Three things........

(DO I EVER LEAVE THE VAUNTED CANANDAIGUA YMCA WITHOUT A STORY?)

—1) “Nothing runs like a Deere.”
I went to the YMCA earlier yesterday (Wednesday, May 7, 2008) so I would get home earlier and thereby not require our poor dog to be by himself very long. —Linda had to work at the post-office starting at 1:30 p.m.; meaning she had to leave the dog by himself from about 1:15 until I got home, which was at 2:15. We always leave the radios tuned to Dubya-Hex-Hex-Hi — which on Saturday afternoons the poor dog gets to endure fat-ladies a-bellowing at the Met, and yesterday he got to listen to a beg-a-thon.
This means I got to see earlier TV programs on the plasma-babies; in this case Merv Griffin Crossword.
Five contestants were filling in a crossword at the prompting of a smiling Tom Bergeron wannabee. I don’t really understand the game, having never watched it, making me utterly clueless, stupid and reprehensible.
Sorry chillen, but I ain’t addicted to utterly stupid daytime TV. I’m not entertained by fat grannies hugging the emcee, and jumping all over the set going bonkers over an RV trailer they’ll never use.
The contestants were filling in words that were clued by hints: e.g. “Nothing runs like a _____e.”
“Nothing runs like a Dodge,” the contestant said.
“No!” I shouted. I was quietly blasting away on the new elliptical, the one that imitates running in sand.
“Oh, for crying out loud,” I thought. “My brother-in-Boston has one, although he’s probably never seen it, except perhaps to buy it. I got one myself.”
They never did get it — no one got it.
The game moved on to another word.
A slam-dunk.

—2) Almost........
I am quietly pumping the arm-bicycle, which faces the line of treadmills.
A small female butterball was blasting away on a treadmill, and it finally stopped.
She turned around and had to stop to get her bearings. The pause lasted almost 20-30 seconds.
WHOA! What am I seeing here?
I almost stopped to ask “are you all right?”
If I had been Bill or my father, I probably woulda. This looked like the dizziness that followed my first try on the recumbent bicycle at the Physical Therapy.
But I try not to get involved for fear of embarrassing the protagonists.
The lady seemed okay after a few minutes — she disappeared.

—3) Donut
A black Honda Accord drove by on the main drag out front, while I was on the treadmill (which I do last; since there are so many, and the other machines are often occupied).
The Accord had the tiny donut-spare on the right-rear.
Steamy recall of my donut adventures in the shadow of the mighty De Land water-tower.
Years ago, when Linda’s aunt was still living, we visited using a rental Cavalier from Avis in Orlando.
The Cavalier had a pranged wheel that apparently held air when pumped up, but then leaked it off over time.
So when I went out the next morning it was flat.
As you may recall, I was loudly excoriated by all my siblings for taking matters into my own hands, instead of doing the righteous thing, which was to call Avis, go ballistic, and noisily demand they spend the next 4-5 hours trying to find me with a replacement car.
We were in the Floridy Lutheran Home, a retirement community in deepest, darkest De Land, at least 40 miles north of Orlando Airport and the Avis rental-depot.
The Floridy Lutheran Home ain’t on a main drag — it’s off residential side-streets deep within De Land. Avis would have needed a GPS beacon.
What I did was change out the flat myself for the donut-spare. (Has there ever been a Hughes that couldn’t change a tire?) —So I could return the rental to Avis and make our return-flight home; which we did.
Better the Avis-people should endure the angry wrath of an enraged Connor than I make that flight.

Our dog is “Killian;” a rescue Irish-Setter. He has lymphatic cancer, and probably won’t survive. —He’s over 10; we don’t know his birthdate.

“Linda” is my wife of 40+ years. Like me she’s retired, but she works part-time at the West Bloomfield post-office.

“Dubya-Hex-Hex-Hi” is WXXI-FM, 91.5, the classical-music radio-station in Rochester we listen to. —RE: “fat-ladies a-bellowing at the Met......” —Every Saturday afternoon they play opera at the N.Y. Metropolitan Opera (or similar); which I can’t stand. —RE: “beg-a-thon......” —WXXI is a publically-funded radio station, so every once-in-a-while they hold fund-drives, which I also can’t stand.

“Plasma-babies” are what my loudmouthed macho brother-in-Boston calls all high-definition wide/flat-screen TVs. Other technologies beside plasma are available, but he calls them all “plasma-babies.”

RE: “I don’t really understand the game, having never watched it, making me utterly clueless, stupid and reprehensible.......” —I was loudly excoriated by my siblings for not understanding “Price is Right,” which I’ve never watched.

RE: “My brother-in-Boston has one, although he’s probably never seen it, except perhaps to buy it. I got one myself.” —John Deere lawn tractor: “Nothing runs like a Deere.” —I don’t think my brother has ever actually mowed the lawn. He delegates to his wife or son so he can watch NASCAR.

Before working out at the YMCA was Lake Country Physical Therapy. Two+ years ago I was experiencing dizzy-spells, but am not any more. Lake Country Physical Therapy (in Canandaigua) was where I got back in shape.

“Bill” is my younger brother in northern Delaware.

“Shadow of the mighty De Land water-tower” is where my wife’s 92-year-old mother lives, in a retirement community in “the shadow of the mighty De Land water-tower” in De Land, Florida.

“Linda’s aunt” was about 10 years older than her mother, and died at 98 a few years ago. Linda’s mother and she lived together in an apartment at Florida Lutheran Home in De Land.

RE: “Has there ever been a Hughes that couldn’t change a tire.........” —My father applied a rule to all his younger children that they should be able to change a tire before beginning driver-training. This also applied to my baby-sister, although not to my sister Betty and I.

My mother’s maiden-name was “Connor.” The Connors were Irish and hot-tempered.