Julie Pippert: Using My Words

In 1984 I was a teen, but not old enough to vote yet. That didn't keep me and my peers from being interested in the election that year. For those of you who don't recall (or weren't born yet) in 1984 Democrats Walter Mondale and Geraldine Ferraro challenged Republican incumbents President Ronald Reagan and Vice President George Bush. It was unprecedented: a ticket with a woman. The nation was sort of flummoxed, and everyone was talking about it, a lot. That was the year then Colorado Senator Gary Hart, former Vice President Walter Mondale and Illinois minister Jesse Jackson all ran for Democratic nominee. Hart lost after Mondale mockery of his new ideas, and Jackson lost because...well, we can all speculate why. History will probably attribute it to his bigoted remarks, largely about Jewish people. History is rarely completely wrong, but it also doesn't always tell the whole story. Once Mondale secured the nomination, he selected Ferraro as his running mate, and the Wom...

My mother- and father-in-law just got back from a trip to Alaska. This past Saturday they regaled us with stories and descriptions from their trip. My mother-in-law might have said other things, but what I heard most was: it was cold . I love cold. I love it. My mother-in-law said that Alaska weather reminded her of the time she made that mistake and came to visit us in Boston in late March. I love Boston in late March. It's usually brisk. That year was no exception, with some snowfall lingering still. We decided to tromp around Cambridge---Harvard Square---because my favorite book store was there. My mother-in-law had slacks, a sweatshirt, and a windbreaker, with low-heeled loafers. She was frozen. Near to death. I, on the other hand, was doing a fair impression of Julie Andrews singing and dancing my merry way across the slush in about the same amount of clothing, minus the flats. I had on hiking boots. "You and winter," said my mother-in-law, segueing back from the Mas...

When the phone rang, I was a little annoyed. I'd finally gotten the kids settled into a task for longer than two minutes, with no fighting, and was actually making progress on my project. "Hello," I said, a little more brusquely than I should have. It's not the caller's fault that I'm stretched too thin in too many directions from too much multi-tasking. "Hello," I said again, this time more kindly. "Hi Julie," the voice of a lady I know said brightly, "How are you?" "Fine, fine, and you?" I said, biting back 'busy' as an answer. "So how are the kids?" she asked, omitting an answer. "The kids? They're fine. A little rambunctious, you know. It's time for school to start." "Oh," she said, "Oh. Right, they're fine, that's good news." "Why do you ask?" "Well, you know, they were over here playing the other day, and my kids are sick now. I just wan...

(I'm also Tweeting at jpippert on Twitter http://twitter.com/jpippert ) 8:15 a.m. about two hours after the first notable rain bands hit: Note the big, brown patch courtesy of the drought. See why we are so happy to get rain, finally? You can't see the rain in the photo or how the trees are starting to blow, but you can see the accumulating water on the patio. All furniture and toys (anything loose) is put in the garage and the swingset is secured. That was before we knew it would be more like "summer breeze" than "evil gusts." That back corner is the pond (behind the bushes, by the picnic table). It was getting so low (the water) that we worried for the fish. But, you can't put tap water in there or it might kill the fish because the chlorine level is so high. Contemplate that one for a moment. So far, big excitement is a branch (small) on the lawn. 10:15 Update TS Edouard---the storm hits Sheets of rain, solid wind, nothing worrisome, but at least some...

On Tuesday I drove out of town to visit family. The kids have been guilting me mightily about working, so I endeavor to make sure each day contains something fun for them, and that each week contains a day for them. As we drove down a major Houston highway, I noticed that despite the clear blue sky, it seemed to be raining, starting with a light drizzle and slowly but surely escalating to a view obscuring downpour. Believe it or not, this isn't unusual here, especially this time of year. What was unusual was the color of the rain: brown, like mud. It took about ten seconds but my brain quickly processed that this wasn't a rain storm, nor was it coming from the sky. It was brown muck coming from the improperly covered 18-wheeler ahead of me on the highway. Suddenly, the loose canvas covering the top of the truck flipped up, completely open in the back now, and suddenly, an enormous load of brown muck coated my car. I couldn't see anything through the front windshield. I went...

On a Monday years ago I walked into the office at 8 a.m. like I did every day of the work week. Never mind how many years or which office because it doesn't really matter; it could be any office at almost any time in the last 20 years for almost anyone. I dropped my things at my desk, and shuffled to the break room for a cup of coffee. This is how we always started our days, especially Mondays, when you needed to ease back into the work "family" and work frame of mind. Everyone gathered near the coffeepot, always standing, never sitting, that way, if the boss walked in, you could pretend you'd only been there for a minute, just getting a cup of joe, not gabbing over cup number two 10 minutes later. That morning I walked in and two male colleagues were standing in front of the pot. They were, as usual, speaking in numbers, which meant sports. Then they said stroke, and I knew they meant golf. I didn't give it a second thought. As usual I had to walk up, pause and h...

I'm girlie. I worry whether my face is shiny (oops, need to reapply a dusting of mineral powder) and my lipstick is still fresh and not on my teeth (quick glance in mirror, possible fast reapplication). I like my clothes to be flattering, well-coordinated, and au courant. I apologize too much for things that aren't my fault and need no contrition. I scan the gossip rags in the supermarket aisle, tear up at tender moments, choke up in emotional dramas (such as Hallmark commercials), read chick lit and women's lit, and leave most of the yardwork and tech stuff to my husband. I am not a big sports fan (excluding hockey, but I don't follow it and store stats in my head like my husband does, and, according to my husband, worst of all, I've been known to applaud a brilliant play even if done by the opposing team). In short, in many respects, I am a shining model of the female stereotype. This has been bothering me for a while, and I've been remiss in figuring out why...

Okay so here is the ultimate irony: Me, aka Wordy Van Wordster, could not use my words due to having no voice. I went to BlogHer '08 with a bad case of the croup. In grownups this is called laryngitis and meant I was often so hoarse I had to use hand signals and sign language. Here are some important and good lessons from that: a. Women are awesome at interpreting and reading minds. If you have to go without a voice, do so in a group of women. They will know exactly what you mean, and if not? b. They will have pen and paper in their purse so you can write. c. Also, women are fabulous at covering for you and keeping up a good conversation so that even if your sole contribution is impassioned nodding, you still feel like it was the best chat ever. d. All waiters in San Francisco can read lips. I had a ridiculously good time at BlogHer '08. Rumors of (silent) girlie squealing and excited hugging were not at all exaggerated. It's lucky I lack almost any social hangups or filte...

Hi friends...I'm traveling for a bit so won't be doing my usual lengthy ruminations about the pursuit of a well-lived life. So I wanted to use this space to promote other blogs and posts. Add yourself, your friend, a recent or an old post...any post you think other people should read. Make sure in the text you put a brief description and make sure your link goes to the specific post. Add yourself as the person who made the suggestion and why you're suggesting in the comments, if you want (so everyone make sure to check comments). Thanks and have a great weekend everyone! Copyright 2008 Julie Pippert. Do not reprint or reproduce without permission. Also blogging at: Julie Pippert REVIEWS : Get a real opinion about BOOKS, MUSIC and MORE Julie Pippert RECOMMENDS : A real opinion about HELPFUL and TIME-SAVING products Moms Speak Up : Talking about the environment, dangerous imports, health care, food safety, media and marketing, education, politics and many other hot topics of...

Welcome visitors from BlogNosh Magazine ! Thanks for dropping by. Feel free to leave your thoughts about my article here or click here to the original . I hope you have a look through my other posts or come back again. If you don't mind, leave a link to your spot and/or your email. I like to get in touch. Many thanks to Mommytime at Mommy's Martini for her sharp editorial work. :) ************************************************************************ Are you going to BlogHer? Just a day or so away! If you are going to be there Thursday afternoon, some of us are going to the Frida Kahlo exhibit at the SFMOMA and then on to Bicuits & Blues on Geary for dinner and music. Don't worry---we'll make it back in time for the People's Party! We do have to make reservations in advance for the exhibit and dinner, so contact me at j pippert at g mail dot com if you are interested. ************************************************************************* Tell me somethin...

God bless Tori Spelling, largely for the times she oh-so-unknowingly entertained me. Let's start back a bit here. The suckitude of this day knows no bounds. It sort of follows a week that steadily drove itself downhill, domino fashion. I started out with great intentions of all I'd accomplish this week only to watch said intentions go up in a flood of water. Just. don't. ask. Suffice it to say, we have to put a new ceiling in our living room. Uh uh! I said just. don't. ask. So this morning, I went for a bike ride to take a box of vegetables to my friends' house. (Also best to not ask.) She made the mistake of asking me that simple question, "How are you?" I told her. Five minutes later I realized my voice had hit a level only dogs can hear and her kids are staring at me in horror. "Uh uh uh," I stammered, "I'm so, so sorry, um kids, I was just, you know, frustrated..." so the eight year old reached out in sympathy and said, "I ...

When Patience was a baby, her colic didn't end at three months like everyone promised it would. My mother and sister, both more experienced at mothering than I, insisted I ask about reflux, again, despite my doctor's continual waving of her hand dismissively. I finally got the doctor to listen and we did get a reflux diagnosis. Ah blessed quiet, blessed sleep. Unfortunately it took over six months and by then we were half delusional from stress and exhaustion. But never once did I question medical intervention because something was wrong and that created a quality of life problem, therefore it needed to be fixed . I watched a friend from playgroup get a patch for a lazy eye for her child, another get glasses for her toddler, another baby needed a helmet for a skull not growing correctly, that baby needed surgery to correct a hernia, this toddler was getting tested for developmental delays...from birth, we learn of human imperfection. Here, in our culture, we don't rely on s...