Queer Query: My Root

Yesterday I posed this queer query:

What is one early memory worth sharing that makes you nod your head and say, “Yep. I was born this way?” What is your queer root?

The root of my particular queerness can be traced right back to… Beauty and the Beast.

The Disney movie.

Just think about it:

A nerdy girl who wants more than this provincial life runs off into the woods to rescue her hapless father from certain death at the hands of a legit beast. In order to free her caged father, she must live in the castle and dress up for the beast who’s taken a liking to her. She dutifully puts in time both batting her lashes and scolding this helpless brute, until one night he gets in a fight with another suitor, ascends to the heavens, acquires spirit finger jazz hands, and falls back to earth as the most beautifully effeminate dandy.

In other words, Belle meets someone. Moves in far too soon. Watches her life partner fend off another butch and marries the fairy when the dust settles.

I don’t know how I didn’t see it all along.

I mean. C’mon.



Super gay.

No wonder I ran home from school most days to watch it.

Other "My Root" posts from my friends:
Bren from Buzzcuts and Bustiers
G from Can I Help You, Sir?
Bee at Patriarchy Party Crasher
Timidvenus at Beautiful Suffering
Let me know when you write about your root! I want to read. : )

A Queer Query

Last night I went to sleep debating the possibility of participating in NaNoWriMo this month. Do I have time? Am I interested in writing a novel? Justin Bieber and Miley Cyrus wrote autobiographies, so I’m old enough to write a memoir… right?

This morning my usual social network review turned up this post in which Bee determines to blog more in November.

Well.

Now.

That I could get into: regular posting, a return to a simpler, more prolific time. And, unlike NaNoWriMo, no one would be holding me to word counts. (Oh heeeeey, 50,000 words!)

I excitedly tweeted Bee to let her know I might steal her idea and the whole thing snowballed from there. Folks joining in, sharing ideas, and generally getting excited about writing. There was talk of writing prompts, blog community, and even media moguls… all of it queer.

Do I need to tell you what all of this did for this queer writing teacher’s heart? DO I?!

So… here I am. Writing the first post of my November attempt to blog more. Regularly.

And in this post, I’m going to set up the first prompt for our little queer blogger community. There are no rules, restrictions, or binaries; just respond to the prompt if you want to. I’ll probably come back later tonight to respond to the prompt myself. Here goes nothing!

What is your root?

I’m sure many of us have seen But I’m a Cheerleader. And many of us have joked about our “roots.” If you haven’t seen it, or you’d just like the refresher, enjoy:



Now, we all know that none of these things made our beloved characters gay. Graham’s mom’s wedding pants didn’t force her into lady love.

But.

It’s pretty damn funny to, as a grown ass lesbian, look back on my childhood and point out the queer bits that I didn’t notice at the time. I’d love to tell you about one of my queer roots and read about yours too.

What is one early memory that makes you nod your head and say, “Yep. I was born this way?” Tell us about your root.


Annnnd... Here’s a sneak preview for my root, if you’re interested:


Now... go forth and blog, my friends! About this prompt or about anything your hearts desire! If you do respond to the prompt though, let me know! Send me the link in the comments or on twitter. I want to read!

Thank you all for helping me get back on track with the blog world. : )

On Singledom... and Why I Need It.

(Note: This post was started way back on... January 2nd... as a response to this prompt at The Femme's Guide. I missed the deadline like woah. But I still wanted to share. So... go with it.)

On January 2nd, 2011 a friend asked me what my New Year’s resolution was. Not if I made one, but what mine was.

Every year before this one, I would have been able to honestly dismiss the question by saying I don’t make resolutions. I’d use my handy, “if it’s a good idea in January, then I should have done it in December” excuse.

But… this year… I’d made a resolution.

So… I took a deep breath and texted (yes, texted… judge all you want) this back:

My resolution is to be fabulous and single in 2011.

Her first response: Aren’t you already both?

Umm… not quite. (But thanks! ) If I were, I wouldn’t need the resolution.

Her second response (within the same minute, mind you): If you met someone great, why would you want to be single?

That, admittedly, is a more difficult question to answer. Why would anyone want to be single? Why would I want to be single?

When I think about cuddling up, holding hands on the sidewalk, having a someone who cares about my day, or arriving home to something more responsive than a KitchenAid mixer, I… can’t really say that I do want to be single. But… that is the exact type of thinking that I want to move beyond in 2011.

The past two or three years, for me, have been a continual bounce between being in love and searching for the same. In love, I daydreamed, smiled a lot, made a lot of gutsy moves, made even more mixed cds, and generally played my part as the 20-something, ditsy in love. Between great loves (cough, cough), I scouted for the next one. I approached women in bars and coffee shops. I chatted with them online. I followed them on twitter. I flirted with straight girls and I agreed to dates I knew were bad ideas. And… might as well admit it, I even found some chicky chicks on Craigslist.

It was fun (at times), and I eventually became that girl with the crazy stories. You know the one… the girl who only needs a “soooo…?” and a smile to launch her into the weekend recap? Well… that was me. Was me… in 2010. But it’s not going to be me in 2011.

In 2011, I am going to be fabulous and single.

Did I mention that? Because I am. In addition to all the normal things like cleaning the kitchen before going to bed, covering my firewood before it starts raining, and finding the perfect white gold earrings, I am going to tackle the much harder mission of being single and being happy about it.

I’ve painted a very impressive picture of this in my mind. It involves me, in the best shape of my life, happy, winsome, and beyond charming as I politely decline dates and wave off suitors left and right.

(In this picture, I’m also on the dance floor in an outfit that I could probably only afford in such a dream sequence… but that’s not the important bit, is it?)

So… that’s what I’m after.

I don’t want to be that girl who is tied to her phone, waiting for a text and wondering what it could possibly mean when she goes an afternoon without getting one. I don’t want my mood to be tied to someone else’s current take on me. I want to wear my favorite underwear on a Tuesday, if I feel like it, because I’m not the least bit concerned about who might need to see them and when.

I want to be the fun, together, productive girl that I know lives somewhere inside me.

And when former loves stroll up to introduce the new girls who are just perfect, I’ll smile wide (revealing beautiful white teeth) and raise my perfectly shadowed lids and mascara-ed lashes to make comfortable eye contact with both of them. My sexy heels clicking as I return to my car, coffee shop, or classroom, I’ll remind myself that my single and fabulous self won’t be angrily arguing something trivial that afternoon or getting its feelings hurt over dinner.

Then… one day… maybe years from now… someone will make me an offer I can’t refuse.

Annnd… I’ll refuse it.

But only so she’ll make it again, with more feeling.

Until then… it’s protein bars, P90x, platonic outings, and being the token lesbian again. I’m fine with all of that. I’m actually kind of looking forward to it.

Who's with me? Any 2011 singletons who (like me) need a jolt of fab in their lives?

Do I have a problem?

Or a really impressive, 43 pair collection?

Related: My walk-in closet doesn't have a lot of room for walking.

Also related: Maybe if the economy takes my job, I can become a reality tv star.



Worth considering.

Help me out... Give me a frame of reference. How many pairs of shoes do you have?

Video Post: Straw that broke the camel's back, I guess.

I'm a rational person. I keep it on the level. I'm not easily chuffed.

That said... I don't hesitate to share what's on my very rational, very straightforward mind.

That's exactly what happened today while the camera rolled...



Sorry about the angle... you got a lot of chest and only half of my head. I realize that... but I was focusing on the icing until the rant began. Hey... I'm just taking my cues from the professionals.

Like Giada...


This chick... (anyone know?)


Rachael Ray...


and I can't mention Food Network cleavage without my nemesis, Sandra Lee...


Holy Cow. Anyway... see... you came to my blog to see what I was yammering about... but then you got the fringe benefit of cleavage. Don't say I don't love you, reader.

Why are dinosaurs green?

Really. I'm asking.


I feel like dinosaurs are green, green in cartoon form but drab browns and greys in the Museum of Natural History form.


The reality must have been somewhere in the middle. If you think about it... the animals with cool colors are the most badass ones... the ones that afford to stand out because if anybody starts anything, they are ready to lay the smack down.


Now answer me this: who, if not a dinosaur, is ready to kick ass and take names?


Exactly. So... I believe that the dinosaurs must have come in some pretty rad colors. Like pink. And electric blue. And paisely (Yes, it's a color. Don't fight me on this one.)


All of that said, I have no idea why - when given free choice - I chose to make my dinosaur cookies green. Call me traditional.



Brownie Roll-Out Cookies
from Smitten Kitchen

Recipe from Deb’s mom

3 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1 cup lightly salted butter, softened (Deb note: I don’t really see “lightly salted” much these days, so I used one stick salted, one stick unsalted)
1 1/2 cups sugar
2 large eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2/3 cup unsweetened cocoa (I used the “good” stuff–Droste or Galler–but I can assure you that my mother only used Hershey’s growing up, so your choice)

Preheat oven at 350 degrees. Whisk dry flour, salt and baking powder in bowl and set aside. Mix butter, sugar, eggs, vanilla and cocoa in mixer. Gradually add flour mixture, and mix until smooth. Wrap in plastic and chill for at least one hour.

Roll out cookie dough on floured counter. Cut into desired shapes, brushing extra deposits of flour off the top. (It does disappear once baked, though, so don’t overly fret if they go into the oven looking white.) Bake on a parchment-lined baking sheet for 8 to 11 minutes (the former for 1/8-inch thick cookies, the latter for 1/4-inch cookies) until the edges are firm and the centers are slightly soft and puffed.

Transfer to a wire rack to cool.

Royal Icing
(Wilton method)

**For Piping Outlines**

1 and 1/2 tablespoons Meringue Powder
2 cups confectioner's sugar
3 tablespoons lukewarm water

Mix sugar and meringue powder until combined. Add water slowly (you may not need all of it) until consistency is right for piping. Mix on medium low speed for 7 - 10 minutes until icing loses its sheen. Add coloring if desired.

**For Filling In**

Slowly add up to another few tablespoons of water to leftover piping icing. Be sure to mix thoroughly before you add more water. It doesn't take much to make a difference. "Flooding" icing is ready when you raise the blender and the icing that drips from the beater is invisible in the bowl after a few seconds.

Royal Icing Tips:

+ Royal icing sets up hard very quickly. Keep all icing bowls, utensils, piping tips, etc. covered with wet paper towels when not in use.

+ Allow piped edges to dry for 1 - 2 hrs to prevent color bleeding. If you are piping and filling with the same color, you can be impatient like me and cheat on this.

+ Use a spoon to drop some thin flooding icing onto one cookie at a time. Use the back of the spoon to spread icing to the piped edge.


Delish, right?

Right.