Julie Pippert: Using My Words

My husband, when I suggested Denny's, acted like I had suggested we take the children to a cult for some Kool-Aid. "Denny's?" he managed to choke out through his sneer and horror "Sure," I said, "It's a very kid-friendly place. The kids love the food there." He looked at me as if I had confessed I fed the kids arsenic and old lace, regularly, for dinner. "I. Cannot. Eat. THERE ," he said, shuddering. Honestly, what's the big deal? It's got big booths, a kid's menu designed with actual kids in mind---mine are agog at the choices: mac-n-cheez, chicken nuggets, mozzarella sticks, bowls of grapes, etc.---and the staff actually not only seem happy to see me walk in with a couple of small children, but seem to tolerate us, and our ahem enthusiastic eating quite well. It's true, finding a South Beach or Weight Watchers approved entree is simply impossible, but I say moderation in all things. Eat a little and you don't blo

My parents---well just my mother actually---have confessed that they deliberately raised me without praise or encouragement. "This is how it was done back then," she tells me, "You weren't supposed to build the ego, make your kid have a swelled head. It's how you were supposed to parent." When I finally had---late, and after much effort---my first daughter, all I knew was that I wanted and needed to parent by heart. "By heart" has changed a lot with time. At first it meant, "read every one of the 'best' books about parenting and drive yourself crazy trying to do it all right all the time." I read everything Dr. Sears ever wrote, went regularly to his Web site, read everyone he suggested, read the Best Picks on every magazine list. Both my husband and I...We felt the need to clean the slate, start fresh, see what the experts thought we needed to do to be good parents. I'm not sorry we did this. It was helpful, and moreover, it

This image makes me feel peaceful, like there is order we can achieve, now and again, and things can go right. I am sometimes ovwewhelmed by the people who depend on me in varying ways and to varying degrees. I have finally realized it is absolutely impossible to make another person happy. Veronica Mars. The boyfriend had a baby with the friend. Both were 18 and she died. Somehow, he had no rights to the baby. Huh? Doesn't he have parental rights? Why would the FBI be after him? I am clearly far, far behind on my TV viewing and may never catch up. People know I am behind. They know I hate spoilers. So why do some people so enjoy spoiling things like American Idol for me? Why ruin it? I'm a little nervous b/c it's been a couple of days since a catastrophe occured. I think sometimes the Brits say whckadoo things just to impress us provincial Americans. In other words, I wonder whether they talk that way amongst themselves. Nobody I know looks at me weird anymore, even when I

I have a great sense of humor, really I do. And truly, its greatest strength lies in my strong grasp of the absurd. A grasp that utterly and totally fails me when I deal with my kids, and their jokes and experiments. Again, the fact that this is part of the Western Curse (may you one day have children just like you) that I always called a Blessing doesn't help. Although, both you and I might think it would. You know what I think is the problem here? I make a fabulous grown-up and was a terrible child. Even when I was a child I thought other children weren't nearly as amusing as they thought they were, and boy, messy, and dirty, and loud. The rest of you think this is growing old. But me? I never had to put away my childish things because truthfully, even as a child I barely had any interest in childish things. So why oh why do I expect my own children to want to play with kids' toys? The mountain of toys in the playroom holds no interest for these kids. Oh no, they want to

I saw a Young Teen Male today. Not a particularly rare species, although it was more specifically of the Angsty variety. This one's normally brown plumage was a washed out orangy red or red-y orange, possibly making him more unique. Unfortunately, I didn't have my camera; anyway I hear this species is quite camera shy. So you'll have to take me at my word about the rest of it. The pants simply defied gravity. Tall and reed thin, this YTM wore a big and baggy black t-shirt that he kept hoisting up in order to find his boxers (somewhere south of the plumber line) and his pants (somewhere around his knees...okay, thighs, if you insist on accuracy). He wasn't hiking them up, simply constantly looking for one thing or another in one of the many, many pockets. He wore thick black eyeliner around his blue eyes, and a moody scowl on his lips. Which might have been outlined in dark red lipliner. As you would expect, he had many piercings. He was with a girl, who took tremendous

I had to go get some Real Photos printed today so I went to the Quality Processor. It's a mom and pop shop, not a corporate conglomerate. This is where people who are trained and know what they are doing, know how the inner workings of their equipment function, and know how to develop film, all the principles involved, etc. work. These people are mainly photographers working to earn enough to buy another macro lens, for example. (I'll forego comparing photographers to druggies in this way---working only for the next score---but I'm sure you can connect the dots. LOL Oh yeah, and of course, present company NOT excluded. I sink everything I earn right back into the business.) Since I was going there anyway, I took a roll of film I've been hanging on to for quite a while. I was hoping they could save it. Almost a year and a half ago, I took some really important and special photos. I photographed the newly finished nursery that I spent days custom painting and stenciling.

The current immigration issue is truly bothering me. Our immigrant status (as a family) was quite some time ago. However, it was *NEVER* forgotten. It was a Very Big Deal passed down from one generation to the next that our family was able to come here and find safety and opportunity. We were raised on the idea that the US was made up of immigrants, and was the land of opportunity for them. We were painted this picture of the US as a loving, nurturing adoptive mother. And that's what we believed it was, and how we felt about it. We were to be grateful, appreciative, and respectful of the chance the US gave our immigrant foremothers and forefathers. And now, here, we were to extend a helping hand outward. Further, it was to be irrespective of skin color. My grandfather's father angered many because he included the Hispanic and AA workers (from his farm) at the main table in the house with the family. "If a man is good enough to work in my fields, he is good enough to sit at