I’ve made some serious progress on my 1740’s Outlander Cosplay. I’ve worn it two ways: as a straight-up costume, and for history bounding.
When I first posted about the Victorian Strolls I was getting ready for, I had plenty of ideas but hadn’t done much other than internet research. Once I got into the actual construction, things got labor intensive, but it was so fun. Click through to see how I dressed each person in the family and where we found the costume pieces.
I’ve been adding a bunch of boxy pieces to my handmade wardrobe lately, all while not wanting to look pregnant and being a little ambivalent about the style. I saw the Luna Jacket bobbing around in the Instagram sewing community during Me Made May, but it took a while for me to decide to give it a try because of that familiar, boxy silhouette.
One of the things that won me over is that the shape reminds me of an 18th century European bedgown. It felt like a natural stop on my foray into historical costuming.
I heard about Ayelet Waldman’s book A Really Good Day: How Microdosing Made a Mega Difference in My Mood, My Marriage, and My Life on Tami Simon’s podcast Insights At The Edge. It isn’t a podcast I normally listen to; it’s more aligned with the Chaplain’s interests. But when he saw an episode featuring an interview with Waldman, he sent it my way, knowing my interest in psychedelics and microdosing.
Since I started this journey, I’ve felt like I didn’t want to spend my time defending my interest in and use of psychedelics, not in person or on my blog. But recently, I was expressing frustration with the Chaplain about the way anti-drug groups are still spreading false information about psychedelics, the safety of certain drugs, and grouping drugs like psilocybin in with heroine and opioids.
Today is Tuesday, June 19, Juneteenth, also known as Freedom Day.
I found Just Mercy: The Story of Justice and Redemption, by Bryan Stevenson, on another blog that features books, and I agree with most of what was said. I got the book on inter-library loan and finished it in just a few days.
While the book gets compared to To Kill a Mockingbird, I would note that while that book is a work of fiction, the stories in Just Mercy are about real people whose lives were destroyed by a broken justice system – some of the prisoners mentioned never receive justice.
It was eye-opening to me to re-discover the history of racism in the South (including convict leasing) that I didn’t know the depth of. It sent me back to the Chaplain’s post on race. While we had talked here and there about different issues, that post was the first time I had the open window to a full perspective on his take on current events and race in America.
Getting a better understanding of the continuing race issues in our country was tough. I had to take a break from reading a couple of times. The book focuses on the Deep South, but laces in stories from all over the United States, a grim reminder that injustice for Blacks and the poor are not limited to one area of the U.S.
I felt indignant as I read. I hated the thought that one of my kids could be put in the position that the prisoners in the book found themselves in. I felt for the mothers and grandmothers who in desperation approached the author, a lawyer, for help for their children and grandchildren. I felt for the young people who had been wronged.
My first thought was, what can I do? I still don’t have a good answer for that. It’s so frustrating to know where to begin to bring change when the status quo is so deeply institutionalized. Yet the book made it very clear that even when the way forward seems obvious, our legal system is so convoluted that years can pass before meaningful change is made. By then, it can be too late for those who need it most.
We are paying so much, as a nation – in emotional currency and in actual dollars, to support a system that is destroying us. It destroys trust in the establishment; it destroys lives.
It was good to read about the work that is being done for justice, but it was difficult to know the cost which is being paid by those who are still waiting for reckoning.
