Public displays of Portland

I'm not even going to begin to get into this notion that the kiss outside City Hall was our first public display of affection. We're married, for golly's sake, whether Multnomah County acknowledges it or not. I have witnesses. Many, many witnesses.

That said . . . Yes, something feels different. Not because of the domestic partnership. That is a bone, a big, fat, meaningless, marrow-free bone that symbolizes nothing. Except health insurance for you and, eventually, The Boy. (Thank you, pinko liberal Major Media Company.) But this place is bringing something out in me, and I don't think it's just the fact that we're living in a community that is as close to San Francisco as we can afford. Maybe it's leaving our North Carolina nest, maybe it's moving a continent away from our family, maybe it's owning a house or being a parent or finally having no credit card debt or seeing middle-age creeping up, but I'm feeling braver these days. I don't really care if the homeless man on the bus looks askance as we celebrate our silly little certificate. I don't even care if my sources see me catching a smootch on my way back to work.

Besides, I've always felt fairly normal. Stereotypical, if you get right down to it. Two women, two Subarus, two dogs, one baby boy. What's unusual about that?