Seeing Obama surge forth reminds me of the first time I met my ex-father-in-law. A tall white Jewish psychiatrist and a follower of Freud, he was doing his best to welcome me, his daughter's unexpected gender choice, by coming to Provincetown to visit us.
So walking down Commercial Street with its trannies and fannies, rat-tails and sand pails, I tried to put him at ease.
I put my arm around him, "Larry, would you rather your daughter marry a black man or a white woman?"
"Oy vey, what did I do?"
Of course politics are more complicated than matrimony - I think. We are making choices based on issues bigger and broader than gender and race - I think. But still.
The sun is shining for the first time in what feels like years so enough griping. Enough with molestation and dead lesbians. Happy Valentine's Day!
We've made 18 chocolate cupcakes, 18 Valentine's Day cards. We've got pink pink pink as far as the eye can see. We're ready for Valentine's Day, kindergarten style.
And then the sugary sweet-present-laden quartet that is Hannukah/Christmas/Bets' Birthday/Valentine's Day will have passed and while I don't begrudge joy and celebration, I most definitely will emit a resounding "Whew!"
I might even stop short on my path to becoming the Norman Mailer of lesbians, cease my hunting down of molesters and doubting of dead people who ask for money and look forward to spring which is now only 36 days away.
Meanwhile, I'm back to thinking a dog might save the day. Betsy and I go in and out of wanting a dog to join us and the kitty. She holds tight her dream of a teacup Chihuahua she can dress up and I hold tight the fantasy that the perfect dog will one day land upon our doorstep, housebroken, gentle and spayed, able to cook waffles and help me with tax returns.
Betsy says she also would be happy with a hamster or a monkey.
Lucy says, duh, that's why adults choose to live together, because going it alone - especially with a child - is hard.
I say, one day at a time, Bonnie Franklin. Lesbian families are just so vulnerable it seems, to the inner and outer worlds. I don't want to contribute once again to the break-up statistic.
In the meantime, I'll swing my partner round and round, which at our ages will make both of us vomit. You too, have a heart-a-licious day.