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Saturday, Apr. 13, 2013 - 6:37 a.m.

The clothing arrived for the block print clothing. I'm being half-assed about the dyeing process (no synthrapol, no urea) and am hoping for the best. Am eager to get started, but I'm not sure I even have the right kind of salt. Q has requested a yellow dress. Color of helicopters to be determined. I had her draw on a piece of the rubber block and then carved it, so I have a repeating scribble ("helicopter") to use on it somehow, too. I feel particularly pleased with myself for that idea. I Just hope she'll actually wear the damn thing once it's done.

Repairs on new house are supposedly completed. Awaiting final inspection. Would like to get out of holding pattern, even if panic is the first stage of moving.
Reading a blog on breastfeeding. The comments-- formula feeders feeling judged, women of color talking about the enormous cultural barriers to breastfeeding, and on and on, makes me wonder...I do realize how fortunate I am, both to have these children and have had such an easy time of it (Q was not all that easy at first, but still very easy in comparison to what some people have to deal with). If you are fortunate in this way, can you ever really fully appreciate the extent of that good fortune? I try to stay mindful of it. I try to bear in mind others' situations, and not let myself think I have some kind of right to my circumstances or that I deserve my good fortune in any way. But I'm not sure that's the same as fully realizing and appreciating my luck and privilege. I caught myself thinking something rather unkind the other day, and had to backpedal quickly in my own mind. About the girls who were raped and photos put on the internet and who subsequently committed suicide. I thought that perhaps they should have been more resilient, more confident that it was not their fault and that all their detractors were the ones who were fucked up. They should have known this. That their life did not have to end; it could have gone on and they would soon be 35 with families and important work of their own. They ought to have held their heads high and gone on about their business. Yeah, I know. Victim blaming again. And so I had to remember how it was to be 15, and one's world so small, pain and embarrassment so acutely felt, and how it would feel to be at the very bottom of such an event. How cruel my peers were, and the thoughts I had had when I was that age and under much less trying circumstances. I am sorry. I cannot blame them, only regret. On a lighter note, I am drinking tea but I smell some other house's coffee this morning and thought it would be a funny story to write where someone discovered that they had the ability to turn brewed tea into coffee. And that perhaps a small messiah movement cropped up around them (on a water--> wine analogy), even though that was all they could do and it wasn't particularly useful.

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