August 22, 2010
I found myself on page E3 of the Sunday Journal-Star this morning. It’s not often I find myself in that section. After all, Prairie Lane, while homey and craftsy, is, well, homey and craftsy—two things I clearly am not. Yet, there I was, nodding happily as I read Lorene Bartos’ “Housewise” column, finally realizing why my drinking glasses just weren’t coming out clean these days!
Because of a new dishwasher-detergent industry regulation, since July 1, phosphates are out. That means my glasses are coming out of the dishwasher looking like they just came down with a case of cataracts. But so are everyone else’s. Which really is the point, when you think about it. I mean, if it’d only been my glasses that were growing milky, then this would be personal.
I think it was the first time I’d really found myself on E3, a page I usually skip over entirely. One reason I skip it is because of those before/after photos of revamped rooms. More often than not, I find myself preferring the “before” over the “after,” and, frankly, it just got a bit embarrassing to realize the extent of my interior-design ignorance. So I just quit looking.
The sections of a Sunday newspaper can offer great insights into where we are in our lives. The order in which we read those sections often reflects the priorities and preferences of our days. If I handed a paper to each of my journalism students on the first day of school and gave them the instruction of spending the next 30 minutes reading that paper, I’d learn a great deal about them. By the end of those 30 minutes, I’d know whom my Sports editor and Opinions editor would be. I’d have a good idea who would make a good artist, a good photographer. I might even know who’s got a sick family member or who is in need of some extra cash, given how they navigate their paper.
I can’t go out into the world before reading my newspaper each morning. That must be why I keep getting up earlier and earlier. Fortunately, I’ve got the world’s greatest newspaper carrier, which means that, even at 4:30, I can open my front door and find that delectable collection of tales and sales tucked neatly into its plastic sheath, sometimes still warm from the presses, like fresh-baked cookies. I pull it out gently, toss aside the plastic for a future dog walk, and move into the library, where I turn on the lamp, open the back door a crack to let in a little fresh air, and settle in with my paper. Before reading it, though, I quickly move Section B (the Local) to the bottom of the pile, so that I may end with my favorite stuff. It’s one of the few times in my life when I actually practice a little delayed gratification.
That order may change a bit, though, now that volleyball season has begun. There will be days when I slowly build up to that section, anticipating and savoring each bump, set and spike that awaits me. Each summer, when Mark and I get to spend some days together, it is the want-ad section that dangles itself in front of our eyes, the crossword and cryptoquote that sing their siren songs to us. Come winter, when the call of a good blanket and fire takes center stage, I’ll anticipate the Wednesday paper, when recipes hold promise of warming up my insides.
Ah, but I wander. Mostly, I’m in denial this morning, because I’m a bit stumped by the NYT crossword. Having made my first run through, I see far more blank space than blue ink. Time to revisit those devilish clues, my mind once again fresh and open to possibilities.
Knew I was a lot of different things...but never knew I was a lexile until you wrote this! Another adjective for me to use to describe myself! Again you educate the masses!
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