I had a good Fourth of July. I know that's the kind of opening line that you use when writing to relatives that you really have nothing to say to so you talk about national holidays, but I truly and honestly did have a good one. It's like this: I got to snuggle with my baby (Daniela) during the fireworks and it made it all so much better. At least once I got past that nagging thought in the back of my head that someone was going to come up and light my hair on fire with a sparkler because of my "moral emptiness". Hate crimes and homophobia are terrifying, to say the least (understatement of the year) and as a result Daniela and I hardly ever even touch each other in public. I mean, the PDA is not something that one ever wants to witness but a little handholding is fine by me. Except if we do it it's either a political statement or so nerve-wracking that it's hard to keep up unless we're certain that we're in an ok area. I don't know, you feel like I should have a good newspaper columnist Mary Schmidt wrap-up to this, but I don't. I feel a little bit of bitching about homophobia is warranted even if it comes and goes out of the blue. And now let's go back up that that nice little segue "unless we're certain that we're in an ok area" and jump into the...