I’ve had a lot of mixed feelings about marriage growing up.  At first I was all for it.  I didn’t quite have the Cinderella dream, but I wanted to get married someday and saw myself with a husband and two or three kids and dogs and cats.  Later I leaned that marriage had it’s complications. Not domestically, although of course it does, but politically, like that it may have been started so men could own women.  This soured my taste for it.  Then I came out as a lesbian and with its historical muddiness and my own personal rejection from the club, I denounced it.  I said things like, Why would gay people even want to be part of this historically burdened institution.  Why waste our time fighting for marriage.

But now I feel differently.  I was asked a few years ago to facilitate a marriage for a straight couple.  I became a minister online and read a lot of other people’s ceremonies to understand why they would want to commit themselves for life and also to come up with what to say.  What I learned in that process was that the most important reason to get married is not legal or religious, but social.

Now, I’ve learned this from experience.  I got married a few weeks ago.  I think it was mostly inspired by my little-girl self who always wanted it.  But what I experienced taught me much more than what I learned studying about it. Marriage may have had a lousy beginning, but today it is a glorified institution we all should have access to if we want it.

I was cheered like a rock-star; my whole family (like 50 people) flew in from all over the country to be there; strangers beeped their horns when they saw the toilet paper and shaving cream on our car; my flight attendant gave us complimentary champagne when I said we were on our honeymoon; the concierge at our hotel, my friends, the flight attendant, the check out lady at the grocery store, everyone said CONGRATULATIONS! like I’d done something important.

People didn’t seem to care that I married a woman.  But everyone cared that I got married.

Dear Posterity,

I realize I’ve been writing post-it notes about the fun or cool or noteworthy things that have been going on lately and not writing them down anywhere, except on post-it notes.  So right now, on the day after Christmas, while my family is at a kid’s birthday party and I am home alone because Victoria took the kids and gave me a pass, I will write them down.

1.  Tashi gave away all her Princess possessions.  The princess phase is OVER.  On the day before her 6th birthday, we cleaned out her closet and her toy chest (which is actually  her whole room) to make way for new toys.  We do this every once in a while.  I talk about how she has so much and how there are many children who don’t have very much at all.  I think she understands this concept because two years ago Tashi and I went to a small town in Guatemala and stayed in a little bungalow and the  woman in charge of the bungalow we stayed in lived in another bungalow right next to it.  She had a daughter named Luna, who was a year or so older than Tashi.  The two girls played together on hammocks outside our bungalows.  Luna and Tashi were playing inside our bungalow one night with two Brats that Tashi brought with her.  They were Teen Brats, not the slinky, sexy, hoochie-mama adult Brats.  Luna loved these Brats. I mean, LOVED.  She talked about how bella they were and once she discovered them, that was it for swinging on hammocks.  Before we left, I asked Tashi if she wanted to give Luna one of her Brats.  Tashi did.  I don’t remember how that went down, maybe Tashi was struck by how little Luna had. Luna had one doll to her name.  But I doubt it.  I probably made a deal with Tashi, which I do often.  ”You give Luna one of your Brats and I’ll let you eat dinner tonight. Deal?”

Deals worked so well for so long.  But now that Tashi’s six, she’s constantly trying to strike a deal with me.  ”I’ll have one cookie and you can have one cookie.  Deal?”

However it happened, Tashi gave Luna a Brat and I was so proud of my sweet, generous girl.  The next year I went back to Guatemala alone and brought Luna another Brat.  A gift from Tashi.

My point about Luna is that we talk about Luna whenever we clean out her toy chest.  So I think she understands that some people don’t have as much stuff as she has.  I worry a lot about this concept and don’t know how to actually teach my children to appreciate all they have.  I’m working on it.  I wanted to donate toys to needy children this year for Xmas, but didn’t figure out how to do that in time. I will next year.  I hope.  I want to.

So the day before Tashi turned six, she was really cool about clearing out and giving away her old things.  Not cool about everything.  She clung to a Barbie head that looks demented, in my opinion.  Not only because it’s just a head, but because it has blue lipstick, which is probably nail polish or maybe permanent marker, and other “make-up” and the hair…I just don’t like that thing.  But I didn’t make any deals about it because Tashi gave away four princess costumes, two sets of wings, two magic wands, three crowns, her Ariel backpack, a Sleeping Beauty bag, plastic glass slippers, and more.  I couldn’t believe it.  My girl is growing up.

There’s more, but I’m tired.

Love,

Andrea

I’ve been on a newspaper reading spree for two days now and yesterday I read in the Miami Herald that President Obama wants to come up with some compromise on the abortion ban in the healthcare bill. He said he doesn’t want funding for abortion to sneak into the bill.

Abortion is a LEGAL, MEDICAL procedure in this country.  Why is the government, including our president, trying to control through backhanded legislation, what kinds of procedures people can get?  I know the answer is political cow-towing bullshit for reelection.  But it’s wrong.

This is like saying, let’s make sure funding for kidney transplants doesn’t sneak into the bill. The government, health insurance companies, NOBODY should be allowed to deny specific medical services.

Reading the paper is a frickin drag.

My friend, Janet, called me yesterday pissed off because the Democtrats have no backbone. She’s a reporter. She deals with this stuff all the time. She was spitting mad, I could hear it in the way she said hello. For a second I thought she was mad at me.

“Did you hear what the House passed on the healthcare reform?” She knows I don’t pay enough attention to the news and this bothers her, but when I said no she continued without saying anything about my living under a rock.

“The democrats are frickin’ weak. I swear I’m starting to respect the Republicans. At least they stick to principal. Democrats are lame. They set the bar so low.

“Democrats actually voted for the bill because it excludes abortion. Government-subsidized insurance will NOT cover abortion. This is the biggest setback for women in a long, long time.
“The problem is all the hateful people who want what we don’t want are so organized. Hoards of people show up in Congress with blood and fetuses on their bodies. They lobby. They raise money. What is wrong with women’s organizations? As far as I’m concerned, they’ve lost.

“And Nancy Pellosi, the Democratic Female Speaker of the House, she needs to be voted out. What good is she? Okay she fought against banning abortion, but she failed. No one followed her. She is not a leader. She sucks!

“There were no Democrats who had the guts or the intelligence to say, you know what, imposing morality on healthcare is wrong! NO one did that effectively.”

“Oh shit,” I said.

“There’s this Democtratic Florida congresswoman, Suzanne Kosmas, who didn’t vote for the bill because she’s afraid she won’t get reelected. She’s a democrat!”

“Maybe she disagreed with the abortion ban?”

“NO, that’s not it. She’s cow-towing to her conservative constituency. I want to call her up. I want to say, what are you doing in Congress? Do you care about actually doing something or just getting reelected?”

“Call her,” I said. “Yes, ask her that.”

Janet got another call and hung up without saying goodbye.

I have a friend who has a friend who doesn’t believe the Holocaust happened.  She thinks movies like The Reader are Jewish propaganda films.  How can she deny this?

 

I don’t usually watch Oprah.  I hardly ever watch TV, but when Victoria moved in, the TV and the TIVO came too.  I know it’s cliche’ and snobby to be one of those TV bashers, but I really don’t like it.  And it’s not so much because TV shows are really a vehicle for commercials and reveal some of the worst of America–capitalism and greed to the excess.   I don’t like that part of TV, but I mostly just don’t like the shows.  I have no patience for them.  They’re bad.  Truth is, I wish I liked TV.  I need a pop cultural education really bad and with the Animal Channel and Cable, I know there’s plenty of good stuff to watch.  Well, that’s what Victoria says.  

So last night, when Victoria started watching Oprah shows that she had recorded on TIVO, I watched too.  

It’s been weeks since the election, but we watched the day after the election Oprah show.   Oprah was wearing a T-shirt that said, “Hope Won.”  She carried an American flag.  U.S. Rep. John Lewis was on talking about his journey.  He was there in Alabama, standing next to Martin Luther King and he was beaten bloody by white cops during the freedom rides more than 45 years ago.  He said he has believed in King’s dream all these years.  

We fast forwarded and watched the next Oprah with Will Smith.  Smith said he loved America.  He talked about how much it has done for him, a black man who is now a big star and I saw it too.  America IS the place where dreams come true.  I’m white, I know.  And I was born into privilege.  I was born in America.

Before November 4 2008, I would have watched Oprah and thought of all the things I don’t like about America.  I have dreamed of a more European America, where people share, where integrity of place and quality of life are more important than buying the most expensive car.  But I watched Oprah and I felt pride and hope for the first time.  I didn’t realize before how much I didn’t like not liking my country.  I guess that’s what TV is for.  

 

 She said yes.

 But there’s trouble.  Californians have a ballot initiative that could ruin it for me.  Go to No on 8  and make a donation, if you can.  If California loses, we all lose.

And here in Florida, Proposition 2 puts anti-gay marriage bullshit into the Florida Constitution before it’s even legal.  Florida Red & Blue’s doing a huge ad campaign to help stop the hatred from becoming law. But they need money too. 

We can win this, I think.  Mombian.com got more than 400 bloggers to blog about it.  Wednesday was Write to Marry Day.  I’m a little late, but I’m still participating.  You can too.

   

 Rachel, from From the Land of Monkeys and Princesses is saving the ta-tas right now because October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month.  Rachel’s a blogger and she’s having a contest where all you have to do is comment on her blog to register to win.  And when you comment, you somehow raise money for breast cancer awareness and prevention, I think, because her advertisers give her more money the more people visit her blog and she’s donating all the money she earns through ads this month to cure breast cancer.  

  It’s cool when people do what they can for good.  So click here.  

 Last week I had the best time guest blogging on Jewcy.com.  They made me like their poster-child.  To check it out, click here:  Andrea at Jewcy There’s the masthead and then my posts for the week, a description of My Miserable, Lonely, Lesbian Pregnancy, and this picture of me.       

Fun, fun. Jewcy.com is mostly awesome, except the Jews aren’t always so nice.  I got ugly, hateful comments like when I said I wanted to raise a gun-hating boy.  How can someone find fault with me for wanting to raise a gun-hating boy?  Well, it was easy for someone who chose the name Crazy Bitch.  Okay, I get it.  Crazy Bitch is a member of the NRA and our American right to bear arms is so precious, a gun-hating boy would threaten the very core of America.  Or Crazy Bitch is afraid that a gun-hating boy won’t be able to defend Israel.  Is that it?  

No.  Crazy Bitch thinks that a gun-hating boy equals a gay dude.  Because we all know that all gay dudes hate guns.  Crazy Bitch said that by raising a gun-hating boy I’d be going further than a Mohel in castrating my son.

One anonymous reader said a child needs a mother and a father and called me a child abusing sicko.  He or she said I should have gotten a pet if I wanted to “mother” so badly.  

When I said that Obama’s community service deserves more respect than military service, woa!  My girlfriend didn’t agree with me, but she didn’t say, “This line of yours, my dear, epitomizes the complete ass-backwards thinking of the left.”  Adam H said that.  

Something about that “my dear” really rubbed me wrong.

But the worst comments came from David, who I commend for having the courage to comment under his first and last name.  I don’t want to put his full name here though, in case he googles himself and finds my site and starts going crazy here because no matter the point he was arguing, he kept saying mom + dad = good, mom + mom = bad.  

I wrote back that if David knew my family, he’d stop saying that.  

Crazy Bitch suggested I take my bleeding heart back under the rock I crawled out from.  

Believe me, Crazy Bitch, after these comments, I wish I could.

 

     

Yesterday I was feeling like a schmo.  Is that how you spell schmo?  I don’t know, because I’m a schmo.  I was thinking about how I should read the paper every once in a while.  How there’s a presidential convention going on.  How right here in Miami there was a local election.  So I decided to stop being a schmo right then and there.  

I wrote down all the candidates in our local election that were recommended by Save Dade and I rode my bike to the polls.  

I told a friend later last night that I went to vote for who Save Dade told me to vote for and she was like, “You’re one of the sheep.”

I was surprised.  I thought I had done my research.  

I said, “Save Dade wants to save Miami-Dade County from the homophobes.  I want to save Dade from the homophobes.  I trust their opinion.” 

She told me about how her grandfather, an immigrant from Cuba, had his citizenship certificate framed on the wall in his living room right next to a picture of George and Barbara Bush.  

To my friend’s grandfather, everything American was wonderful. When he voted for the first time he showed everybody his “I voted” sticker.  She asked who he voted for and he didn’t know.  He said he voted, that was enough.
But for me, I wanted to vote right, which is why I took down the names recommended by Save Dade.  

My friend was right though, I was a bit like her grandfather because I didn’t follow the election.  But I had a bigger problem.  When I got to the polls, I didn’t have my list.

I was standing in my voting booth trying to remember the names I’d written down when a Super Citizen came in.  I know she was a Super Citizen because a.) she talked loudly, b.) she wore red shorts, a white T-shirt and a blue sun visor, and c.) she knew the poll watchers by name.  

I remembered about half the names from my list, but leaving the rest of the ballot blank felt like I wasn’t doing my part.  So I called my mom on my cell phone.

My mom had done her research and I was proud of her.  I was bubbling in one of my last votes when the Super Citizen and two other nondescript sixty-something white ladies surrounded my voting booth.  One may have been wearing a badge, I’m not sure.  They all screamed at me at once:  ”It is against the law to talk on your cell phone at the polls.  Someone was arrested in Orlando, do you know that?  You have to get off your cell phone RIGHT NOW!” 

“Mom, I got to go, I’ll call you from jail,” I said as fast as I could.

Before I hung up, I heard her say, “Vote yes for the children.”