Licensed to . . . Love?

We have our marriage license.

Yep. Two women. One license. A wedding. A marriage.

And, as you know, we're keeping the wedding ceremony really small. The kids, my parents, my dress, some flowers in a basket, a ring pillow, some cake, the church friends. That's pretty much it. Just the way we like it.

While Connecticut says we can get married, millions if not billions of people worldwide, and their governments (including our own and our new president-elect) disagree. In California, same-sex couples could get married for awhile. Now they can't, thanks to Prop 8 and their neighbors who voted for it, and the Mormons who funded the campaign for it. In a way, we're thrilled that we can have some of the state protection of marriage (but none of the federal), that our kids will know we are married. But as lesbians, we have long avoided letting others, especially governments, define our relationships. So, to jump on the marriage bandwagon just because the state says we can (for now, though CT doesn't seem to have any particular threats to our law. But there are always the Mormons), or to invest too much in a law that can be reversed here and ignored almost everywhere else . . . well, let's just say, we are aware of the irony, historical precedents, and monumentality of the occasion.

Lambeth's challenged one of my asides about having a casual wedding, admonishing me that weddings are always a big deal. I'd say that marriage is a big deal, especially for two women in this country where our supposedly secular government defines marriage in religiously-derived terms and only a very few states have overcome that (while 36 states have taken their religious fervor and prejudice to an extreme and outlawed same sex unions). The wedding--the private celebration of the legal union--is just the proverbial icing on the cake and, as they are usually celebrated in this country, not our style or values. I like rituals and traditions myself, but as weddings are a blank slate, have decided to define ours as casual and comfortable, homey even, our minister called it "family-oriented."

Because of course, we were a family, a loving and committed couple, long before the government of Connecticut said it was okay. We've even had ceremonies before--a small gathering of friends in NYC years ago to notarize the paperwork for our city-recognized domestic partnership; a civil union in front of congregation and parents (with 3 month old babes) complete with songs, vows, and cake. We embrace the open-mindedness of our neighbors and our ability to marry in this state against the opinions of the majority of people in this country and the world, and we greatly appreciate our friends and family's excitement, support, and love surrounding our special day, and with all of that in mind, and with the knowledge that we've celebrated our union several times before publicly, and everyday of our lives privately, we're keeping this wedding "homey." (I had said "simple" to our minister and she said a lesbian wedding was never simple. And of course she's right, even our little one has had its fair share of drama and confusion).

Who knows, when the federal government legalizes it, we can always have a different one. Again.