The stop watch

Or, curmudgeon strikes again.

I have a treadmill, a lightweight thing which takes up as little space as it can while still being functional. It's over a year old and so has started misbehaving. (There may not be an app for that, but there's bound to be a time-limit on a chip.) Its misbehavior centers on not showing me how far I've treaded once we get into the 1.5 miles range. Nor will it easily let me see my time. It's stuck on some number at the bottom which I think is supposed to be my heartbeat except I'm not even touching the monitor. Too many gizmos on this lightweight machine.

But that's not the problem. I thought if I bought a stop watch and affixed it with Velcro to the machine, then I could estimate when to speed up (from 4.0 to 4.7 mph over the course of exercise) and be done with it. I would win; the treadmill would not.

Well, the treadmill may not be winning, but the stop watch has a good chance.

All I wanted was a stop watch. That's all it had to do: zero out, click on, give me a readout in minutes and seconds, click off, zero out. Simple really.

Or not. I took myself to Walmart where I found two, one in the watch department, one in the sports. They were both $10. The sports department one seemed to be a simpler operation and therefore more suitable until I took it up to the watch department and found that the latter's choice had a back light button.

My exercise room is dark except for the light from the TV and the stubborn treadmill display. I needed the backlight, which determined my choice.

The instructions never said a word--not one--about how to use the stop watch. Instead it was all about pushing button S3 so many times to bring up the date and button S2 to set it. And it didn't work. Those were not the instructions for the stop watch I had bought! Plus, I didn't want the date! Or the day of the week, or the time. I wanted a stop watch!

Then, through a miracle (or just pushing enough buttons before I took the thing back and held out for a sports equipment store), I managed to push the right combination and there appeared--zeroes! A stop watch at last. I pushed it on, watched the numbers whiz by. Off. Reset. Did it again. Gingerly affixed it to the treadmill and left it in that mode. I don't think I would ever find it again and woe be to the person who pushes S3 unawares.

Beware the hidden underwear

One learns to "layer" in winter and one of my favorite layering pieces is a camisole. It's even recommended in the house since we keep the temps in the below-68 range. That is why one has sweaters. And house shoes.

Layered up, coat, sweater, cami, jeans, socks, other assorted necessaries for public appearances, off I went. At my favorite Chico's, I zeroed in on an item I'd seen in the catalog. That would be the new catalog of spring offerings, but I had a hot coupon in my hand which would reduce its price by half and I was a hunter in search of prey.

There it was on a rack and in my size, something the saleslady was pleased about. I gather it must have been selling like hotcakes. (As an aside, most of the items I gallop in for end up on the sale rack greatly reduced. I was not willing to take the chance with this. And there was the matter of the coupon. Heck--it was sale-priced already!)

But since one can never be absolutely sure of fit, I gathered up another one or two items and found the dressing room. Good-bye coat, off with the sweater, tossed the cami onto the pile. Or so I thought.

The desired item fit beautifully. Of the other two items, one fit, but not beautifully (back to the sale rack with it) and one would make a wonderful addition to my wardrobe. It was even on sale. A coup in less than 10 minutes. Darn, but I'm good! Time to get dressed.

Uh... cami? Not on the coat, under the coat, under the bench, stuck in any of the items I'd tried on, or the sweater I'd hastily pulled off. I had worn one, hadn't I? I just knew I had. I even looked up to the light fixture, hoping to see it dangling there.

No.

About the time I was dressed, the saleslady comes to find me. Was I okay?

Well... I started. She was going to think I was nuts, but I could have sworn I'd worn a camisole. It was black. It was old. It was... as she pointed out when we both stood in the door and studied the dressing room, wedged into the little space on the far side of the bench. She'd spotted it easily. It was obviously a trap for clothing items which wanted to stay at Chico's.

I handed her my ill-gotten gain, clicked the dressing room door closed, and removed my coat, my sweater...

One UP-man ship

I just finished watching UP, the Disney/Pixar collaboration about lost adventure. And life. And friendship. I rented it to watch in three segments while exercising on the treadmill. I like movies in the 90 minute range.

I did spread this over three days, but let me tell you, it's hard to walk on a treadmill with a lump in your throat. The first basically silent ten or eleven minutes are very touching and subtle. It quickly dissolves into a typical animated adventure, which is what I was expecting in the first place. Then, in the last little bit, we're back for more lumps in the throat.

My sons are the ones who encouraged me to watch this, even the one without children. "You know, Mother," one said, "it's really for adults."

"Most good cartoons are," I told him. "Watch the classics and be amazed at what they got away with."

I've got till Monday on the rental. I think I'll watch again.

All wrapped up

I'm wrapping the Christmas presents, actually putting bows on them this year. I pulled down the paper I'd bought over the last several years and determined to use it up before buying any more. I'm sure you know where this is headed.

I decided that I didn't like some it. The scenes weren't right. I think I'd won it at a pre-school raffle. So I set it aside. Plus, some of what I have is thinner than I'd like. And I've had it a long time and not used it...

But I still had enough. If I ran out of paper, I have lots of bags I've saved from previous Christmases.

Then I was at World Market and saw this great paper. Brown with forest animals. Half-price. Bought two. No more, I told myself.

That lasted until I was at Hobby Lobby and their prices are great and there was this red paper with reindeer. And I do love reindeer...

Hopeless. Absolutely hopeless.

Christmas Lite(r)

Christmas comes but once a year, but when pulling down the decorations from the attic, it seems it was but last week when we hauled them up there. My husband stands on the rickety pull-down stairs and pushes large box after large box of decorations and wrapping materials up to me the day after Christmas. I'm on a small landing pulling the boxes. Then I push them onto a half-floor, we dust ourselves off, and wait for the next year. In the meantime, he's carrying the bulky box of artificial, pre-lighted Christmas tree down to the garage for its year-long rest.

Therefore, it's no wonder when I asked this year if he'd like to decorate Christmas lite, that the words were barely out of my mouth before he gave an enthusiastic "yes!" We're not giving a large party and we're celebrating the Day at our son's.

No need for a big extravaganza decorating spree. Not really.

Which is why the place looks a little bare. Six years ago, knowing that we'd be flying to London on Dec. 27 for a wedding, I'd bought an artsy-tree. It's made from three tomato cages, painted gold and affixed upside-down in a lightweight pot. Garland winds from bottom to top and there are lights and fancy bird and fruit decorations on it. It's been living in the attic and took a bit of cleaning up to be presentable, but it's hung with our favorite ornaments.

Then, since they have their own homes, the stocking have gone to the sons. We have but three taped to the mantle, the third one belonging to the cats. The reindeer stayed in their boxes, although two Nativities (the reason for the Season, after all) are on the table.

That's it. At least it's more than the absolute no decor of 2005 when we spent the week leading up to Christmas in London. What I miss most, though, is the garland and lights I put on the stair railing.

So next year when we're hauling things down--all things, as it will be biennial party time--I don't want to hear (or think): Didn't we just put these up here?

The most important piece of paper in my wallet

What a mouthful of a title for such a small item. I got my new one just last week so that's why I'm prompted to write about it.

Once cut free from its postcard confines, it folds in half and neatly slips into a space in my wallet designed for a credit card. I carry it with me, although I don't use it but a couple times a year. Then I proudly whip it out from its spot behind the frequent-shopper cards and lay it down on the table in front of me. My name is copied off, I sign the register, slip the card back into its home, and go vote.

Can there be a more important piece of paper than the one which allows you to be, however miniscule, a part of the governing process of the place you live? You have only to read the international news to realize that citizens of other countries still die trying to do what I hardly give a second thought to and which so many of my fellow citizens don't care to do.

This post might better be reserved for election day, but then... that's not when I received my biennial update to voting place and district. I've slipped that most important piece of paper into my wallet and I'm very proud it's there.

Robed!

Found it--my new winter robe that is. I finally went to Soma, the lingerie division of Chico's, and found winter-weight robes which were not over-sized terry. There were some "velour" type offerings, but I shied away from them. Several of their wrap designs had vestiges of a 1940s movie, complete with affixed belt in the back and lots of fabric in the skirt. They were tempting (and I'd feel oh-so-sophisticated in one), but not practical for my purpose.

So, I've bought my first bamboo cotton robe. It's lightweight, but warm, and is a little bit fuzzy on the inside. It has a zipper. It was so long I had to hem it three inches.

And did I mention it was red?