in a chair in The Post newsroom, telling Henny Youngman jokes: “They’re a real fastidious couple. She’s fast, he’s hideous.” “A man goes to a psychiatrist. The doctor says, ‘You’re crazy.’ The man says, ‘I want a second opinion!’ ‘Okay, you’re ugly too!'”

Which is not to say Henny Youngman isn’t funny. It’s just that this campaign has been so awful all I can think is what the reaction would be if Barack Obama sat on his plane telling Richard Pryor jokes.

One thing I’ll sort of miss: Checking fivethirtyeight every day, and sort of regretting I paid so little attention to statistics, etc., during my formal education. How can a person stay interested in this stuff day after day? Probably by crunching subsets of numbers like the cellphone effect. Fascinating.

Let this be the last (very tall, equal parts amusing/cringe-inducing) word on the election. Although I’m sure it won’t be.

Because there’s this, too:

Don’t let that be the last word.

Let’s talk about cooking today, eh? I made Betty Rosbottom’s cider-roasted chicken last night, along with mashed potatoes and sauteed Swiss chard. For dessert, a crumb-topped apple pie made with Northern Spies. If you don’t think that’s a fine repast, well, then you’re my daughter, who did her usual pick-and-gag over everything but the pie. No, not everything. I would have had to splatter her brains with a shotgun to even get her to consider the chard. What sort of mutant child doesn’t like mashed potatoes, I ask? WHAT SORT OF CHILD?!? Mine.

Of course, you guys can talk about anything you want. And probably will.

I tend to disengage from the news on the weekends, except for the usual NPR, which is way too high-minded to cover a story like this.

And it was in my back yard!

UPDATE, via Kos and Detroitist: Oh, of course she was an alternate delegate to the GOP convention.