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Sunday, June 06, 2004

Anne Lindbergh once said that people called her a feminist, but she wasn't sure what they meant by that.  Now I read that Caitlin Flanagan says she's not a feminist--and I'm not sure what she means by that either. The problem is I don't think anyone can come to a consensus on the definition, and I've decided I'm not going to limit myself one way or another.  From now on, if anyone asks me whether I'm a feminist or not--and trust me, no one at the Tupperware parties asks (I ought to start asking, just to shake things up)--I'm simply going to say, "I'm a Dorothy Sayersist" because the following words of Ms. Sayers, which I posted once before, are the most sensible words I've ever heard on the subject" "What,” men have distractedly asked from the beginning of time, “what on earth do women want?” I do not know that women, as women, want anything in particular, but as human beings they want, my good men, exactly what you want yourselves: interesting occupation, reasonable freedom for their pleasures, and a sufficient emotional outlet. What form the occupation, the pleasures, and the emotion may take, depends entirely upon the individual. comment []10:23:44 PM     And babies don't come out of your armpits. . . Uh-oh.  My little boy just had one of his childhood illusions completely shattered.  He and a friend were playing in the backyard and I was sitting at my desk, listening through the open window: Friend:  "Have you seen the third Harry Potter movie yet?" Kipp:  "No.  I can't see the Harry Potter movies.  I haven't read the books yet." Friend:  (Disdainfully)  "You don't have to read the books to see the movie!" Kipp:  (Astoundedly) "You DON'T?" Now I'm in for it.  I keep telling Kipp he can't see the movies until he's read the books because I want his own imagination to take him to Uzbekhistan or wherever it is that Harry goes.  Kipp, not understanding my educational motivations, simply thought it was universal law:  You can't see the Harry Potter movies until you've read the books. They won't let you in the theatre. End of discussion. Now, he's been enlightened.  Just like the time I had to enlighten my next door neighbor that no, at birth, she did not come out of her mother's armpit.  (Why her mother told her this, in the 1970's, I'll never know.) Where would we be without our friends? comment []10:53:58 AM     From china to Tupperware, what's going on here?   Yesterday I went to a wedding shower for a cousin’s bride-to-be.  It was a “Tupperware Shower” meaning we watched a demonstration and bought the guest of honor all the Tupperware her heart desired.    Truly, I hate those parties, and they proliferate in these parts, where you have to go, listen to spiels, and are expected to buy something—whether it’s candles, make-up, jewelry, home décor, or whathaveyou.  I hate them, not because I’m against the objects being presented and sold; I hate them because they are such sad excuses for social gatherings.  What if someone gave a party and no shopping were involved?  Would the guests have anything to talk about?  Would we know what to do with ourselves if we couldn’t all sit around the perimeter of a room and watch some lady talk about her impeccably organized cupboards?    I almost always decline (politely) to go, and consequently, I have alienated many female acquaintances, but as this was family, I relented.   The main gist of the Tupperware lady’s spiel yesterday was pride in just how long she could keep things in her refrigerator:  “I once bought a head of broccoli at Christmas time, put it in my fridge keeper, and at Easter it was still green and crisp!” or “I put my baking supplies in these modular mates, and even after five years, the containers might be a little dusty, but. . .no bugs!”  I could not figure out why she was buying broccoli, if she did not want to eat it for three months or why she needed baking supplies at all.  I think I’d rather spend $2 on a new bag of flour than have stuff just sitting around in my kitchen for years and years.   I did buy something for myself:  a little freezer container for a box of ice cream.  Although I don’t want my ice cream to last months and years, freezer burn and that stale taste always assail our ice cream faster than we can eat it.  For the bride, I bought corn huggers and butter huggers—little gadgets that make eating corn on the cob a pain-free and convenient experience.  I'm sure there was something I could have bought to make the cobs themselves last six months, but I figured trying to stretch out the joy of sweet corn would take away half the joy. comment []10:13:59 AM

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