The bebe, after a full day of crafty-painty-bakey-cleany taskiness, has decided to freak out just as we were headed out for a ramble up in the forest, so she went down for a much-needed nap, while I settled in to study up on embroidery stitches. Ha. okay, just regular stitches that I should have learned a long time ago but haven't. Blanket stitch is neat, incidentally.
So in a snatched moment, because she's already woken and blinking dazedly around on my bed, I'm doing a bit of quick-typing, cause that way I feel productive like 'something got done' today, even though the sweeping-soaping-painting-tidying-folding that's been happening all morning IS something, and don't let that big ole patriarchal world out there tell you otherwise, womanhood.
Tis true. Even a righteously confirmed feminista can begin to feel a bit, well, worthless, when all of her daily, weekly, monthly tasks at present are domestic, and therefore undervalued by society. Garh. The injustices of self-demeaning are a complex layer cake.
On a more jovial note?
I spent the 4th of July in the United Kingdom, living this life I've found myself in. We took the ferry to Dartmouth. It was the kind of day where the sun shines all day, even though the forecast called for solid rain. You know that kind of day...
We explored Dartmouth castle and walked the beach at Slapton Ley, where the US troops trained for the D-Day landings. Lots of beautiful rocks. It was a lovely family day, just the three of us, and I loved every second of it.
