Dream of the night before last:

I am pregnant, so I buy a pair of athletic shoes to accommodate my heaviness and my swollen feet and ankles. The shoes are bright orange.

The people I am hanging out with are in some kind of new age yoga community. One person says to me, “How could you buy those shoes? You know they were made with sweatshop labor under terrible working conditions.”

I reply, “well excuuuuse me. I’m pregnant and I make $2000 a month. How am I supposed to afford a politically correct pair of shoes?”

This dream reminds me of something I witnessed at one of the peace marches early this year. Two big working-class guys walked past a group of anti-sweatshop protesters. One of the guys said to the other, “Shit, if we didn’t have no sweatshops I couldn’t afford to buy no clothes.”

Therein lies the quandary.