Julie Pippert: Using My Words

So there I was working away at the computer, trying hard not to think that out of the quasi-intelligent posts I've run this week---such as "Blog Blast for Peace" and "Does the abstinence message for drug use work?" ---the Houston Chronicle decided to feature for this week my self-indulgent segue-to-review post about a boyfriend from over twenty years ago. (Hi Houstonians, thanks for continuing to tap in. And Dear Editor, I am not complaining. I'm grateful, immensely.) I thought a bit of music was in order while I worked, so I hit up YouTube, which is like crack for iPod deficient middle-aged women (which my loving husband assures me I am, the middle-aged part that is). I was enjoying a bit of Stevie Wonder (anyone want to go to his concert with me in December? I asked my husband but he was laughing too hard to reply beyond, "Are you freaking kidding me? Isn't he dead? Boy you really are a little old lady. Stevie Wonder ." And then he had to ...

Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. If this were the Renaissance, and Romeo was a person, not a Raccoon, I think people would not only understand and appreciate our ongoing feud, but would, in fact, respect us for it. It might lend us some cache, so to speak. Instead, we're just middle class people in a middle class town fighting a raccoon. And, for the record, losing. Grudge had evolved to full-blown mutiny, with blood and death as a goal. Our goals, however, have changed. Why? We can barely explain it to ourselves. But it all has to do with what we discovered after our last battle with Romeo...and our theory about why he suddenly upped his attacks of us...Romeo found his Juliet, and they have established their own household. Because we prefer not to follow history but would rather learn from its lessons Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished: ...

Today I am finding someone with a shotgun. That shouldn't be too hard here. Today we're going coon hunting. My dog---by the way, the son of hunt champions who once upon a time was hunt trained (albeit for geese, not coons)---is in. I'm heading to the military surplus store for cammo and ammo and anything I need to succeed, because after last night...Romeo Raccoon Must Die! In case you missed our raccoon history: Part 1--- Rocky Raccoon Horror Picture Show Part 2---Over the Hedge- A Declaration of War Set: Our house, 11 p.m. or so, most of the house is dark, shut down for the night. Jon and I are working at the computers in the office. Kids are upstairs sleeping. Dog is lying asleep on the rug beside my desk chair. Enter: Two cats, meowily complaining. Julie: Hey did you feed the cats their dinner? Jon: Not yet. It's on the list. Cats escalate, jumping onto desk and swatting at typing fingers. Dog gets agitated, starts rustling about. Julie: Okay I think the time is now....