I have given up pretending that I will walk enough around town to make a dent in my fitness needs, so now I just glumly go to the gym and rack up five miles' worth of treadmill time, five days per week. Now that winter is here and getting around on foot is less safe than I like, it's by far the best way to get the job done. I just feel kinda silly, driving to the gym and then walking on a treadmill for an hour and a half.

I also work out with weights twice a week. I am particularly pleased with my squat skills, and the gym has plenty of push-me-pull-you equipment, but arthritis in my hands limits what I can do with free weights. Stratford has lots of aging gym rats, so I don't feel weird or out of place; at mid-morning, when I go, everybody has grey hair but me and the staff.

On the household front, I find I've become a bit fierce about not accumulating stuff we won't use. I just gave Himself a hard time for visiting our local kitchen-porn shop in search of a little metal ring doohickey for making crumpets at home -- as if the bakeries don't have to make a living! I'm pretty sure we should not be eating crumpets on a regular basis anyway. But I also remember the messy chaos that ensued when I tried to make pita bread at home, despite the fact that Lebanese bakeries were to be found all over the place, each offering professionally perfect pita for a couple of bucks.