Mark and I bought an '89 Toyota Camry in 1992, amazed to discover that, by then, automatic windows were standard features in a car. Prior to that purchase, neither of us had ever had a car with automatic windows. I remember actually worrying a bit that someone might think us frivolous for the caddy way in which we'd now access fresh air--with a simple move from our cocky, casual fingers, sending electronic signals to the car to please do the hard work for us.
Yeah, I've pretty much been out of the loop my whole life. Lest you feel sorry for me, though, you should know that there is a really great silver lining to my ignorance--namely, I am easy to amaze.
Like President Bush fumbling with the food scanners at the local Hinky Dinky, I've stood, slack jawed and speechless, at similar moments in my life, although I've never held political office, and I know how to sack my own groceries, thank God.
The grocery store still holds mysteries for me, though. Granted, these are mysteries that others have discovered long ago, but their newness to me keeps me coming back. Thanks to my weekly treks to the store, I've seen pig snouts and lutefisk, lingonberries and pumelos. I'm still a bit speechless after having seen brussel sprouts on the stalk (what the what?!). And that sighting was over two months ago.
I can barely read a newspaper without drooling, so full of discoveries are its pages. Just this morning, I learned that the winner of the Iditarod wins $50,400 and that the Vatican now employs a former Fox News reporter (see "Brussel Sprouts on the Stalk"). One thing I already knew about the paper, though, is that it's a lousy idea to send in a photo of someone you love. The "Celebrate" section should be renamed "Celibate," considering how many people sleep alone after it comes out.
My discoveries aren't limited to the realms of newsprint and grocery aisles, though. Last night at a restaurant, I learned that "ouef" means "egg" in French. I still didn't eat it, but now I knew!
I also learn a lot at school. On Friday, I found out from a newly-shorn student that Locks of Love won't accept dyed hair. WHO KNEW?! Also on Friday, I tried my first-ever brussel sprout (off the stalk, alas) and learned that I my farts could replicate a vegetable with amazing accuracy. And two weeks ago, I learned that my school friend, Marcus--a goofball, if ever there was one--actually knows what he's talking about, at least when it comes to weather.
Some days, I long for the smugness of my in-the-know friends. I see how they slink along, all cool and casual, as though there is nothing new under the sun. They are like movie stars, swatting away the paparazzi and the little people, as they download some app that'll point them to the next big thing. Sure, a part of me longs for that coolness, that yawning boredom with it all. But then I go someplace like Rocket Fizz and find a bottle of Leninade Communist Soda and a Whatchamacallit candy bar and I realize how great the world is, all shiny and sweet. Who wants to give that up? Certainly not me.
After all, every cool thing (or person) needs a starry-eyed fan club. I, for one, am up for the task.
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