Posted by: Jeanie F | November 14, 2010

Newspaper in Paradise

I live in Southern California – in fact, in Orange County, California. Sadly, I don’t live in “The OC” of TV fame. I live in a small suburban town about 12 miles from the nearest beach, and nothing remotely cool happens in my town. To give you an idea of what I mean, the mascot of our local high school is a “tiller” – yes, as in “farmer”.

One of my great Sunday morning pleasures is a subscription to the Sunday New York Times, which Peter, my wonderful husband, gave me one year as an anniversary gift. It is, truly, a gift that keeps on giving. Anyone who knows me, knows that I’m unlikely to do anything before noon on Sunday because I read the NYT cover-to-cover. I love it all, but especially the NYT Magazine, Frank Rich, Nicholas Kristof and, of course, the Book Review.

This weekend, Peter and I have escaped from our suburban burg to Laguna Beach, a scant 15 miles and a million light-years from home. Thanks to the generosity of my friends and co-workers, who contributed to an obscenely large stack of gift certificates as a retirement gift, we are able to spend four days at the fabulous (and fabulously expensive) Surf and Sand Hotel. We are in a large sunny room right over the Pacific Ocean. As luck would have it, we have picked the most perfect weekend of the year for this little jaunt, with high temps in the mid-70s and not a smog particle in sight. Here is the view from our balcony:

I was excited to learn upon check-in that I could have the Sunday NYT delivered right to my room. I knew that Peter would get up on Sunday and head down to the coffeehouse on the corner for my latté, so I anticipated a morning of heaven – the paper, the coffee, and the view. Paradise!

Here is what I’ve learned today – the Sunday paper is more interesting in my land-locked hometown than it is on a beautiful balcony  high above the blue Pacific Ocean. I am embarrassed to admit that Frank and Nick sit abandoned; even the Book Review’s cover review of  Keith Richards’ new memoir and Oliver Sachs’ latest case studies couldn’t entice me to concentrate. Here is my beloved NYT, basically unopened and ignored:

 So – let me extend my apologies to the gang at the New York Times. I’ll be back next week at my dining room table, with a cup of instant coffee and my view of my neighbor’s backyard.


  1. It looks idyllic. P.S. Can you talk to my husband? He doesn’t understand my Need for the Sunday Times. 🙂

    • Give me his number – I’ll have PETER give him a call. Peter loves it because while I’m busy with the paper, I leave him alone to watch sports on TV. Everybody wins!

  2. I don’t subscribe to the full NYT, but I’ve subscribed just to the NYT Book Review since 1973 which must be some kind of record for Wisconsin/Minnesota where I’ve lived.

    • Probably so! And I bet you have plenty of tillers there!

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