Hints from Heloise

Yet one more sign of my advancing age is the fact that I read a newspaper every morning, and more and more people find that strange. "You do know you can get it free online," says my son. "You know you could set up your computer so you receive news updates all day long," suggests my niece.

Sigh. I'm old. I like the feel of a newspaper. I like the size of a newspaper. I like the juxtapositions produced by the layout--the ad for the Weight Loss Center up against the headline "Famine Looms in Niger," for example. I like the calming morning routine: separating the sections, lining them up in order of interest (National and International News, State and Local News, People; Sports set aside for Keith; Classified, Business, and Automotive straight to the recycling bin), and settling down a quick read-thru before work, and then coming back for a more leisurely stroll during lunch.

But, I have to admit, that this past year, my "quick read-thru" of those first two news sections has been, well, quick. Really quick. I scan the headlines, moan, feel guilty about not reading more, not doing more, not somehow someway making decent health care available for all--and then I take a huge gulp of hot tea, flip the news sections out of the way, and immerse myself in People. First the comics, I confess. And then a look at the front page to see if I know any of the People, and then, yes, oh yes, Hints from Heloise.

I love Heloiseland. I love a world where every problem can be solved with a quarter cup of bleach dissolved in water or a few rounds in the dryer with a damp washcloth. But I love Heloise even more. I love her enthusiastic, affirming response to every query--"Oh, no problem at all, H.L.! Dissolve a teaspoon of baking soda in a solution of vinegar, dab and pat, dab and pat, and in no time, all that vomit Uncle Ed left on your new sofa will be gone." And somehow, you just feel confident that Uncle Ed is going to be just fine, too. That's the way it is in Heloiseland. As long as you've got your bleach, baking soda, vinegar, and a set of plastic tubs and bags of varying sizes, you can conquer the world. And the world you conquer will be a beautiful place. As well as hygienic and economical.

Heloise's responses to readers' suggestions are the key to Heloiseland. Most of these suggestions are either mind-bogglingly obvious-- "I save those plastic tubs that whipped butter and sour cream come in, and use them for storing leftovers--so much cheaper than buying that expensive Tupperware!"--or just ridiculous in terms of effort vs. achievement-- "Don't throw away those bottle tops! I save them, sterilize them with bleach, flatten them out [I find a hammer works just fine for this step], use my husband's drill to make a hole as near to the edge as possible, and sew them together to make trivets and placemats--so cost-effective!" But Heloise never snorts with contemptuous laughter at these suggestions. Heloise is not like me. Heloise is a Good Person. She welcomes each and every suggestion as yet another contribution to building Heloiseland.

Someday, I am going to be just like Heloise. I am going to be enthusiastic and affirming. I am going to wipe down my counters regularly with a homemade bleach infusion. I am going to spraypaint pine cones for an inexpensive holiday decoration. I am going to freeze homemade cookies in small batches so I always have some on hand when a neighbor drops by unexpectedly. I am going to be a Really Good Person. Someday.