One of these Sundays, we're going to bring home a big, fat NY Times and a box of big, fat doughnuts. But not today: too cold, wet, and windy. So, as usual, I read the Globe and the Times online.
Much as I'm relieved that the Globe won't be sold, I wonder why I bother with the online version. In case you haven't figured it out, my interests are uniformly shallow, so I gravitate first to the magazine. But in the online version, there are almost never any photos, even when the story is a photo spread. So forget enjoying, or even deciphering, the decorating articles, the houses of "On the Block," or anything having to do with fashion, travel, or food. (And what else is there, really?)
The online version of the Globe always manages to insult and disappoint its readers and I don't know why I continue to be one of them. Hope dies hard, I guess. I know it's not rocket science to post photos, so I figure, someday, they'll accidentally hire someone with a clue who can take care of it in an hour or two.
I did find one decently illustrated article — about disgusting things to do with your jack o'lantern. Believe me, you don't need the link.
It's always fun to read about people I know in the Times. Today, Zahi Hawass, Chief of Egypt's Department of Antiquities, made a splash by demanding that Germany return the head of Nefertiti, centerpiece of the newly opened Berlin Museum. I agree with him: there should be an investigation. C'mon, would you have let that glorious statue leave your country under any circumstances — except being deceived or tricked into it? Way to go, Zahi.
I was also pleased to see Maureen Dowd making sense in the Times for a change. Years ago, we thought she was clever and hilarious, but then she wrote that silly book about the sexes and since then her brain seems to have filled itself mostly with feathers. Today was a refreshing change of rant.
I liked this story about the movies of 1962, a banner year for American cinema. Since we're watching "Mad Men," it's interesting to think about the pop culture of that era since we catch glimpses of it, along with key current events throughout each episode. But, whoa, the reporter left out my favorite film of 1962, The Miracle Worker, which won Anne Bancroft an Oscar. For heaven's sake.
This article on the revival of Shabby Chic was encouraging. Whenever the economy dives, people decide they want comfortable sofas again. I consider this healthy. Since my personal economy has been diving since I got out of college, shortly after the Spanish-American War, my instinctive decorating style is secondhand furniture, ancient rugs, and overstuffed upholstery. I get a little nervous when my style gets close to being In Style, but the Dow hit 10,000 this week, so it's only a matter of time before people will want to seat themselves chicly on cold, hard leather with chrome arms again. My personal decorating rule is to avoid all trends at all costs (unless they involve paisley).
I like to cheer myself up by reading the "Vows" section. It's comforting to read, week after week, about how people met, fell for each other, and courted. These true stories are usually better than the plots in contemporary chic lit. I then think of all the happy couples I know, and their stories. And then I realize it's after 12, and I'm still in my bathrobe.