Witch-Wife
By Edna St. Vincent Millay
She is neither pink nor pale,
And she never will be all mine;
She learned her hands in a fairy-tale,
And her mouth on a valentine.
She has more hair than she needs;
In the sun `tis a woe to me!
And her voice is a string of coloured beads,
Or steps leading into the sea.
She loves me all that she can,
And her ways to my ways resign;
But she was not made for any man,
And she never will be all mine.
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I've been adding to that collection of articles, reviews and commentary on The Passion as people bring things to my attention. If you're interested, and you haven't looked in a couple of days, check out Christopher Hitchens' and Mary Gordon's essays from Slate and The New York Times respectively (they're on my earlier page too, but broken up into parts based on LiveJournal's maximum number of characters in comments). The Hitchens is here and the Gordon is here. Also,
One of my most beloved friends made via fandom is coming into town tomorrow night for the beginning of a week of meetings at the Pentagon, but first she is coming over to watch the Oscars with me. And she is bringing the Voyager season one DVDs so that I can see Genevieve Bujold's footage playing Janeway. I've waited a lot of years to see that, and I am expecting to have an uproarious time screeching at the Academy with my friend. And we are going to have Thai food -- what could be better!
About a year ago, The Washington Post did an article on a local couple who had been prosecuted under Virginia's antimiscegenation law, which was the first time I had ever realized that it was illegal for whites and blacks to marry in Virginia during my lifetime -- somehow I had always thought of that as something from decades earlier.
I wanted this in here because I sincerely hope my children will be as utterly appalled when they realize that gay marriage was illegal when they were young as I was when I discovered this. And, related, since I am in a news mood this morning: "Gay-Marriage Fight Finds Ambivalence From Evangelicals", from The New York Times.
I have this on the brain because every time I use the phrase "my husband" here, I am reminded that there is someone who used to be on my Flist who once complained that I use that term rather than partner or S.O. or whatever. And I hate that I have to fucking hesitate before I can use the phrase "my husband" which is how I've thought of him for nearly 15 years. I was about to say, "My husband's parents are coming as soon as my husband gets back from our younger son's basketball game," and once again I found myself hesitating. Would really like for that term to lose any heterosexist/patriarchal/sexist associations people may have, but, you know, I'm 10-15 years older than a lot of the feminists I know here, and it just doesn't have them for me.
Anyway, the point was: in-laws coming, so I had better finish the laundry and do my work!
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