washwords

I just finished reading The 10 Major Newspapers That Will Either Fold or Go Digital Next – TIME.

Sigh. Time isn’t missing the irony that I read this on its Web site. It linked me here  –How to Save Your Newspaper – TIME — next, in double irony, a story about, among other things, the danger of hyperlink to the print-based world of yore.

Why does it matter? Aren’t I the exact example of someone who consumes news/info/WORDS online and loves it – quicker, faster, sleeker? Yes.

And yet…

I will NEVER buy a Kindle. Nev. er.

I hate the idea of them (sorry amazon), the idea of not being able to pick up my dad’s college copy of Emerson when I study Transcendalists in college, reading and writing over, around, and alongside the notes he took. Handing off my favorite childhood book to a new kid friend. In the same way, I would never advise fellow writers or readers to edit anything be it a two line blog post or a dissertation online only. You must read the printed word. Outloud preferably.

In the above article, Isaacson mentions, that actually the problem is not readers.

There is, however, a striking and somewhat odd fact about this crisis. Newspapers have more readers than ever. Their content, as well as that of newsmagazines and other producers of traditional journalism, is more popular than ever — even (in fact, especially) among young people.

The problem is that fewer of these consumers are paying. Instead, news organizations are merrily giving away their news.

Giving. It. Away.

Why does it matter, to me, personally? Sure, because I have friends hurt directly and friends of friends. And more, because I love this former profession, still vocation, deep in my heart and my soul.

Maybe you do, too. Maybe you don’t.

The tension between the business and the news of journalism has always existed. But, in its simplest form, you can’t have one without the other. This online addict will be resubscribing to some of my favorite publications in the next few days. Just don’t use my checks to create newspaper kindles… please?

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Tea pots. Tea kettles.

Useful little gadgets, right? Especially when one’s sick and sniffley.

[Photo “teapot” on Flickr by Xassa]

In the move, I could have sworn I packed (and boxed and reboxed) at least 3 of them. Yah, in the great combining households after 25, we have doubles and triples of everrrything.

And yet?

Can’t find a one. Tore up the basement and the closets, untaping all those boxes so neatly labeled “give away.” Sneezing and whispering, I would have even settled for one of the many things I angrily threw in tubs, in my “get this out of here! I do not want any of these things! Next crystal bowl or vase is getting guillotined. Don’t try me? You wanna battle candlestick???? Throw them away NOW!” phase (sometimes I channel my mother. 🙂 Hi mom! This one’s for you!)

Still none. So, I’m at the mall, remember oh yah, Macy’s, they have housewares… teapots. Trot along between the ghost-town that was formerly known as major department store, to the one aisle of housewares in the sea of jampacked juniors “fashions” largely consisting of purple beaded tops and XXL “housecoats” always popular with the juniors… and voila, a not bad, pretty cute actually “martha stewart essentials” turquoise teapot. Price? $80.

Let me say that again. Eight TEE. Doll ARS. seriously.

I blinked. Further investigation revealed … it was on sale. For $63. For a tea pot!?

Had I been living in a cave? Was I the George Bush Sr. of my generation and in the years since I registered (for all those agljagjklagjlk crystal bowls), this is now what kitchen stuff cost? I wandered on and squashed, shamed in a corner with the other rif-raff appliances (“low-end mixers, kept farrr away from their kitchenaid superiors; “regular” coffeemakers that didn’t even make cappucino (as IF!), I found another teapot. $59.

I took the box down to examine – did these teapots have magical properties? come with boyfriends? insta-flu remedies? get outta work free cards? Nope. I just couldn’t do it.

Three hours later at a store whose name may have the initials B, B, and B (and is NOT buy buy baby), we found our teapot. a “curling stone” after the canadian sport, though I prefer to call it a curling iron. It’s white and doesn’t quite whistle right and the handle gets a little hot to the touch. But hey for $25, what do you want?

It was the tea kettle steal of the century apparently.

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Suckitude happens
and today,though, not to me,
mommystory, ow

Lucky am I, now
I see, a government job
never seemed so good

Let alone the friends,
my love, my home, a week off
to dream, plan, love, chill

feel better, hurting friends
see the sun peek under cloud
feel the breeze of shade

the healing happens
sometimes, just when suckitude
rages most wild, breathe

hang in, breathe again,
and let the suckitude suck
right out of your heart

for more Washwords’ (and friends) haikus see Haiku You