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Wednesday, Nov 25, 2009
Readers proclaim their love for and loyalty to everything from iPods and TiVo to scum scrubbers and baby blankets.
Jul 6, 2005 | 
It's the little things
My Trader Joe's sponges -- they come six in a pack, and they expand when they get wet. I love them; they're expensive but definitely my favorite.
-- Valerie Baptiste
The obligatory iPod entry
Cake. Fischerspooner/Billy Squier. They Might Be Giants.
Her name is Sasha. She's usually clad in blue, although sometimes I put her in green or white just to shake things up a bit. A bit obsolete (third-generation) and a bit small (10 GB).
But if I could surgically attach her to my hand, I would.
U2. Andrew W.K. The Velvet Underground.
I'd tried other forms of portable music -- my battered Walkman that I bought June 28, 1994, the day I went on a first date with the man that I would eventually marry. My Discman. My Mini-Disc player. But they didn't have the range, the scope that Sasha has.
Def Leppard. U2 (again). Garbage.
Back then, if I had to listen to, say, "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" by Gordon Lightfoot right now, I'd have to A) remember which minidisc it was on (and since I tended to name my discs things like "Deep Fried Butter" and "Sharp Stick - Owie," I had to know playlists like the back of my hand), B) find the disc, and C) put the disc in the minidisk player, usually while trying to drive a car at the same time. Not the easiest thing.
Stone Temple Pilots. The Farm. Three Dog Night.
Now, of course, it's just spin the wheel, push the button, and legend lives on from the Chippewa on down to the big lake they call Gitchee Gumee.
The Police. U2. (I have a lot of their songs.) Hum.
Instant gratification, the likes of which were never before musically available. A radio station without DJs, without commercials, one that plays only the music you really, really like.
The Soundtrack of Our Lives. The Smithereens. Liz Phair.
I never would've made it through "Wuthering Heights" if it hadn't been for Sasha.
Soul Coughing. Donna Summer. The Monkees.
How many songs can I squeeze in before I have to cross the threshold of work?
The March Violets. Yvonne Elliman. The Beatles. Jesus Jones.
-- Whitney Fitzgerald Freemesser
The obligatory TiVo entry
I'm a techno nut, a gadget geek, and anything else you want to call me. I've got an iPod and an iPod Shuffle; I wore out my Treo300 and upgraded to the Treo600, which I use as a modem for my laptop. I've got three computers in my office running three different operating systems (and I'm a pastor, not an I.T. guy). Spare wires in my basement are as common as extra zeros in defense contractors' budgets.
But the gadget that I love the most, which brings the most joy to my otherwise average life, must be the TiVo.
I remember seeing an ad for it late, late one night several years ago and thinking it sounded cool -- but it wasn't until recently that I actually had the opportunity to own one.
We have the DirecTiVo (DirecTV and TiVo in one) which allows you to tape two shows at once (or watch one and tape another). It's been upgraded to 240 hours and is jampacked with goodness.
Going on vacation? No worries, TiVo will take care of you. Didn't know that USA finally had a new episode of "Monk" on tonight? TiVo knows. Forgot that it was Tuesday and "Queer Eye" was on? TiVo remembers. "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition" is on, but you're more in the mood for "Desperate Housewives"? TiVo won't even tell anyone that you put a socially acceptable soap opera ahead of the betterment of needy people's lives for just one hour.
My ever-patient wife, who lovingly puts up with my technoclivities, even loves the TiVo. Her parents came to visit, saw it, learned it, loved it, went home and traded their cable in for DirecTiVo. Now her mom, who could never work the VCR, never misses her favorite shows.
I gain hours each month, given that 15 minutes of every hour of TV is commercials, and I can skip merrily past them. And I never find myself watching a "Charlie's Angels" rerun because there's nothing else on.
Lord help me, but I just love my TiVo.
-- TjL
