It's the best I could do for hedgehogs
I had to get out of bed promptly this morning, since the electrician was scheduled to come romping through the living room in which I was sleeping at approximately eight. I rose slowly to a state of semi-consciousness and then relocated to my parent's generously offered bed in order to
hallucinate dream. Very weird dream, but then, aren't they all? The fire-eaters were interesting, especially in conjunction with the midwives. How very amusing to interpret.
We were supposed to go across the bridge to New Jersey and spend some time with Model Man's parents, but got a call at the last minute saying that his mother was not feeling well enough for visitors. I'm guessing they finally broke out the oxygen today. I am sincerely hoping that this is just over-tiredness from all the wedding hoopla; I don't want to have to come East for a funeral any time soon. Not for Barbara.
In the absence of anything concrete to do, we took Middlest and Littlest (Bigglest spent the day with
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
smplmn's parents) to one of our favorite local playgrounds. The place was built as a memorial to a single mother and her daughter who were kidnapped and brutally killed; in response to the horror the community pulled together and erected one of the loveliest playgrounds I've ever been in. And the slides are killer. Because of the holiday the place was just crawling, too, which is the way it should be.
smplmn and the Penguin packed up after we got home and headed into the city -- Monday Night Football with the Eagles. They went in early to see the ESPN broadcast. They won't be back until whenever. My parents are out at rehearsals and meetings, and Middlest and Littlest are knee-deep in the modeling clay which my mother has thoughtfully provided. I'm knitting, having finally finished winding skein no. 7 into a ball. Three more to go, as I hit those colors in the sleeves.
I'm reading
Lakota Woman, by Mary Crow Dog. It's an autobiography, and even though I shouldn't, shouldn't,
should not be surprised, I'm having to take it in small doses because it's pretty shattering. Something about involuntary sterilizations, for one thing, hits me right where I live, no matter how many times I hear it or how deeply I understand that this is the simple truth. And that's not the half of it.
History. When my American History class studied the sixties, we didn't hear much about African-Americans except for the civil rights movement. Ignore Black Power, please. But we didn't hear *anything* about the American Indian Movement, or Red Power. This is not new to me, either -- these days I'm on the watch to learn things that were left out of my history classes because they were inconvenient. But it does make me angry.
I have a question for myself, these days. I'm angry, I'm guilty (not a particularly helpful emotion, really.) Soooo ... watcha gonna do about it? Thinking ...
