Aquanaut suit? Oxygen bar? It's almost Christmas!

Christmas is three months from today, so the new Hammacher Schlemmer catalog came just in time!

If you live under a rock, Hammacher Schlemmer is the company that sells all kinds of exotic things that are marginally affordable. If you live under a rock, Hammacher Schlemmer also likely has something that will make your life better: Perhaps a rock-powered lamp that also works as a shortwave radio.

Hammacher Schlemmer is the modern version of the old Sears Wish Book Christmas catalog.

If you're eccentric.

This year's cover item grabbed my attention and led me to remind Mrs. Brad that Christmas is nearing. It's a Self-Propelled Aquanaut's Suit (all Hammacher Schlemmer items start with capital letters), which allegedly maintains sea-level-area pressure while enabling descents to 1,000 feet below the water's surface. I'm afraid to go 10 feet below the surface and would undoubtedly get seasick, but it seems like a cool thing to have in my garage. I could use the suit to do routine homeowner chores that impress the neighbors. Mowing. Cleaning gutters. Getting mail.

Then I saw the price: $825,000, which is about 8,250 times our budget for Christmas, so . . . nah.

But the rest of the catalog? Fantastic. So if you're planning ahead for this Christmas, consider these options:

The Wi-Fi Communicating Pet Treat Dispenser ($199.95). This allows you to check on a pet from anywhere and remotely dispense treats. It could likely be adapted to include the treats that the man (or woman) in your life enjoys and you could put it next to his (OK, it's likely a man) favorite lounge chair. Boom! A man treat dispenser.

The Any Surface Full Body Massage Pad ($199.95). Over time, it's cheaper than finding motels that have those "magic fingers" beds that use coins. Maybe. Over a long time.

The Star Wars Toasters (Stormtrooper, $59.95, Darth Vader, $39.95). After it's perfectly toasted, you can Chewie your toast.

The World's Largest Toe Tap Piano ($79.95). For any time your recipient wants to re-enact the fantastic scene from "Big."

The Sliding Door 1,044 CD/468 DVD Library ($349.95). This can go next to the 8-Track Storage Shed and the VHS Bookcase! Right next to your oversized boom box that plays cassettes.

The Personal Oxygen Bar ($399.95). Modeled after oxygen bars found in resorts and spas, this can replace the current "oxygen bar" – the Earth's atmosphere.

The Driver's See Through Sun Visor ($19.95). Or as I call it, a "windshield."

The Best Nose Hair Trimmer ($19.95). Since it's the "best," that automatically puts it past my personal choice: A small pair of scissors paired with a smartphone flashlight while standing inches from the mirror. You're welcome.

The Cordless Reading Lamp ($149.95). This is a rechargeable reading lamp that you can move anywhere, in case you live in a house that doesn't have electricity.

The 15-Foot Inflatable Rudolph ($399.95, with a 12-foot inflatable Clarice for $349.95). Can you imagine this in your front yard? And can you imagine the stories your friends could tell after the first wind storm? It's worth the double this price!

The Two-Story Inflatable Black Cat ($299.95). If your 15-foot Rudolph doesn't creep out your neighbors enough, you can add this, while walking in your Self-Propelled Aquanaut's Suit.

This is going to be the best Christmas ever!

Brad Stanhope is a former Daily Republic editor. Reach him at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

There's no parallel for my ability to park

I'm irrationally proud of my ability to parallel park. If you don't believe me, just watch.

I strut, as if I just rode a bucking bronco for eight seconds. Or cut the correct wire to disarm a bomb.

I rarely feel better about myself. I backed my car into a tight space between two other cars – a skill that many people never muster!

I can parallel park! I am great at it!

Except I have no idea whether I'm especially good. I mean, I know I can do it, but am I great? Or just adequate? Or maybe subpar?

I'm definitely better than subpar because . . . are you ready? . . . I can parallel park on the opposite side! On a one-way street, I can parallel park on the left side. That's a lost art.

Driving includes several activities about which we (by which I mean mechanically challenged middle-aged men) are unnaturally proud. Secretly – or not-so-secretly – many of us think we're outstanding behind the wheel. We embrace our greatness.

Another example? The ability to drive a vehicle with manual transmission. That's a skill!

When I started driving, roughly half the cars on the road were manual transmission. Automatic transmission cars seemed weak, something that a housewife would drive to the grocery store. A real man? He drove a stick.

And was good at it. My first several vehicles had stick shifts and I, like most guys, considered myself elite at going from first to fourth (or fifth) in a few smooth steps.

Now about 10 percent of American cars are manual transmission and most young people have never driven one. I have and I'm good at it.

Want to hear something else? I am expert at using a squeegee to clean my windshield at the gas station. Oh, sure, it's not that hard, but we experts pride ourselves on not leaving streaks.

It involves a slight overlap of  the squeegee area, followed by a wipe of the paper towel to catch a few spots (and of course, a quick flick of the wipers to catch everything you missed).

It's a skill. And for those of us who don't change oil or rotate our own tires, it's a point of pride.

There are other vehicle-related skills of which I'm irrationally proud: The ability to drive curves. Knowing the perfect time to dim my brights while driving on rural roads. Driving at a pace so I hit green lights all the way through cities with timed stoplights.

Sure, you could say there's no standard way to measure whether I'm actually good at the skills. Sure, you could say that parking or shifting or wiping a window isn't an important skill. Sure, you could say I'm desperately trying to find affirmation in a world that's passed me by.

I will simply parallel park my car, get out and smugly walk past you.

Because I'm really good at it.

Brad Stanhope is a former Daily Republic editor. Reach him at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

When every purchase was meaningful, confusing

I stood behind them at the pet store near Costco in Green Valley. They were two preteen boys, holding what appeared to be a small box to transport small rodents – maybe for a hamster. Or a rat.

The smaller boy pulled out a sweaty dollar bill and put it on the counter, along with a handful of change.

"Will that be enough?" he asked the checker.

"It will. We'll get back 15 cents," said his friend, confidently.

I smiled as the checker rang up the item, then counted out the money. There was a lot of change.

"Actually, you get seven cents back," she said, handing him back a nickel and two pennies.

Tax. They'd forgotten the tax. But the boys paid and headed out. They got on bikes and left, riding across the sweeping parking lot, back to their houses where, presumably, a hamster, rat or mouse awaited a new transportation device.

It was sweet. It was suburban. It was also something that rarely happens in the 21st century, both because many kids aren't allowed to ride their bikes to the store and because so many kids have so much money that they don't sweat over whether a dollar and change will be enough for their purchase.

It reminded me of being in their position.

I didn't grow up poor, but I was raised in an era of tight allowances and of needing to save up to buy things. I also grew up in a home that was a couple of miles from the nearest store, so the opportunity to actually purchase things was a treat.

I was a saver, not a spender.

I would put away my weekly allowance – first a few quarters, then a dollar or two – for weeks. Or months. The goal was to buy something good: a box of baseball cards, a Nerf football or maybe even a 10-speed bike.

My shopping trips were significant. I remember bringing cash to the store, then staring at the annual issue of Street and Smith's Baseball Preview or at a new transistor radio and weighing its value.

I'd grab it off the counter, then think about whether it was worth so many weeks' allowance. I'd put it back.

But I'd keep considering it. Money was in my pocket – I always checked several times, fearful that I'd lose it – and it might be quite some time before I could make another purchase.

When I decided to make a purchase, I'd do the same dance done by the boys in front of me at the pet store. I'd nervously go the counter and do the most adult thing imaginable: Put my item on the counter and pay for it with my own money.

Sweaty singles. Random change. I was good at math, but taxes confused me. Invariably, I'd wait until the item was rung up, then count out my money. One dollar, two dollars, three dollars, four dollars. A quarter, another quarter, two dimes and three pennies. I'd slide it to the checker, who took it, bagged my item and handed it to me.

Undoubtedly, there were smiling adults behind me. I never noticed, because I was relieved I had enough. And invariably, I almost immediately had buyer's remorse.

Did I waste my money on something not worth it?

I hope the boys at the pet store didn't have buyer's remorse. I hope they enjoyed their purchase. It was definitely worth it.

For me, at least.

Brad Stanhope is a former Daily Republic editor. Reach him at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

End of summer brings blues, football, notes

It's Labor Day weekend, which is a good news/bad news situation. The good news is that it's a three-day weekend and the NFL season is about to start. The bad news is that summer is nearing the end.

I've long championed my love of summer. I also proposed a new season system, under which summer would officially end Monday night.

Every year, I hear people talking about how excited they are for fall – for the falling leaves, the pumpkin spice latte at Starbucks, the coming Christmas season. Every year, I get sad as the days become shorter.

This week is the unofficial end of summer. You may be happy about that, but I'm not. Still, it's time to empty my pockets of my summer-ending notes:

• I'm appalled that the state Legislature seriously considered a bill to end daylight saving time in California. Actually, the bill would just allow residents to vote on it, but really?

People want to end sunny evenings? They want to create a world that resembles summer in Alaska, with just a few hours of daylight every day? They want to let the Snow Miser win the famous Sun Miser-Snow Miser battle ("Year Without a Santa Claus," 1974)? Please.

If we get rid of daylight saving time, what's next? Christmas? Kittens? Laughter?

• For my money, there is no household item with a name that better reflects its purpose than a sewing machine.

Not only is it for sewing, it's a full-blown machine, with pulleys, levers, motors and pistons. (I'm guessing. I'm not knowledgeable about what pistons do.)

Second-best household item name, from my friend Danny: A juicer.

• The NFL season kicks off Thursday, so this former sports editor will share his predictions.

The Raiders will go 9-7 but miss the playoffs. The 49ers will be 4-12. Several high-profile players will suffer serious head injuries and the league will continue to be popular.

• For my money, the best autumn opportunity in Solano County is the Cool Patch Pumpkins Corn Maze in Dixon.

According to its website, the maze will open sometime this month. It's the world's largest corn maze. And it's in our county.

Do yourself a favor. Go to the Cool Patch Pumpkins Corn Maze.

• Here's the description of nearly every Netflix or Amazon TV series that I've watched with over the past year: A dysfunctional detective with a dark secret in his/her past works to solve a strange crime in a dark, hopeless town.

Who wouldn't love that?

• When the Golden State Warriors switched flagship radio stations from longtime home KNBR (680 AM) to KGMZ (95.7 FM), it was a milestone move for Solano County radio.

Yes, Solano County.

Among the stations carrying the Warriors will be KUIC 95.3 FM in Vacaville – largely because it's close to 95.7 on the FM dial and fans will be able to find it.

But consider this factoid: This is the first time a major Bay Area or Sacramento pro sports team had a Solano County affiliate.

Brad Stanhope is a former Daily Republic editor. Reach him at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.