It must be...

A long time ago, in the magical decade known as the 90's, my then future hubby and I had a talk about the way things might be were we to come to a more permanent arrangement. At this point, we completely dropped the pretense that our relationship was a fling, the word "love" had been uttered in moments of both high emotion (ahem, it was college) and calm. At this point we both knew, as Ming Ming the Duck might say:

One of the things my hubby wanted was a kosher home. Sure, I thought. Not such a big deal not to have cheese on everything and hey, if I only ate bacon outside the house, that would be a good way to limit at least one really unhealthy food I liked. But there's kosher and then there's Passover kosher.

I loathe Passover.

There, I've said it.

OK, I don't hate the holiday itself. And a lot of the food is good. But the whole house, especially the kitchen, needs deep cleaning. The daily meat and dairy dishes need to be swapped out for special ones that have never touched chamtez (leavened bread) or stuff that's even chametz like. Besides the regular rules, there's no bread, no corn, nothing made on machinery that might have touched bread or corn (we even have to get new salt, pepper, sugar and oils because of that). No pasta except for stuff made from matzoh meal. But most of all, there's no beans and no rice.

NO RICE. AT ALL. FOR ANY MEAL.

Even people on hard core no-gluten diets get rice! Why can't I have rice? There's no leavening in rice. Rice is just sitting there, minding it's own business, being a beloved staple of many different world cuisines...except ancient Hebrew! I'm sure Moses didn't even know rice existed. Why is it on the banned list?!?!? It's not on the no list for Sephardic Jews. Why can't be be Sephardic instead of Askenzai for week? They get to have rice and I'm sure I have ancestors from Spain (that's what my mom says).

One of the worst fights my hubby and I ever had was just before Passover. I spent the day cleaning with little children underfoot and he suggested we go out to eat so as not to have to redo any of the work I already got done. I said, terrific, where to? He suggested a Brazilian steak house.

A BRAZILIAN STEAK HOUSE?!?!?! I'm going to have to eat pretty much like I'm on the Atkins diet for a week, spent all day cleaning while trying to keep an eye on small children and you want all you can eat steak?!?!?!

Yes, we resolved things (we went for Italian instead and I went nuts on the garlic bread) but my loathing of the holiday continues to this day.

This year we had an out of town wedding to go to. The weekend right before Passover. And Passover starts on a Monday. Did I mention the wedding was for his side of the family? (My side would have no clue when Passover starts, nor would they need to, but his side????)

Yeah, I went. I'm actually very fond of the groom and his family. His new bride is a sweetie! And I really like weddings too. I had a great time reconnecting with family I don't normally get to see. Yeah, I've switched out the dishes, packed up the chametz, and won't eat any questionable food in the house (outside the house is another matter; who wants to join me for a sushi lunch that week?) and support my husband's traditions and beliefs. Because in the end, he does support mine, even if he doesn't get them all the time. He loves me. And I love him.

But I don't love Passover. So there.

I Can't Wait To See The Commercials

My husband and I work for the same company. Although I work from home most days, I usually come in once a week to touch base. There's a standing joke in my group that whenever he comes down to visit me, they all call out "darling" or "honey" because of how openly affectionate we are towards each other.

There's a guy in my work group (I never know if it's more proper to refer to him as co-worker or boss, because although he isn't technically my supervisor, a lot of the work I do gets coordinated through him). He's been with the love of his life almost as long as the hubby and I have been together (them around 15 years, us a little over 18). And while he could probably get away with sweet talking his significant other in the office, outside of work it'd be a different story. Despite the amazing and wonderful decisions the Supreme Court announced this morning, in the eyes of Pennsylvania law, his relationship doesn't have the same validity as mine.

It's a huge step we've made as a county today, but it's only one step. Heck, there are a number of steps to go with the way my marriage is viewed. You see, I'm Latina and my husband is of Eastern European (Ashkenazi) Jewish descent. Not too long ago there was a big kerfuffle over a cereal commercial featuring an intermarried couple. It seems some folks still aren't ready for that, even in 2013.

My kids shrug when I try to tell them how important this decision is. Why does it matter to anyone who someone else chooses to marry? It's not a big deal to them. They've had the luxury of growing up in an extremely racially diverse family, in a fairly tolerant Northeastern suburb. It's not a giant jump of logic to understand that if love knows no racial boundaries, then there shouldn't be any gender boundaries. It's weird to them people care at all. They also don't go around thinking "I'm a biracial kid" or "My parents have an interracial relationship" (I actually did stop my son to ask that). It occurs to them that yes, their parents are from different completely cultures, but although there is a distinct difference between a Brooklyn and a Peruvian accent, at the end of the day, the grandparents from both cultures just want to fatten them up.

I look forward to the day when kids being raised by gay parents just shrug things off and don't think that their family is all that different from everyone else's. It's nice thinking of a future where there's a commercial with a gay couple and no one thinks anything of it, because it's a pretty commonly accepted thing. No, we so aren't there yet. But we're a bit closer. I saw all the memes this morning, read a bunch of headlines, but nothing quite touched me until I read the aforementioned co-worker's/ boss's facebook status:

June 26th. History has been made. Thank you.

I cried a bit when I read that. Hell, I'm misting up now just re-typing it. Because in the end, it's really all the same love.