Category Archives: Mr. Boy

Damn cedar fever

Mr. B set a recent, personal record for sneezing Friday—15 times in two minutes. His eyes were watering and the roof of his mouth itched. Oh, lord, that’s cedar fever most likely. Never bothered him before.

Then this morning I see KVUE weather reporting their daily rooftop air sample on Friday captured the first cedar (actually juniper) pollen of the season. Bit early for the annual Texas curse, but there it is.

Now we’ll have to hope and pray that El Nino delivers the forecast wet winter to help take the pollen out of the air. Otherwise he and I both will be struggling with the stuff before Xmas as well as after when it’s more generally a problem.

Target shooting: Getting worse

I figure it’s a faulty sight picture. I’d say the sights were off except that they’re fixed, so that’s impossible. Last week I hit the head of my paper Jihadi four times out of six with our .38 Smith & Wesson police special revolver.

Today at our weekly target shoot at Red’s in South Austin, I had trouble getting all six in the area over his right shoulder. Sheesh.

Mr. B. was likewise challenged by the .38 and our Ruger semi-auto .22 pistol with his aiming points of the center mass and diamond targets. I was more successful with the .22, but by all rights it ought to translate to the .38 and it didn’t. Two steps forwards and one back, quoth Mr. B. Sounds about right.

One bright spot: four nubile college girls showed up to talk about possibly renting a Glock and having at the targets for the first time. After some instruction of course. Red’s is, after all, the home of the Austin branch of the  Sure Shots, the Women’s Pistol League of Texas.

“You mean we get to hold it?” one of them squealed as the clerk went to fetch their prospective 9mm. As the bumper stickers say: Don’t mess with Texas women.

Shooting Sunday

If I can get Mr. B. up, we’re going target shooting again this morning. We’re getting better, with the Ruger .22 semi-auto and my old .38 Smith & Wesson revolver. He likes the latter best, finally getting used to the double-action trigger. Says it looks more menacing than the Ruger.

I like the way the .38 smokes in the aftermath of each round. Mostly from the cylinder rather than the barrel, but I’ll take it. Now to see if we can get most of our rounds in the center, though center mass is pretty good. Just like to get more accurate. Before we move up to a 1911 and its bigger kick.

UPDATE:  I love the smell of cordite in the morning. Heh. Lots of center-mass for Mr. B. and most of my .38 rounds in the silhouette’s head. Good work. Chatted about possible dove and deer hunting next fall and winter.

The Purloined Cameo

I’ve been gathering Mrs. C.’s jewelry in their various boxes to put in one to offer a chance to her best girlfriends, her mother and aunt, my sisters and nieces to take a piece or two to remember her by.

In the course of which I also gathered the pieces I want to save for Mr. B., including some he might someday want to present to his wife. But one of them, an ivory cameo hung like a pendant on a chain which I wanted to keep for myself, was missing.

Couldn’t figure out where it could have gone. Searched and searched. I know she wore it occasionally. So where was it? Finally gave up. Then not thinking about it at all, I finally saw it, draped over a framed photograph on the wall.

Like Poe’s “Purloined Letter” it had been “hidden” in plain sight all along.

Mrs. Charm is on hospice care

Mrs. Charm has been in a steep decline since Oct. 13, her advanced cancer taking away her ability to think clearly and speak coherently. She has enormous trouble communicating with me and Mr. Boy, which causes her endless frustration. She’s fallen twice on her walker and is no longer able to stand, even with help.

On the 16th she said she knew she could not recover and she wanted to go with Hospice Austin’s care rather than suffer through another round of chemo. The stuff called R-CHOP she had last fall that helped her get into remission until July was nothing compared to the high-dose ones called RICE to fight her recurrent lymphoma. Two rounds of that in late August and late September cut her pretty low and caused scary neurological episodes each time. Recovery was hard, especially after she got the news Oct. 7 that it hadn’t worked and the cancer was steadily spreading.

Her M.D. Anderson doctor called Sunday to see what our situation was. He wasn’t surprised. Cancer moves fast, he said. “God bless you,” he concluded.

So Mrs. C. will stop taking the multiple pills she was on for various, presumably chemo-related problems such as a thyroid condition, and antibiotics to defeat possible infections from her weakened immune system. Now she will take only those drugs that will mask her pain to keep her as comfortable as possible. With hourly visits each day from Certified Nurses Aides to see to her hygiene and a weekly visit daily visits from a hospice nurse to monitor her condition.

And when the shut-down of one of her organs inevitably occurs, we’ll call the 24/7 hospice line instead of 9-1-1.

UPDATE:  Mrs. Charm, my wife Debra Ann Davis Stanley, passed away at 5 p.m. on Oct. 22 after a long and exhausting struggle with cancer. She was 55 years young.

Teacher confiscated Mr B’s iPhone

One of Mr. B.’s teachers called Mrs. Charm (who’s still in the hospital but may finally come home this afternoon) and said after three warnings to stop texting, and he still wouldn’t stop, she he confiscated his iPhone.

Requires a parent coming to the school to get it back for him. Ha ha. No chance today. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe.

It’s going to be amusing watching him discover email. He has prided himself on never using email (claims “his” generation does not do email), not even reading what other people email him. Now it’s that or we’ll see him acting like a heroin addict without his daily dose. Stay tuned. Heh.

UPDATE:  He was classically indignant. It was “my property,” etc. Then he went to bed early for the first time in living memory. No phone, no fun, apparently. Wish they’d confiscate it more often.

MORE:  Silly me. He had his old iPhone 5 to use in bed. At least for the tunes stored therein. No texting of course as it wasn’t wi-fi or cell tower capable. He picked up the six this morning at school, saving me a trip.

My new iPhone 6 plus

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Apple haters, like Mr. Goon, will despair but my new iPhone 6 Plus (white in a black Otter Box similar to the pix) is actually pretty cool. Its 5.5 inch screen is so big it’s almost a mini tablet. Easier for old eyes to read. Still fits in my pants pocket.

Oh, I considered an Android. I have to like any operating system called Lollipop. But, in the end, I had to acknowledge that Mrs. Charm and Mr. Boy both have iPhones and so why not be effortlessly compatible? Especially since keeping up with her in the hospital is important and texting him is about the only way to stay in touch. Anyhow, I like it. I already have the fingerprint ID security feature in operation and am consulting the operating manual daily for more tricks.

UPDATE: Meanwhile the last of Andy’s favorite circa ’05 collection of Motorola Razr phones has died. Sayonara, adios, etc.