feminish

I can’t work out which diary to take refuge in at the moment - moleskine or blog.

I want to write about the way the laundry froze solid on the line this morning (it was minus 4), and about how happy I am that it’s winter again. Sure, my nose has recommenced it’s fairly charming sniffle, and yes, my toes feel a little damp. But Winter’s good for me - or, to be more precise, it’s good for me now. I like the smell of fires, the shrouding of dark evenings and the warm glow of candlelight. I like feeling the need to wrap up, bed down, put-my-head-down, slow down. I feel free to just get on with things, quietly and determinedly; the world is no longer overtaking me with its oppressively enthusiastic early dawns.

I’m grateful for the earth’s tilt that gives us Winter, and for the asteroid (or whatever) that once knocked off-kilter This Planet We Call Home.

But for the moment I’m going to turn to the moleskine, spend a weekend at the Immanent Grove, and leave you with a little link-fest of great feminist posts I’ve enjoyed elsewhere this week:

The inimitable Twisty Faster on economics professor Todd D Kendall’s paper on “Pornography, Rape, and the Internet.”

The *generally-great* Diary of Barbie’s Worst Enemy, on Barbies in general and Job Centre ads for Exotic Dancers in particular.

Charliegrrl getting WHSmith in trouble for their Playboy stationery paraphernalia for 7-year-olds.

And the F-word for a powerful juxtaposition of recent posts:
»Top Businesswomen earning 20% less than male counterparts- £60,000 to male director’s average £74,028
»The first US conviction of a man for female genital mutilation
»Womankind Worldwide’s report on the situation of women in Afghanistan (Not Good)

… the last two put the 14 grand shortfall for a minority of British women into perspective. Here in the White West we get to talk about the icing on the cake, yet in most of the world women still don’t even have the recipe.

I can’t work out which diary to take refuge in at the moment - moleskine or blog.

I want to write about the way the laundry froze solid on the line this morning (it was minus 4), and about how happy I am that it’s winter again. Sure, my nose has recommenced it’s fairly charming sniffle, and yes, my toes feel a little damp. But Winter’s good for me - or, to be more precise, it’s good for me now. I like the smell of fires, the shrouding of dark evenings and the warm glow of candlelight. I like feeling the need to wrap up, bed down, put-my-head-down, slow down. I feel free to just get on with things, quietly and determinedly; the world is no longer overtaking me with its oppressively enthusiastic early dawns.

I’m grateful for the earth’s tilt that gives us Winter, and for the asteroid (or whatever) that once knocked off-kilter This Planet We Call Home.

But for the moment I’m going to turn to the moleskine, spend a weekend at the Immanent Grove, and leave you with a little link-fest of great feminist posts I’ve enjoyed elsewhere this week:

The inimitable Twisty Faster on economics professor Todd D Kendall’s paper on “Pornography, Rape, and the Internet.”

The *generally-great* Diary of Barbie’s Worst Enemy, on Barbies in general and Job Centre ads for Exotic Dancers in particular.

Charliegrrl getting WHSmith in trouble for their Playboy stationery paraphernalia for 7-year-olds.

And the F-word for a powerful juxtaposition of recent posts:
»Top Businesswomen earning 20% less than male counterparts- £60,000 to male director’s average £74,028
»The first US conviction of a man for female genital mutilation
»Womankind Worldwide’s report on the situation of women in Afghanistan (Not Good)

… the last two put the 14 grand shortfall for a minority of British women into perspective. Here in the White West we get to talk about the icing on the cake, yet in most of the world women still don’t even have the recipe.