On French novelist George Sand, pen name of Amantine Lucile Aurore Dupin (1804-1876):

To Baudelaire she was "a latrine." (This kind of abuse continued; later in the century Nietzsche called her "a writing cow"; in our own time, V. S. Pritchett used the expression "a thinking bosom.") In fact, Sand was neither doctrinaire nor promiscuous in sexual matters, though she was often inconsistent. Her views on women strike one today as sensible and moderate; she might be called a skeptical feminist. . . . She wrote, in her diary: "[Women] are mistreated, reproached for their stupidity imposed on them, scorned as ignorant, their wisdom mocked. In love they are treated like courtesans, in conjugal friendship like servants. They are not loved, they are used, they are exploited." [Yet] Sand inherited from her mother, who was immensely gifted with her hands--she could tune a piano perfectly, for instance--a passion for needlework, and defended it with equal ardor. Indeed she approved of all kinds of housework: "Housework dulls the mind only for those who spurn such tasks and do not know how to look for what can be found in everything--skillful work, well-performed" (from Johnson, The Birth of the Modern).

And as an echo of Sand's defense of housework, and because I am bad at needlework and have never tried to tune a piano: this is what I made for dinner last night--

Tuna steaks cut into quarters; rolled in a mixture of brown mustard seeds, crushed green peppercorns, and salt; and hastily seared. Arranged alongside baked mashed delicata squash, steamed beet greens, and sliced red and yellow beets; topped with a balsamic vinegar reduction and minced cilantro.

This made a beautiful plate of food, and I should have taken a photo for you, but I was too hungry to remember.