Dog-nail trimmer

I’m quietly pumping away on the sand-trainer at the vaunted Canandaigua YMCA yesterday (Tuesday, October 14, 2008).
For some time I’ve only been able to do the “Y” one day a week; and only have time for one-third of the machines.
I used to do all the machines; then half.
My goal is to get outta there by 1:30 or so. Yesterday was 2:15.
My original intent was to run Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and YMCA strength-training Tuesday and Thursday.
When the snow flies we switch; YMCA Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and walk dog or ski at park Tuesday and Thursday.
Weekends is walk dog Saturday morning because Linda works at the post-office, and run Sunday if possible.
But it’s gotten so that so many errands, appointments, etc. are intervening, we might only run twice a week and YMCA once.
It has gotten so tight the refrigerator-door can no longer keep up.
Linda has to print a calendar-page so we can juggle all the appointments.
When we make an appointment, we have to refer to the calendar to avoid conflicts.
And every afternoon becomes a wild, headlong rush.
Walk dog, start supper, etc.
Every trip to anywhere gets an errand or two tacked onto it.
Today (Wednesday, October 15, 2008) is a meeting of the “Alumni” bus-retirees. That will get a trip to the Honeoye Falls supermarket hooked to it to buy spinach.
Friday I hope to run. That gets a trip to mower-man hooked to it to buy an oil-filter for the zero-turn.
Tomorry is Hairman in the afternoon, and since Linda works all day at the post-office, dog gets walked that morning at the park.
Yesterday’s visit to the YMCA got a trip to mighty Weggers hooked to it. —The weekly grocery gig.
And that got a visit to Advance Auto hooked to it to buy oil for the mower.
Home 15 minutes later. Every minute counts. It all adds up.
Weggers is a half-hour. Add Wal*Mart to that and I’m adding another half-hour to that trip to Weggers (plus I have to avoid the smelly kissing greeter).
Sure; farm all the lawn-mowing out to Linda and I might have time for a NASCAR race with a bag of Cheetos.

So here I am placidly pumping the sand-trainer.
Amazon-Lady is next to me on the other sand-trainer, pumping away listening to her MP3 player with earbuds.
An infomercial is on the wall-mounted plasma-baby facing us, tuned to the Weather-Channel.
Something about a dog toenail trimmer; some motorized gizmo with a tiny grinding-wheel driven by a plastic-encased toothbrush motor.
“Oh sure,” I say.
Amazon-Lady has the volume up on her MP3 player, but she winced as she heard that.
There’s Fido dutifully holding up his paw so Lithesome Lassie can trim his claws.
“Uh yeah,” I think. “It helps to have a well-trained dog not terrified of vacuum-cleaners.”
Try that with our dog, and she’d head for the hills!
“You’re not attackin’ me with no gizmo!”

I work out at the Canandaigua YMCA.

A “sand-trainer” is a semi-elliptical machine that duplicates running in sand.

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

Our current dog is “Scarlett;” a rescue Irish-Setter. She’s four-plus, and is our sixth Irish-Setter.

For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service, the transit-bus operator in Rochester, N.Y. My stroke October 26, 1993 ended that — disability retirement. (The “Alumni” are all union retirees; but you have to join.)

Our “zero-turn” is our 48-inch Husqvarna riding-mower; “zero-turn” because it’s a special design with separate drives to each drive-wheel, so it can be spun on a dime. “Zero-turns” are becoming the norm, because they cut mowing time in half compared to a lawn-tractor, which has to be set up for each mowing-pass.

“Hairman” is my hair-dresser. I’ve gone to him at least 16-17 years. (My macho, loudmouthed brother-from-Boston, who noisily badmouths everything I do or say, excoriates my hair. I shouldn’t be patronizing Hairman; like my brother I should be having my hair trimmed by HairCrafters at $5 a pop, or use my John Deere riding-mower.)

“Mighty Weggers” is Wegmans, a large supermarket-chain based in Rochester we often buy groceries at. They have a store in Canandaigua.

RE: “I might have time for a NASCAR race with a bag of Cheetos.......” —My all-knowing, blowhard brother-from-Boston, the macho ad-hominem king, who noisily badmouths everything I do or say, makes his wife mow his huge lawn, so he can watch NASCAR while glomming Cheetos.

Amazon-Lady is a YMCA-employee. We call her that because she is extremely muscle-bound.

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