I Just Voted in Texas, and IT FINALLY COUNTS!

Forgive me, fellow Kossacks, but I can't help but celebrate a bit today!

Sure, I would have preferred it if my candidate of choice had won a clear lock on the nomination earlier in the process. Hasn't happened.

But if my choice hasn't nailed down the nomination yet, it's thrilling to know that, for once in my adult voting lifetime, my Texas ballot actually means something.

More below...

I just finished early voting today, and I'll admit that I felt a little weepy as that final button was pushed to register my ballot.

For two decades -- practically all of my voting lifetime -- I've voted as a Texan, and for two decades, there hasn't been much point.

By this time in previous political seasons, a Dem frontrunner has emerged -- and my primary vote has been, largely, a rubber stamp or a satisfying, but essentially meaningless, act of will.

And by the time the general rolls around in this winner-take-all state, I might as well wipe my butt with my ballot.

Today, though, was different -- and you could sense that difference in the lines at my early polling place. I arrived not just to the usual melee of signs, stickers and handshakes from candidates lower on the ballot than Obama and Clinton -- but to droves of early voters.

More early voters than I've EVER seen before in Texas. Many grasping crisp, clean, new voter-registration cards. All standing in line patiently, talking quietly about how historic this election, how wonderful is is to finally -- later in our lives -- feel like our votes matter.

The vast majority of the people I stood in line with were senior citizens, almost all African-American, almost all whispering to each other as they awaited check-in for their ballots how shocked and thrilled they were to get the chance to vote for a viable African-American candidate in our lifetime.

My eight-year-old had her newly won Obama t-shirt on, leaving her long hair down to cover up the name and picture on the back to avoid polling strictures against campaigning in the polling place. She read the names on the ballot as I voted, and I let her push the red button that made my ballot official.

An African-American man who appeared to be in his 80s leaned over and kissed the top of her head as we were leaving the courthouse.

It was a quick, sweet, real moment, falling smack in the middle of the election of my lifetime -- and it was the perfect icing on the cake.

I'm 44. I'm a native Texan. Today, my presidential primary vote counted for the first time since I began voting in 1981. Tomorrow, my daughter and I will be in the crowd to see Obama speak here in Dallas.

Tonight, I'll go to sleep proud and happy.