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10/10: Do Recommend

This is evidently what happens when I haven’t been able to dance—or do much of anything else—for more than a week, but I’m finally feeling well enough to do more than play “match 3” games on my tablet and sleep. 

I read.

(Okay, I read anyway; I’m a compulsive reader.)

Specifically, I fall down rabbit holes all over the Internet, then find myself googling related or semi-related things and falling down, I don’t know, jackrabbit holes. The game is afoot, but I’m cozily tucked up in its living room.

Anyway, I just happened upon a Ravishly post titled, “I’m Not A Stay-At-Home-Mom, I’m A Queer Housewife, Thanks.

I was going to write something about the same basic topic (except, like, I tend to call myself a “homemaker,” because people still be like, “Wait, you’re a boy, you can’t use ‘-wife'” and arguing about it is tiresome, and for all that my cat thinks he’s human and would happily ride around in a baby carrier all day if I got him one, I don’t have kids), but,  y’all, Ravishly’s Katherine DM Clover has pretty much covered it (without even invoking the Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis, which has depressingly little to do with Star Trek: The Next Generation).

So, in short, since this is a dance blog and you may not be super-interested in sociology, I’m not gonna be like OMG GO READ THIS AND THEN WRITE ME A 500-WORD ESSAY AND I EXPECT YOU TO TURN IT IN BY MONDAY, I’m putting it out here, because you might be interested in dance and sociology, and even in the power of language, so why not?

I also enjoyed a post about fancy food, to which I can say: yes, for the love of all that is holy, I’m having a hard enough time mastering Homemaking 101 without delving into the arcane waters of Organic Quinoa Coffee Flour and Martha Stuart Everything (and also, while I’m at it, why is almost everything they print in Real Simple actually really freaking complicated?). 

I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying Organic Quinoa Coffee Flour is inherently bad — just, like, baby steps, y’all. Baby steps. At least for me. Because I was raised by cats.

Um, I’ll be over here, trying to devise yet another system to keep from getting behing on the household book-keeping.

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