Old Watch Band? Kiwi Shoe Polish to the Rescue!

My wife thought I was nuts. You know...again.

I couldn't argue with her when I looked at the old leather watch strap I pulled out of my nightstand drawer. It was old and dry. Leather dust came off when I rubbed my thumb over the faded tan leather. Sure, I could have gone down the street to the jewelry store and spent $15 on a decent new one.

I didn't want to do that. I wanted to see if I could breathe new life into that old piece of leather with some shoe polish, some determination, an old t-shirt, and some time.

Shoe polish brought back the shine.

Look at this! Hats off to service personnel who manage to keep their boots and shoes shined and glossy. I shine my own shoes on a regular basis, and I'm glad I took the time to polish that old watch strap. Not only is it supple and strong, it's already shaped to my wrist.

I won't kid you. It took half a tin of Kiwi Shoe Polish to make it look like it does now. Hours of buffing with  piece of an old t-shirt. I sat at my writing desk, watching TV, and buffing the strap. The color is darker than the original, but it has a nice patina.

I was tempted to cheat and apply a coat of polyurethane. That would have given a better shine and added some water protection. It also would have stopped the aging process in its tracks. I didn't want to do that. I have some watch straps that are coated in polyurethane, and I don't care for it. Eventually the poly starts to peel off, like sunburned skin.

Now I'm eying my old leather jacket. It could use a little sprucing up... Maybe I'll buy another tin or two of shoe polish and go at it. On the other hand, maybe I'm better off finishing the last Sexton Chronicle. More people care about that than care whether my jacket shines or not.

Goal Setting, Achievement...and Building A Watch

This is about goals.

 

Why build a watch?

My watch will look a little different.

 

I think it would be cool to wear a watch I make myself. That's all, and that's enough.

Don't laugh too hard, but I won't blame you if you want to laugh a little. I will succeed in this endeavor.

I'm writing this on a computer I built. Computers are bigger than watches, but they're no more complicated than building a watch. I didn't make the mother board in this computer and I don't plan to make my own watch movement, so I'll confess I'm skipping the hard part of making a watch.

I think (and I could be wrong) that if I can build my own computer, I should be able to build a watch.

I have a habit of success when it comes to goals I set for myself. I was an Eagle Scout by the age of fourteen. I wrote (so far) ten books and published them.

Now I want to build a watch. Yeah. I can do this.

How? I'm not sure...yet.

I started collecting watches a couple of years ago. I have several of them now. I have some Chinese mechanical watches, and they work pretty well. I have a couple of Seiko automatic watches and they work great! I don't need another watch, but I have the watch bug so I'll probably keep buying them as I roll along this path called life.

This is kind of an evolutionary path for me. The Chinese watches I bought all came with cheap straps of a doubt-able material they call "pleather" or "man-made leather". Junk. I got in the habit of going to the local jewelry store and having them put new straps on my watches as soon as I got them.  I've said all I mean to say about those experiences.

The other day I ordered a watch tool kit and now I'll be able to change the straps on my watches by myself. I have a watch that needs a new quartz movement, and I'll order one and install it myself. I have another watch that came with a cheap clasp and the bracelet is too large. With my new tool kit, I'll be able to replace the clasp and remove the link myself. It'll be fun and satisfying.

Well shoot, I thought to myself... Why stop there?

All I need to do is buy a watch case, a dial, a movement, a strap, assemble it, and it will be mine. I'll have a Steele. Most people won't know I'm walking around knowing what time it is wearing a watch I built myself. I'm not doing it for recognition. I'm doing it just to see if I can.

I've given some thought to how I'm going to go about it. This is the planning stage of goal achievement. We know that what: I want to wear a watch I built myself. I'm giving myself a year to do it.

Steps:

1. Determine a plan of action.
2. Learn how by tinkering with watches I already have.
3. Learn how by reading tutorials online.
4. Order the parts piecemeal as my budget allows. That will take some time, and that's okay. I have other watches to wear, and I want to make myself a nice watch.
5. Assemble the watch parts and make sure the darn thing works before showing it off.

There are several decisions I'll have to make along the way, and it will be fun doing the research to do them. For example, do I want to buy expensive materials as I go, so when I get done I'll have a better watch than I could afford to buy already assembled? I'm leaning that way, but a wee bit o' caution is entering my mind. If I do that and I fail, I'll have a bunch of high-priced pieces parts that aren't good for anything. On the other hand, if I buy cheap parts and finish successfully, I'll have a unique, but cheap watch. Nah.

When I make clothes for my wife (which I do often), I use quality materials. Always have, even when I was just learning to sew. By the way, I know more about watches now than I knew about sewing when I started making clothes for her. I don't think I want to go to the trouble of building myself a cheap watch even when I'm learning.

On the other hand, I don't think I'll spend the hundred bucks or more that it would take to put a Swiss movement in my watch. I don't have a spare hundred bucks around to play with in this experiment. I can get a very good movement for under forty bucks, so I think that's the way I will go.

I found a couple of sites that sell watch parts. It's fun looking at their selections and playing (in my mind) designing the watch. I want a white face. I want the date. I want three hands: hour, minute, and second. That leads to a lot of choices. I'll have fun poking around deciding what I want.

It's kind of lay-away the hard way. I'll buy the case first. Stainless steel, probably. Then I'll buy the dial. Then I'll buy the crystal. Then the movement, then the strap. Lots of choices. I'll build the thing in my head a hundred times before I get it assembled.

Some guys build their own cars, or refurbish an antique. This is probably a lot like that. It's a disease I wouldn't wish on anyone, but one I'm glad I have.

...I'll post pictures when I'm done. Don't hold your breath. This is going to take a while.

I Have Had Enough of Minor Watch Repair at Jewelry Stores

The photo on the left looks like it could be a tool kit for the dental hygienist from Hell, but it's not. It's a watch repair tool kit. I ordered it today from eBay for the whopping sum of $18.99, including shipping. 

   I have had enough. Enough that  I shall underscore it in italics: I have had enough!

   Don't get me wrong--I'm not angry. I was angered a few times along this particular path, but I'm past it now. Now I'm doing something about it.

   Good things have happened when I have entered the Land of I Have Had Enough in the past. I learned to make bread by hand when I walked into the land of Had Enough with my bread machine. I learned to do my own clothing alterations after a stint in the Land of Had Enough. Both of those journeys were successful. I make my own bread, and if I need to take in the waist of a pair of pants, I can do that. In fact, I can make the pants  from a hunk of cloth if I'm in the mood to do so. I built this computer after a jaunt in the land of Had Enough when me old one died a piece at a time.

So now, in this current reality, I can munch on a piece of homemade bread while I wear a pair of pants that fit like they were made for me, talking to you through this computer I built. I like this world.

   In my wildest dreams and or nightmares, I never thought I would see the day come when I would decide to do my own watch repairs. 

   Sane people will wonder why I'm going to attempt my own watch repairs. It's a reasonable question. Most of the things I want to have done to my small collection of watches cost under $10 when done by qualified personnel at a jewelry store. When I need a battery put in a watch, the lady down the street will do it for $5.00, including the battery. When I want a new strap put on a watch, the store that sells it to me can put it on for me. Fine and dandy...but! 

   But the lady at the jewelry store down the street always puts on the wrong size. I think she struggles with getting the pin in if the fit is too tight. There's another jewelry store in the next town, but I'm no longer speaking to them. There is a snobbishness there that  I find intolerable. I would complain to the owner, but that's where the snobbishness originates. Frankly, I would rather have a close enough job done by a friendly person who tries hard than a perfect job done by a person looking down their nose. (Unless it's a tall person looking down their nose. Then it's okay because I'm not prejudiced against tall people. They're people, too!)

   Today I went to Walmart because I was looking for a leather strap to go on one of the  Seiko military watches I own. I found the right size and handed it to the clerk with my watch. She rang it up and handed it back to me. I said, "Please put it on the watch for me."

   She said, "I can't do that."

   "Why not?"

   "It's a Seiko. We don't sell Seikos."

   I thought she was confused. I pointed to the strap. I said, "It'll go on there just fine. It has pins, like the strap."

   "We don't sell Seiko," she said. She said it as if it made all the sense in the world.

   "I don't need you to sell me a Seiko." I smiled. "I already have one. I just want that strap on it."

   "It's policy," she said--again as if that made all the sense in the world.

   "It's a stupid policy." She looked shocked. I said quickly, "I'm not blaming you. I'm blaming Walmart." I handed the strap back to her and thanked her for her time.

   Now that I think about it, it's probably not that stupid on the part of Walmart. If she damaged the watch putting a new strap on it, Walmart would have to buy me a new watch instead of just grabbing another one off the shelf.

   That was it. That was, as far as watches are concerned, my gateway to the Land of Had Enough. I'm not mad at Walmart. I'm not mad at the jewelry store down the street. I am coldly angry with the jewelry store run by the snob, but I'm not going to use this as a pulpit from which to lambaste them (but the temptation is there.)

   I came home, logged on to eBay with my homemade computer, ate a piece of homemade bread, and in my well-fitted pants, I ordered a watch repair kit. When it arrives, I'll order some parts I need to: put new straps on my Seiko watches, order a new movement for my L.L Bean field watch (they no longer make that watch, or it would be under the L.L. Bean warranty), fix the bracelet on my BSA watch, and put a new battery in my Timex watch.

   I have never done any of the above things, but I'm not worried about that. Like learning how to sew, make bread, and repair or build a computer, I'm sure it will take some time and trial/error on my part. That's okay. In fact, I enjoy the process.

If something happens and I don't enjoy the process...well... I refer you to the photo. See the free hammer? I think I know what I'll do with it.

 

I'm Gonn Fix That Dryer, One Way Or The Other!

It's you and me, clothes dryer. At the conclusion of this exercise, either you're going to work, or you're out. Unless, of course, I blow myself to kingdom come in the process. If that's the case, I'm taking you out with me. Got it? Good.

   Oh. Hi! Ya heard that, huh?

    I am by no means a handyman. We'll call that a strike before I start when it comes to my chances of successfully fixing the dryer. What I am is two things: 1) damn stubborn when I want to be, and 2) durable.

   The results when I try to fix something are pretty good. I have only a dim idea of what I'm doing, but I keep hacking away at a solution until I find one that works.

   Sometimes the results are pretty funny. A couple of years ago I put a new light fixture in my den. I have hard-earned respect for electricity, so I powered down the entire second floor of the house when I did the job. I wired the fixture, went to the basement, turned on the power upstairs, then went back up to check my work.

   The light fixture was off. That meant I did something wrong. So...stubbornly, I got back on the swivel chair... That's right. I was standing on a swivel chair with a pair of pliers, reaching above my head to disconnect a light. By the time I realized the power was on--because I commented on something said on the TV in the room--it was too late. I did forty-three pirouettes and lay on the floor in a puddle of brain goo, saying, "Bzzzzt! TV ON, POWER ON! Moron! huvvuvuvuvvvvvv."

    The problem with the dryer has been going on for a few days now. It runs for a few minutes, then stops. It's like something physical is blocking something else physical.

    I went online and looked at a variety of trouble-shooting sites. The motor isn't burned out in the dryer. I'm pretty sure of that. I think the culprit is lint.

   I washed the lint trap and put it back in. That didn't fix the problem. Then (feel free to laugh soon), I pulled the panel under the door off. There's another lint trap there. It was full. FULL! So I took it up to the bathtub and scraped and scrubbed it.

   If you ever do that, be smarter than I was. Clean the tub before your wife goes to take a shower! She thought I had washed the fur off both of our cats and left it for her to find. After she finished screaming, she went looking for the animals. When she found them, she knew she had me to blame, but wasn't sure she really wanted to know what it was I washed that covered the bath tub with off-white fuzz. No. I did NOT tell her what it was.

   Reassembling the dryer wasn't easy. It would have been easy, but my wife knows me well. She hides her tools for fear I might try to use them...to do things like foul the bath tub with gray fuzz. She's not wrong, in case you haven't figured that out.

   I put the cover back on with a screw driver and a socket (couldn't find the socket wrench, but I found the sockets). I might have cussed a bit.

   That didn't solve the problem.

    I removed the lint thing again and looked behind it. That was when I saw the cone of flame that is the provider of the gas heat that dries the clothes. It glowed blue and hot when I started the dryer with that panel off. I should probably apologize to my neighbors for the girlish screams they endured until the flames went out. I'm pretty glad dryer manufacturers build safeties into those things.

    I put the panel back on. Took me a while with the screwdriver and the socket. I blame that on the fact that I was trying to do that without sticking my face near the cone of fire that lives in the dryer.

  The problem was, and remains, unsolved. I think there's more lint. I think I have to remove the exhaust hose (it's one of those collapsible metal tubes) from the dryer and the outside vent and run a cat through it to clear it of lint. With the amount of lint I washed down the bath tub drain (give yourself twenty points if you think that will be my next repair job), I think it's highly probable my dryer vent is clogged.

   The last time I checked that hose, I found a dead bat. No kidding! He came in from outside in a life-changing quest for warmth, and ended up getting his fabric softened...

So tomorrow, after my wife goes to school, I'm going to remove that exhaust hose. I'll put a bit of catnip in one end and a cat at the other, then go upstairs and pour myself a cup of coffee. If, when I go back to the basement, I see what looks like at least two cats, I'll call the operation a success and put the exhaust hose back on.

...Then I'll ask my wife to finish the laundry.

 

Some Thoughts on Happiness

This isn't a sermon. It's not a quick fix for unhappiness.

   Lots of people have written about happiness. Some of it's good stuff, and some of it isn't. There's no method to obtaining and keeping happiness.

   It's up to you.

   I was unhappy for a long time, but didn't know I was unhappy. I had a good career, but somehow it just wasn't satisfying me. I didn't recognize the correlation at the time, but the higher I went up the ladder, the more I drank. The more I drank, the less happy I became, and the combination of the two led to some interesting--and not good interesting--twists and turns.

   In a path I don't recommend to anyone, I got very sick (Wernicke encephalopathy--which you can read about in this blog). I came pretty close to dying and had to make some difficult lifestyle changes.

   I'm glad I did. I'm glad I got sick--and even happier I recovered--and I'm glad I made the lifestyle changes.

   How does that make me happy? It doesn't. Not by itself, anyway.

   I made a decision to be happy. Maybe it's because of the illness. It might have allowed me to open my eyes and see that happiness is a decision. I decided to be happy.

   Deciding to be happy is the easy part. After that, I needed to decide on the how. My wife, always, and I mean always a source of happiness in my life, stayed with me through it all. 

   One day, while cleaning toilets at 4:00 AM as part of my duties as a housekeeper in a big restaurant, I looked at the Johnny mop in my hand an almost felt sorry for myself. There I was, a man with a college degree and seventeen years management experience, wiping bodily fluids off a stool at an ugly hour of the day.

   It made me sad, for about thirty seconds. Then I reflected on how much I had come to dread staff meetings, and long hours, even for the noble cause for which I worked.

   My sadness left. Maybe I banished it, and maybe God blessed me a little bit (again) that day. I started to grin. The job was about as unglamorous as I could imagine, but I did it and did it well. I found it strangely satisfying.

   I was free! Not free financially. I needed the money they were paying me. Trust me, cleaning toilets at 4 AM didn't feel like any sort of noble public service, even though it is.

   I looked up. Up at the ceiling of the restroom, and then (in my mind at least) through it to blue skies of a world. A world that didn't care what I was doing at that hour. The world was marching on.

   The reason I quit my salaried position, was that my wife and I wanted a chance for me to pursue what makes me happy. In my case it was writing. I wanted to write books.

   It was a concrete goal. We set a deadline--a couple of years--for me to get books into the marketplace. Sure, I dreamed big. I dreamed of writing a bestseller, backed fully by a publisher. It hasn't happened that way, yet. I think it will someday.

I've written several books and self-published them in Kindle format (available at Amazon), Nook format (available at Barnes & Noble), and in paperback and hardcover available here: www.lulu.com/spotlight/Misticuf. I'm not a housekeeper anymore, but I didn't give it up because I was unhappy with it. Other positions in the same company became available to me, in no small part because of my attitude.

   I started getting up early enough to watch the sunrise. I find happiness in watching the birth of each new day. I quit drinking--at first because doctors told me I would die if I didn't--and learned to enjoy sobriety. I learned that it's okay to love simple things. I learned that if I thought I was going to have a bad day, that's what I had. I learned that if I decided to have a good day, that's what I had.

   Guess which I decide now, decide consciously. I decide to have a good day. I'm fond of telling people to make it a great day, and I mean it.

   Deciding to make each day great is an important step, but it's not the only step. Sometimes we have to make tough choices. If there's something in your life that makes you consistently unhappy...you have to change something about the situation. Don't take that the wrong way. Don't march into your supervisor's office tomorrow and say, "Steele says I have to quit." 

   I have no idea what you have to do to be happy. You might not even know what you have to do to be happy. Maybe you're happy and don't know it. Take stock of what you have, and you might find you have a lot to be happy about.

What's my point? Simply this:

Happiness starts with a decision to be happy.

One Elevator, One Coat Rack That Doesn't Fit--And One Stubborn Guy

I'm happy to serve as a greeter in a very large restaurant. It's a fun part-time job. Tuesday night there was a party, a large party, and two people brought an extra coat rack from upstairs and put it in the lobby.

I promised to put it back in its proper place when I went in on Wednesday morning. The proper place was up one floor and at the opposite corner of the building--a considerable distance away.

I knew the two people who brought it to the lobby brought it down from the second floor on an interior cargo elevator. I thought they did it that way because there were a lot of guests in the building and they didn't want to drag it through the crowds.

I should point out that the coat rack is about eight feet long, and it's not the kind that folds in the middle.

I should also point out that I'm five-foot-six and weigh 128 pounds. I'm not a member of the Big & Tall club. Hell, I'm not even a mascot.

Wednesday morning when I went in, I grabbed the end of the coat rack and started to pull. I decided it would be easier (I was wrong, but we'll get to that) to pull it down a public corridor, around a corner, through another lobby, and take it up a passenger elevator to the second floor.

It's easier for two people to move the thing than it is for one person to move the thing, but I'm pretty good at walking backward, so I pulled it a couple hundred yards. Did so with pride, did so with no problem.

When I pushed the button to summon the elevator I realized...the coat rack is longer than the elevator is deep.

A smart man would have pulled the coat rack through a dining room, into the kitchen, and taken it up the larger cargo elevator.

I decided not to do that. Not after dragging it that far.

When the elevator doors opened, I pulled the giant coat rack in at an angle. That put me in the far right corner of the elevator.

I cheered when the doors closed neatly, without touching the coat rack. Cheered!

...Then I realized a couple of things:

1. The elevator wasn't going anywhere until I pushed a button to change floors.

2. There was a giant coat rack between me and the buttons

3. Flipping one's middle finger at the elevator buttons will not make the elevator move

I decided not to wait for three hours for the building to open in the hopes that someone would push a button to summon the elevator and inadvertently rescue the man trapped behind the coat rack.

So, utilizing height I don't have, I wriggled under the hangars and stepped over the boot shelf...and pushed "2" so the elevator would go to the second floor.

Proud of myself, I said, "HA!"

Then...in the stumbling way of a man who has not yet had enough coffee to be allowed to walk around by himself...

...I wriggled back through the coat rack to stand where I started in the first place!

That place, in case you don't remember, was trapped behind the coat rack!

I realized my mistake while the elevator rose. I also realized I would have to remove the coat rack in a hurry because the elevator would return to the first floor all by itself if I didn't move fast enough.

When the elevator doors opened on the lobby on the second floor, I started to push the coat rack out. I was NOT breathtakingly successful in this endeavor. The wheels got trapped on the tracks for the elevator door.

Once again utilizing my lack of height, I wriggled under the hangars and stepped over the boot shelf. I lifted the wheels out of the elevator tracks with both hands and pulled the thing, at a grindingly slow pace, out of the elevator.

I didn't cuss. I coddled the thing. "You can do it, coat rack. C'mon out. Gooooood coat rack!"

Once in the lobby, my and my coat rack, I put my hands on my hips like a super hero and said, "Welcome home big guy!"

That's when I saw--we'll call him "Hank"--Hank. He was watering the live Christmas tree in the lobby. He didn't lift a finger to help me, and I don't blame him. He was stunned. He was watching me with the same disbelief people use when they see forty-three clowns step out of a compact car.

I looked at Hank and he said, "That coat rack doesn't fit on that elevator."

This kind of statement, the kind that flies in the face of reality, amuses me to no end. I said, "Sure. Now you tell me."

I put the coat rack where it's supposed to go, and counted it a personal victory. Yes, I rode the elevator down... I had to apologize to the buttons for my crude hand gesture.

I'm Toast! (Trying to make a right out of two wrongs)

About twenty years ago, I bought a nice electric blanket for my wife and me. I spent some bucks on it. Got the kind with a control for each side of the bed.

I use the electric blanket a lot. Heck, I like to crank up the window AC in the summer and still use the electric blanket. Yeah, baby! It's one of those quirks that make me...me.

My wife, on the other hand, almost never turns on her side of the blanket.

I'm banking on that being the case at least until tomorrow.

Now we come to the two wrongs:

Wrong One:

When we first got the electric blanket, I screwed up when I made the bed. I put her control on my side of the bed! 

I started out with my control set on 3 of 10. I was still chilly when I climbed in bed about half an hour after she went to sleep, so I turned it up to 5 of 10.

Half an hour later, still cold, I turned it to 6 of 10.

I slept unwell for an hour or so and was still chilly. So I cranked the control up to 7 of 10.

I didn't notice she had one leg sticking out of her side of the bed.

Half an hour of the fetal position, after she elbowed me away, I was still cold.

So I cranked the control thing (while cussing through chattering teeth) to 9 of 10.

Then I hit 10. Ten, the big one-oh.

She was flopped over onto her back. A fine sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead. She was still asleep, but her hair was plastered on her sweaty head.

Honest... It wasn't until morning that it occurred to me that I might have made a mistake and left myself in control of her slumbering fate.

Unfortunately, she figured out what happened. It's taken me 20 years to live that one down.

Wrong Two--time to fix the original error:

She still doesn't use the electric blanket much, but I use it all the time.

It stopped working on my side the night before last. I've been cold. I've been shivering.

Hmmmm...

So, this afternoon on my way home two things ran through my mind:

1. I won't have time until tomorrow to buy a new blanket

2. She probably won't turn on her side of the electric blanket tonight. If she does, the light on her dial will come on and she'll think she's turning up the blanket. 

Tomorrow, I'll buy a new electric blanket and we'll be fine.

Tonight, she'll either:

A. Not turn on her side of the blanket and I'll get away clean with my little game

B. She will turn on her side of the blanket and figure the whole blanket has stopped working.

C. I'll get an elbow to the ribs and curl up with a cat on the couch.

Lord, please... Let it be "A".

Found the Pen I Thought I'd Never See Again

My wife knows I like fine pens. I have lousy handwriting, but that doesn't mean I have to settle for one of those stick pens or click pens that make the rounds, often with tooth marks on the end--sometimes from many, many mouths.

      About twenty years ago, she spent some of her hard earned money on a Cross pen and pencil set. They were emerald green, with gold plated clips. They weren't too heavy, or too light. They felt good in my hand and looked good. I lost the pen, and although I missed it, I received a Mont Blanc rollerball pen shortly after that as a recognition for a job well done. The Mont Blanc won a little piece of my heart...until I got tired of paying $14.99 a week for re-fills. They're real proud of those refills!   

   Cross stopped making that particular line of pens and pencils in the 1990's. Of the two--the pen and pencil set, or the wife--I would much rather still have my wife by my side than the pen in my hand. Lucky for me, she's still here!

    Still... I want both. The trouble is, Cross didn't make that particular set for very long and they don't make that one anymore. By the time I decided to seek replacements for the set I lost, they were out of production. I thought I had lost the opportunity. I let the idea go.

   Now there's eBay. I didn't trust eBay when it was just an auction site. I don't know about you, but when I want to buy something, I want to buy it. I don't want to stay close to my computer and try to beat someone else. I don't want to compete for my stuff.

   When I shop eBay, which I do a lot these days, I go for the "buy it now" option.

   The other night I was thinking about my lost pen and pencil. I wasn't really interested in replacing the Cross ballpoint... I'm a fountain pen guy now. I'm assembling a collection of cheap, Chinese fountain pens. Fountain pens are a left-hander's friend. The ink soaks into the paper and doesn't smear when I write. The nib--the point that delivers the ink--makes a nice sound as it rides over the paper. It doesn't slip like a ballpoint, and that improves my handwriting marginally.

   So, with a little time to kill, I stared pecking around eBay. I searched for "Cross Fountain Pen" just to see if I could find one in my price range.

   ...And there it was! Not only did I find a NOS (New, old stock) Cross fountain pen, I found it in the style and color of my long-lost pen/pencil set. The seller has them in green, burgundy, blue, and black. The price is right for me, too. It's a nice pen, the kind you don't let other people borrow or use. I've learned my lesson on that one, the hard way. I like a nice pen, and this one fits the bill: gold plated appointments, and an ink converter included so I can fill it from a bottle of ink. I think I'll collect all four colors.

   I'm not afraid I'll lose it, but I wonder how long it will take me to remember to unscrew the cap rather than just yank it off the end. The good news is that it's a quality pen, and I'm pretty sure the worse that will happen if I forget to unscrew the cap is that I'll transfer it from one hand to the other while looking like an idiot. I can handle that. It's good for a middle aged man to look like an idiot from time to time...

  ...It keeps him humble and prepares him for old age!

I'm Starting to Enjoy Ordering On-line

I like to buy local products and shop in locally owned establishments whenever possible.

   Sometimes that's not possible, and I'm faced with a choice of driving to a bigger city (the one I live in has a population of under 3,000) to shop around in the hopes of finding what I want. Or I can buy online. With the price of gas... I buy a lot online.

     I'm not the only man who has developed a strange hobby, and I have a budding collection of fountain pens and mechanical watches. I've extolled the virtues (according to me) of each in past posts and I won't dwell on those this time.

   I'm starting to enjoy ordering things online. I don't particularly care which site I use to place my order. I do wish I could find American products I could afford when it comes to mechanical watches and fountain pens, and I'm hopeful that I'll be able to do that soon. Call it a goal of mine.

   The fountain pen and the watch pictured here are items I found on eBay, and they're coming to me from Shanghai.

What's Exciting About Buying Online?

   Some of you are old enough to remember "mail order", and it would be silly to say that ordering online is much different. It's slightly faster to order online than it is to use mail order. I don't have to wait for the mail to carry my order to the seller. I have my PayPal and checking accounts linked, so the ordering process is pretty much instant.

   You know what I really like? Tracking! It's cool, at least to me. I get a link and I can watch--in incredibly slow motion, timed with a calendar--the source of my anticipation.

   Computers and automation keep me updated far better than any person from any company I ordered anything from by mail. I know, for instance, that the pen pictured above is on a truck in Allen Park, MI and will arrive at my local post office around 6:00 AM tomorrow. By noon tomorrow I'll open the envelope, pull out the pen, and proceed to wash the nib and fill it with ink.

   I think I'll break in my new acquisition by writing a chapter in Sexton Retribution by hand. That'll be cool. The pen is a Hero fountain pen made in China at a factory that used to be owned by Parker, a factory that was shuttered when Chairman Mao covered the country in communism, and was re-opened a while back. It's stainless steel and cost me a whopping $4.99, shipping included. If it's like the other Hero pen I bought, it will work great. The watch is an automatic (self-winding) skeleton watch, made of stainless steel, and cost me a whopping $16.99, also including shipping.

   I'll be able to track that shipment around the world, too. I get a kick out of reading the updates and imagining my little purchase on planes, trucks, and conveyor belts on its way to me.

   Strange, the things we find exciting, isn't it? I like my little collection of pens and watches. It amuses my wife to see me amused with such things. She can't complain, though...she's a scrapbooker.

   That's it's own illness, and it's not that different from a man with a drawer full of fountain pens and watches.

Reading -- As Important for the Writer as Writing

I'm working on my 10th book, which happens to be the fifth (and final) book in the Sexton Chronicles. You should buy them all, by the way!

   Commercial aside, I'll get back to the story:

   I've been banging away happily on my own books. If you read Blackout: A Look Inside Wernickes, you'll remember that I was quite ill about seven years ago. In fact, I could easily have died from that illness. As I recovered, I typed the work of several different authors. I was trying to rebuild my brain, and I'm glad I did that. Doing so allowed me to take note of every facet of each author's writing. More importantly, it helped me flex mental muscles that hadn't been flexed--or if flexed, bent to hell and back--and come back to myself.

Lately, though, I've been doing the second most important thing a writer can do. (The most important thing a writer can do is write.)

   I've been reading. Like the guy perched comfortable on the side of the mountain, I've been enjoying the spectacle of other people's fiction. In one sense, it's a break. I get to relax and let someone else unfold events, build characters, and give me a new perspective.

   It's not easy to read when you're a writer. I don't analyze other people's writing if I can help it. I'm not a nit-picker by nature. Unfortunately, though, I do find myself caught up in the trees rather than the forest sometimes. I see sentences and paragraphs and can have a heck of a time just...well...reading.

   I forced myself. I forced myself to start spending a couple of hours each day in my favorite chair, in what I now call my reading spot. Reading Spot. It's an old, brown wing chair I bought right after I graduated college. It sits under a lamp on the top landing of the staircase on the second floor of our big house. When I glance up, I can look out the window at the trees, sky, and a bit of the street below.

   It's good to read without judgement. Without trying to figure out where the story is going, or where I would take it if I was the writer. I'm happy to report I've been able to do that lately, and it's precious to me. I'm not going to imitate the style of the authors I'm reading. I'm not even thinking about their style. I'm just reading.

  Actually, I suppose there's more to it than that. I'm absorbing. There's no way to pinpoint what I'm learning as I read. I just let the images, characters, and story take me to where the author wants me to go.

  Then, when my fingers caress my own keyboard, they do so with more grace. That's probably not the right word, but it's close.

It's the most enjoyable way I've found to improve my own writing.

And now for a blatant commercial -- Try one of my books. I think you'll like them.

Books by David J. Steele 

Watch complete--with my Twist-O-Flex watch band

Behold! The Twist-O-Flex watchband. Yes, I bought one and had it put on my new automatic watch.

   Why did I do that?

   Actually, that question has been aimed at me, by me, for the past several days.

  

I explained in an earlier post (or two, or three) that I'm tired of putting batteries in my watch every year. I admit that I don't hold a quartz watch with the same high esteem I hold a mechanical watch. I like the idea that my watch contains lots of gears, gears that turn with the power of a small spring.

   I'm not an engineer. I'm not a gear head. Seriously, my wife does get very, very nervous if I use a tool or machine. The sewing machine--which is mine, by the way--is the only machine in the house I can use without making her pulse race with concern for my health. I've written some about that topic too.

   I think on some level, I wanted the watch I had as a kid. It was a Timex self-winding watch with a little Boy Scout logo on it. I had that thing for years and it worked great. Not sure what happened to it. I think I gave it to someone in a moment of weakness, while staring with wonder at a digital watch I thought I would like...and probably did until I realized it contained no magic, and had a battery that would die eventually.

   So, when my Alias Kim automatic (which means self-winding, but sounds more modern) watch arrived a couple of weeks ago, I wore it with pride. Showed it off to people who had never seen a mechanical watch. I like everything about the watch. Hated the band. It was what the Chinese manufacturer called man-made leather. Yeah. I didn't know what that was either, until I decided to remove the stitching on the side of the strap and see for myself. What I found was a cheap combination of leather (the part that touched my wrist) with a layer of vinyl, covered by another layer of a stamped vinyl.

   I had long been a fan of leather watch straps. They're adjustable, and they're not expensive. I went out and bought one for $15 and had the jeweler put it on my new watch. It was okay, and definitely a step up from the piece of crap the manufacturer put on it.

   Still, I wasn't entirely pleased. 

   I remembered that old Boy Scout watch of mine. I remembered buying a Twist-O-Flex watch band for it. Twist-O-Flex is made by Speidel. I hadn't seen one in a long time and figured they had gone away, like a lot of otherwise good products, replaced by something more modern. (Much like automatic watches). I don't like the metal bracelets that are standard today. My wrist gains and loses as much as 1/2" in circumference during the day. That's enough to make a watch bracelet (the kind with a clasp) slide up and down on my wrist, and that drives me nuts.

   Twist-O-Flex. I'll admit, I think it's a nerdy, out-dated name. But! I like 'em anyway. There is no clasp. The band is made of little links. You slide it on over your hand and it contracts to the wrist. When my wrist expands during the day, the band expands with it. I have a small wrist and had to have the jeweler remove several links, but that's a one-time deal. I researched how to remove the links myself--and can see why having a jeweler do it is more than just a good idea. There are a lot of little prongs holding the thing together, and although the band is hard to break, it's also hard to take apart.

   This morning I picked up my new watch band--my nostalgia filled Twist-O-Flex. They've been around since the 1960's, these little miracle linky things. I like it because I won't have to adjust it during the day when my wrist expands and contracts. It won't slide around on my wrist, but does move enough--just enough--to keep my watch wound. One of the problems I was having with the leather strap is that it held the watch a little too tight to my wrist, and that didn't allow the rotor (weight) to move enough to wind my watch. This one will.

   It will also last a really long time. One of the benefits of it being a single piece is that there's no clasp to wear out. The links and the pieces of metal that hold them together are tough, and even if one breaks, I have the links the jeweler took out to use to replace them.

   Yeah, I'm a happy camper. I have my nostalgia watch (that keeps great time and was, for a mechanical watch, a very affordable $28, and a durable, comfortable band for another $20. No battery to replace, no clasp to replace, and some sweet memories of my very first "grown up" watch.

    I wish I still had that old Boy Scout Timex self-winding watch, by the way. I saw one on eBay for $179.00! Sigh.

   One last picture. It's not my watch, but it is the same model Twist-O-Flex I have on my watch. Mine looks better than the one in the photo--my watch is gold with a black face.

Sign Confusion: "Feed the Horses, $1.00"

It's a beautiful summer day, and as I walked out of the restaurant, I glanced at the carriages lined up to give tourists horse drawn tours of the area. It's a nice thing, and I'm glad they're there. I like to see people enjoy the rides, and I admire the animals.
   For the first time, I noticed they had a basket of paper bags of feed, and a sign that said, "Feed The Horses. $1.00"

   I thought I would save the young driver some work. So I said, "I'll feed your horse for a dollar."

   He thanked me and handed me a bag of feed.

   "Where's my dollar?" I asked.

   "Excuse me, sir?"

   "I prefer to be paid in advance, but only because we just met."

   He looked perplexed for a minute. Then he said, "Sir, you pay me a dollar."

   "Why would I do that? This is your horse, isn't it?"

   "Well..." He thought for a second. "Yes, but the feed costs money."

   "The horse is going to eat with, or without me, isn't it?"

   "Of course."

   "Then why would I pay you a dollar to use your feed to feed your horse. I'm doing you a favor by feeding the horse so you can stand there and relax." I smiled. "I know you probably get paid more than a dollar to feed and care for the horse, but don't worry. I don't mind doing this part of your job for only a dollar. You seem like a hard-working young man, and you should get the profit from my work."

...Strangely, he decided he didn't need my help.*

*This conversation took play only in my head, not in real life. The imaginary conversation was enough. I paid myself a dollar for giving me something to laugh about as I walked to my car.

Never Again Will A Watch Battery Bite Me On The...

,,,aspirins.

   It's always a headache when a quartz watch needs a new battery. You move along through life with it ticking away on your wrist. It's a happy little thing, the quartz watch. It ticks reliably. It ticks once per second. It is unquestionably an accurate, low-maintenance (except for batteries) timepiece.

   Quartz Watches!

   They're accurate. They're easy to maintain. They're on wrists all over the world. I have several of them. Some are expensive, and some are not so expensive. I have one that's Swiss (that's one of the expensive ones).

Quartz Movement -- Battery and electronics

   Know what I don't like about quartz watches? Batteries. They all need batteries. Sure, the battery lasts a long time. A year, or two, or three. Some watch manufacturers brag that the battery only needs to be replaced every five years. Some claim longer times.

   Yeah. They might be right, or they might be wrong. I don't know. I do know this: when the battery stops, so does your watch. No warning. You just wonder what time it is and suddenly find...you don't know.

Automatic Watch Movement -- gears and weight

   Literally -- one second your watch is humming along, the next second is just like the last second except your watch has gone from being correct every second to being right twice a day. It'll be right at the time it stopped in the AM and right in the time it stopped in the PM, just like a clock face painted on a rock is right twice a day.

   I know it's old school, but I remember happily the days when a stopped watch was an easy fix. There was no need to take the watch to a jeweler or person with a cart in the middle of a mall. I just took the thing off my wrist, with a mental shake of my head for neglecting the simple task of twisting a knob, wound it, set it, and went along my merry way.

   The good old days weren't always good, but they weren't all bad either.

   Some of the younger people I work with say I'm old school. I accept that as a compliment whether it's meant that way or not. There's usually an undertone of admiration...and if there isn't, I pretend there is.

   The watch movement (the guts of a watch) on the right is an example of the type of movement I've always admired and the kind of movement in the watch I'm wearing now. Instead of a battery, my watch is powered by a spring. The spring is powered by winding when the weight turns a gear (or 12) or when I twist the crown with my fingers. If it stops, it will be because I neglected it either by not wearing it, or not winding it after I let it sit for a couple of days.

   I like my old school mechanical watch. I guess I'm not the only one. Automatic watches are making something of a comeback among younger people. I hear they're not as accurate as quartz watches, and with all the gears inside that have to work together precisely, I'm not surprised they're not as accurate. By "not as accurate" I mean they might lose or gain a few seconds a day. It's a good idea to check your watch against a reliable source every once in a while whether it's quartz or mechanical. All watches lose or gain a few seconds here and there. If you have to punch a time clock, I suggest you make sure your watch matches that clock...whether that clock is right or wrong. Unless you sell your wristwatch, it won't pay you like your employer does.

   Uh-oh. I just looked at my watch. Yes, it's still running. It's telling me it's time for bed.

  

From Contempt to Convinced -- Defense of Fountain Pens

   Last evening I had the pleasure of talking to a couple of guests at the restaurant where I serve as a greeter. They looked to be in their late fifties, a nice couple visiting from out of town. They were on the other side of the desk from me and asked me for directions to a local attraction. I was more than happy to help.

   I grabbed a piece of paper, uncapped my pen, and started to draw a map and write directions. The man looked at my hand. He grinned and with just a hint of mockery in his voice--okay, a little more than a hint--he said, "What, are you from the sixties? Is that a...fountain pen?" He laughed to show he meant no harm.

   The difference between him and me at that moment is that I was prepared for that conversation and he wasn't. One of the many things that delights me about my fountain pen is that it surprises people.

   I said, "Actually, I am from the sixties. I was born in the mid-sixties and I'm pretty glad my name isn't Moon Puppy or some other hippy concoction." It wouldn't surprise me if I found out that the couple in front of me were hippies from the sixties, but that's a different story. They both laughed and I could see them checking my name tag to see if it did, indeed, say Moon Puppy. It doesn't.

   He asked, "Why would you use a fountain pen?"

   Ha! Thank you for asking. Muhahaha...

   "I'm a lefty, and the fountain pen ink soaks into the paper. Ballpoint pens smear ink on my hand when I write, and roller ball pens don't last long. With this thing, I can write all day without smearing ink on my hand or sleeve. One bottle of liquid ink lasts me about three years, and I have the pleasure of using a fine writing instrument.  The best part is that highly curious, educated people ask me about it."

   "Can I see that?"

   I could tell he was no stranger to fountain pens. Like a lot of people who grew up before ballpoint pens were commonplace, he peered at it like it was some sort of malignant piece of history. Morbidly fascinated.

   "I haven't seen one of these in years," he said. "Where did you get it?"

   Welcome to my lair. "I got it online. Fountain pens are expensive anymore, but I found this one for $20 at www.xfountainpens.com

    He handed me my pen. "Would you write that website down for me?"

I've Been Looking For an Old-Fashioned, but New Watch

Have you heard of a self-winding watch? They call them "automatic" watches now, but it amounts to the same thing. They're mechanical beasts, and they don't require a battery. They operate with a little pendulum that swings with the motion of the arm through the day. The pendulum winds a spring, the spring makes a bazillion (or slightly fewer) gears move, and the gears move the hands. Cool, but old stuff.

I had a self-winding watch I loved dearly. I got it in 1973 with prize money from selling tickets to a Scout show. I wore it for years with no problems, but lost it sometime after I bought a digital watch. I'll bet it still runs, wherever it is.

The photo at left is a picture of the back of the watch I ordered the other day. The bottom portion is the pendulum that winds the spring that powers the watch. The glass center is kind of cool. I'll be able to see the watch work.

I feel a little guilty about my purchase. It's a Chinese watch. I looked for an American watch of similar construction, with a similar movement. I couldn't find one. Note that I said I couldn't find one. I mean I couldn't find one, period...not for any price.

It's a global economy. American companies, even our automobile manufacturers, use parts that come from other countries. I would prefer not to send any of my money to China, but that's not easy to do. I'm not going to comment on what could be done to stop that from happening because I have no more answers than anyone else does.

You might wonder why I want a mechanical watch. It's a valid question. Most of our watches are quartz watches. They're a lot less expensive--even the fancy ones--and they're more accurate than mechanical watches, for the most part.

Well... I like old-fashioned technology. I've written about why I like fountain pens. This is the same kind of thing. I want to hear my watch go tick-tock, and not just tick. Quartz watches operate on a steady electronic pulse through the quartz. If you look at the second hand on a quartz watch, you'll see that lurches forward one second at a time. Tick. Tick. Tick. It's not a big issue, whether the watch goes tick or tick-tock, but I miss the old ticktockticktock.

I like the idea of taking some responsibility for my watch. I want to have to do something beyond just strapping it to my wrist every morning. (Yes, I prefer a leather watch strap.) I want some control, and having to wear it or wind it to make it go is close enough to control for me. I also want to be able to start the watch if it stops...without having to go to the jeweler and wait a couple of days for him to get around to sticking a new battery in my watch.

So I decided to buy an automatic watch. I found very quickly that automatic watches are still available, but most of them are expensive. A Google search for "automatic watch" under shopping reveals prices from $70-5,000. Big range!

I found one I like on eBay, and not in an auction. I ordered it. It cost me a little under $30, and the seller is paying for the shipping. I've had to do some digging to try to find out anything about AK Homme watches. I found a couple of good reviews, most of which expressed surprise at how well the watch runs.

The "AK" stands for Alias Kim, and they have their own website in addition to selling on eBay. I wondered if I could find out more about the company that actually makes the watch, but so far I haven't. I do know this:

• The watch movement is Chinese.
• The Chinese have been making some very good automatic movements. Some reviews I've read say the Chinese movements are as good as the Swiss movements (and one of those sources was Swiss!), but they lack the prestige of a Swiss movement (of course), and therefore won't fetch the same price. I'm also sure the workers that make the watch aren't paid anywhere near what a Swiss watchmaker is paid. In fact, I wish the Chinese worker was paid more...and maybe someday they will be.
• Fossil uses some Chinese movements in their watches (from what I've read). Look at their catalog someday, and you'll find they talk about the case being 100% American made, but not the movement. Timex has movements built in India, Indonesia, and some sites hinted they have some movements made in China.

At any rate, I ordered my watch, and I'm looking forward to having it show up in my mailbox in ten days or so. I'm looking forward to having my second hand sweep around the watch face. I learned that with a mechanical watch, the second hand moves five times per second (on average), which gives the appearance that it's sliding gracefully in a circle instead of ticking  once a second.

I'll have to take it to the jeweler every 5-10 years to have it cleaned on the inside and have lubricant applied, but that'll be cheaper than buying a new battery. Whether it will save me any money in the long run or not, I hesitate to say. I think it won't be long before I won't be able to find a qualified jeweler to repair the mechanism if something goes wrong. It'll be worth looking. A well-maintained mechanical watch can last for generations. Another advantage to quartz movements is that if something goes wrong, a jeweler just tosses the old movement and puts in a new one. I imagine that can be done with this watch, but the movement won't be inexpensive to replace. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. By then...I'll probably be tired of ticktockticktockticktock.

My First Foray into the Land Of eBay--a Scary land, to me

   I'm afraid of auctions. I'm afraid of eBay.

   I'm a little afraid of auctions because I won/bought something at one that I really didn't intend to buy. After a few too many beers, I started the bidding on a week long stay at a time share condo on the 9th hole at Tidewater Golf Club in Myrtle Beach. I opened the bidding with the thought that I would start the ball rolling and duck out. I bid $475...without a word to my wife, who was at home with the (at the time) delightfully happy thought that I would do no harm while I was out.

  No one else bid on the package. I spent damn near $500 without talking to my wife, who does not golf, and who has no interest in spending a week living on a golf course! The $475 didn't include the plane tickets I knew we would need.

   She took it well, I say with more than a little relief. Some friends split the cost with us and we had a nice week.

   The only eBay experience I had was through the same friend who joined us at that condo. He liked my Tommy Armor golf clubs and bought a set on eBay. I was with him when the UPS shipment came to our office. When he signed for the box of clubs, we looked at the box, then looked at each other. The box was only about three feet long. Golf clubs...three feet long.

   Apparently, my friend didn't read the description as carefully as he should have, and didn't realize the golf clubs were kids clubs! He got a great price, and his son got golf lessons to go with his new clubs.

   I need a new watch strap for my watch. My watch is a Skagen, a subsidiary company of Fossil, and I love it. The watch might last forever, but the leather won't. Trouble is, only a Skagen strap will work. The good people at Skagen will gladly sell me a new strap for $25 plus shipping and handling. I'm okay with that, almost, but I wanted to see if I could find a better deal.

My Skagen

   ...Which led me to eBay. I found a watch--not just the band--but a whole watch. My logic is that I can buy the watch and have the band from that one put on mine. Why would I do that? Well...and here's where I might get sucker punched...the opening bid on the watch with the right kind of band was $0.99.

   Ninety-nine cents. The seller is throwing in the shipping.

   I didn't fall off the potato truck yesterday, and I was pretty sure I wouldn't get a whole watch, with the rare band that will fit my watch, for under a buck.

   I bid $2.00

   In an instant, I was outbid. I mean that. In an instant!

   In my head I pictured someone in a far corner of this round world, rubbing his fingers together in cartoonish glee, waiting to see what I would bid next.

    I upped my bid to $2.50.

    I was trumped in an instant. The new bid was $2.62.

   I decided to show my opponent I was serious. After taking a few minutes to research this watch, this watch I want just for the strap, to see what price it would sell for, new, retail, I was surprised to find out that the watch we (my opponent and I) are bidding on is 5 years newer than the one I want to put the band on, and retails for $125.

   Armed with that knowledge, I upped my bid to 5x's the opening bid. That's right! I bid $5.00

   eBay informed me I was the highest bidder. I cheered. Truth is, I was starting to want the watch, and not just for the band.

   This afternoon I checked my email. My $5 bid had been topped by the same joker who was outbidding me the night before with lightning speed. I called him all sorts of names.

   Tonight I hopped on and upped my bid by another buck. In an instant, so did my opponent. Aha! There's something...something...AUTOMATED... at play! Sho-nuff. I found out I can enter my top bid, and let his computer proxy duke it out with my computer proxy.

   That's when I found out I can set my maximum bid, and if he ups his bid, this time I'll be the one upping the bid in an instant! We'll let his computer proxy duke it out with my computer proxy.

eBay

   And with one minute remaining in this bidding war, if need be, I'll bid $25 for the $125 watch (remembering this watch will arrive with the seller paying the shipping charges), get the local jeweler to put the band from the watch I'm buying on the watch I have, and toss my "prize" in the drawer.

   That is, of course, unless the mystery counter-bidder, knuckle rubbing joker from the far corner of the earth, wants the watch for more than $25. If he does, he can have it...and I'll order a new band from Skagen and be no worse off than I am now.