The Visible Woman...November 25, 2003

Going out of town for a Thanksgiving trip presents more than the average amount of planning and snafus when combined with moving out of our bedroom. But, really, all goes well. And...it's both fun and sad to think about old times. The chaos blunts the sadness of memory.

So...I have to get my stuff together to leave town but, of course, I have to get everything out of our bedroom and bath first. And FFP has a dentist's appointment so he can't help as much as he would like.

I try to stay calm. I cram more stuff in the rest of the house. It is chaos.

One of the last things I move is the Weight Talker II. It is this bulky bathroom scale that is about two inches thick and bigger than a foot square. It has a power button and memory buttons on the front that you touch with your toe. It talks to you. When you hit the power, it says "Please touch your memory button." When you do that, it says "Please step on the scale." Then, after a pause for the mechanism to settle, it says "Your weight is <whatever it is>...you have <gained/lost> <whatever>." If you aren't the same in which case it swallows the last of that. Then depending on a switch in the back, it says "Goodbye" or "Have a Nice Day." Actually for several months the thing has frequently said "My batteries are low" as well before launching into the routine above anyway. I decide to find a place for our treasured Weight Talker II in the small front bathroom and decide to insert the 7 (seven!) new AA batteries it has been pleading to get.

The old WT II was a gift. Not to us. No...it was a gift I gave my two aunts who never married and lived together for fifty years. They lived in a tiny two bedroom house. I'd noticed that they had a bathroom scale that was looking a little worse for the wear. I was always struggling for a gift for these two. (They had plied me with birthday and Christmas presents as long as I could remember.) I don't know what I was thinking with the WTII. (For the record, I have no idea what the Weight Talker I was like.) Anyway, I must have seen the Weight Talker II at Brookstone or Sharper Image, some store like that. My Aunt Mary died in 1992 so this was some time before that. Maybe a long time.

When I bought the thing and realized it took seven AA batteries I decided to get the batteries, too. But I must have packed the thing back in its styro wrapping with something pushing on one of its buttons. When they unwrapped the gift, the batteries were dead. Perhaps it had muttered "Please step on the scale" and "My batteries are low" inside the package. This was probably a good thing because they were appalled by this gadget and it was pretty clear they didn't like the idea of hearing their weight announced. Plus the gadget was much bigger than an ordinary scale so it didn't fit into their compact bathroom. I went to a Radio Shack and refitted it with seven more batteries, though, for which they thanked me but, really, I knew the gift was a bust.

The aunts banished the scale to their screen porch. This tiny porch was glassed-in, I think. It was maybe eight by eight. They kept plants, a toy box and sometimes chairs and a TV there. Their house was tiny. They stored stuff there, too.

At some point I came into possession of the Weight Talker II. It was before my aunts had both passed away, I think. Maybe not, though. I don't remember anymore. Yes, the WTII was a true failure as a gift.

Except we loved the thing. We weighed ourselves through thick and thin (mostly the former). Both nearsighted, we liked not squinting at a display on our way into the shower sans glasses (which, after all weigh an ounce or two).. If we had it set to 'have a nice day' as a sign-off, I would say things to it like "I'd have a nicer day if I didn't weight 175 pounds."

So the WTII is now in our extra bathroom. There isn't really room for it and it doesn't seem to work as well on the larger tile in there. And the question remains: will WTII survive another day when we have a new bathroom? Indeed, when will we have a new bathroom?

So, yeah I'm in a tizzy today but the WTII makes me nostalgic and then when we get to Dallas and are hanging with relatives with whom we have all this history I'm even more nostalgic.

the back wall of our bedroom...with stone ripped off so the addition can be added with a level floor and then that wall can be ripped out...the exposed wall is fifty years old	chaos and nostalgia Going out of town for a Thanksgiving trip presents more than the average amount of planning and snafus when combined with moving out of our bedroom. But, really, all goes well. And...it's both fun and sad to think about old times. The chaos blunts the sadness of memory. So...I have to get my stuff together to leave town but, of course, I have to get everything out of our bedroom and bath first. And FFP has a dentist's appointment so he can't help as much as he would like. I try to stay calm. I cram more stuff in the rest of the house. It is chaos. One of the last things I move is the Weight Talker II. It is this bulky bathroom scale that is about two inches thick and bigger than a foot square. It has a power button and memory buttons on the front that you touch with your toe. It talks to you. When you hit the power, it says "Please touch your memory button." When you do that, it says "Please step on the scale." Then, after a pause for the mechanism to settle, it says "Your weight is <whatever it is>...you have <gained/lost> <whatever>." If you aren't the same in which case it swallows the last of that. Then depending on a switch in the back, it says "Goodbye" or "Have a Nice Day." Actually for several months the thing has frequently said "My batteries are low" as well before launching into the routine above anyway. I decide to find a place for our treasured Weight Talker II in the small front bathroom and decide to insert the 7 (seven!) new AA batteries it has been pleading to get. The old WT II was a gift. Not to us. No...it was a gift I gave my two aunts who never married and lived together for fifty years. They lived in a tiny two bedroom house. I'd noticed that they had a bathroom scale that was looking a little worse for the wear. I was always struggling for a gift for these two. (They had plied me with birthday and Christmas presents as long as I could remember.) I don't know what I was thinking with the WTII. (For the record, I have no idea what the Weight Talker I was like.) Anyway, I must have seen the Weight Talker II at Brookstone or Sharper Image, some store like that. My Aunt Mary died in 1992 so this was some time before that. Maybe a long time. When I bought the thing and realized it took seven AA batteries I decided to get the batteries, too. But I must have packed the thing back in its styro wrapping with something pushing on one of its buttons. When they unwrapped the gift, the batteries were dead. Perhaps it had muttered "Please step on the scale" and "My batteries are low" inside the package. This was probably a good thing because they were appalled by this gadget and it was pretty clear they didn't like the idea of hearing their weight announced. Plus the gadget was much bigger than an ordinary scale so it didn't fit into their compact bathroom. I went to a Radio Shack and refitted it with seven more batteries, though, for which they thanked me but, really, I knew the gift was a bust. The aunts banished the scale to their screen porch. This tiny porch was glassed-in, I think. It was maybe eight by eight. They kept plants, a toy box and sometimes chairs and a TV there. Their house was tiny. They stored stuff there, too. At some point I came into possession of the Weight Talker II. It was before my aunts had both passed away, I think. Maybe not, though. I don't remember anymore. Yes, the WTII was a true failure as a gift. Except we loved the thing. We weighed ourselves through thick and thin (mostly the former). Both nearsighted, we liked not squinting at a display on our way into the shower sans glasses (which, after all weigh an ounce or two).. If we had it set to 'have a nice day' as a sign-off, I would say things to it like "I'd have a nicer day if I didn't weight 175 pounds." So the WTII is now in our extra bathroom. There isn't really room for it and it doesn't seem to work as well on the larger tile in there. And the question remains: will WTII survive another day when we have a new bathroom? Indeed, when will we have a new bathroom? So, yeah I'm in a tizzy today but the WTII makes me nostalgic and then when we get to Dallas and are hanging with relatives with whom we have all this history I'm even more nostalgic.
JUST TYPING Hauling stuff...clothes, supplies for food prep, things to give away. Checking the list. Forgot the exercise bands. Just as well.
		Food Diary. *breakfast* banana lunch [The Czech Stop, West] two sausage sauerkraut rolls *snacks* Canadian Club, water dinner [some Italian place called something like Penne This or That in Synder Plaza, Dallas] one piece of focaccia bread pasta with tomato, mushroom, roasted garlic Today I - felt I ate a lot but, really, I didn't. Really.
		Time flies.... Packing, driving, visiting. It takes a little over three hours to drive to Mesquite with a brief stop at West. Time was spent talking to relatives, driving around the Dallas area, eating in a large group, playing a domino game called Spinner with relatives and a old friend of my mom's who we subjected to a crush of Dad's relatives.

		Reading. nothing much,,,I took along a couple of books about WWII and actually started one but mostly fell asleep over the TV in the motel after scribbling in a paper journal.hFranklin and Winston: An Intimate Portrait of an Epic Friendship by Jon Meacham on bike.
		scribbled in journal
		Exercise none
	. .	My mood improved once we got to Dallas. Chaos separation, I guess, although the preparation for Thanksgiving feasting and the relatives created a certain amount of chaos anyway. Physically good.
	It's a Tangled Web we weave...these days of our lives.	One year ago "But the Internet? It's like electricity...you really miss it and realize your dependency if continuous service is threatened." Two years ago "But I'm not a typical shopper anyway. If I were, the biggest shopping day of the year certainly wouldn't be the day after Thanksgiving.But I'm not a typical shopper anyway. If I were, the biggest shopping day of the year certainly wouldn't be the day after Thanksgiving."