Tag: my family

Memory Lane: The Remco Bulldog Tank

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This toy was a hot item in 1960, and my brother, then eight years old, got one for Christmas: Remco’s Bulldog Tank. Battery-powered, its mighty caterpillar treads would take the tank up and down steep hills of my mother’s books, all the while making a not entirely hopeful wheezing noise. Our family’s home movies show it doing that while my brother watches in angelic rapture.

Best of all, it shot! Boom! Well, not “boom,” really. It went “click.” It fired these plastic projectiles and ejected brass shell casings. Y’know something? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a tank in a war movie eject a shell casing. But they must have, right? I mean, you can’t have the turret filling up with shell casings.

I wonder if they still make toys like this for kids–or do they try to make out like there’s no more war, we don’t need tanks to protect us from the bad guys anymore? Meanwhile, the same children deemed too emotionally fragile for a Bulldog Tank spend hours every day playing Zombie Massacre video games. Go figure.

We Finally Found the Doctor’s Office

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Image result for images of oasis in desert

Well, there we were–lost again, thanks to Mapquest’s so-called “directions.” They’re really great at sending you on a wild goose chase for streets that don’t exist, and the ever popular “slight right” turn onto some blind alley that takes you farther and farther from your goal. We’re probably lucky we didn’t wind up in Mordor, or Venezuela. I had to stop at a library and ask directions–which turned out to be radically different from those provided by the jidrools at Mapquest, a lot simpler… and correct!

Really, it would have been easy to find this doctor’s office if only we’d had the right directions. “It’s easy to get there from here,” said the librarian; and she was right.

So Patty had a couple of tests, she’ll have the last of them on Monday, and then Dr. Swan can decide on a course of treatment. Naturally, we’re worried that the tests will indicate a whole passel of truly dreadful problems–so please, please, keep those prayers coming. And thank you all for the prayers you’ve prayed for us so far.

My own short-term prayer is for us to have a normal, peaceful day tomorrow.

And maybe I can finish writing my book!

We Search for the Doctor’s Office: Take Two

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Well, we got nowhere with this task last week, and we are about to try again today–the search for the doctor’s office. “Find the lost city of Eldorado and hang a left…”

First I had to crank out a Newswithviews column. Should’ve been done Monday or Tuesday, but there’s just too much to remember and it never crossed my mind.

I wonder when we’ll get back. *sigh* Post-election blues…

Memory Lane: A Navy Lullaby

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My mother used to sing this to each of her children, in turn, as a lullaby: Bell Bottom Trousers. Most of the versions on Youtube have naughty lyrics that we never got to hear. Most of the arrangements are for loud, brassy music; but my mother sang it softly, as a lullaby. With different lyrics!

“Bell bottom trousers, coat of Navy blue/ Your daddy was a sailor, you’ll be a sailor, too.”

Thing was, our daddy really was a sailor, during World War II. And the old storage space in our house–all that was left of the attic, after he’d converted it to bedrooms–was chock-full of stuff he brought back from the war. Dad’s ship was based in the Philippines, and he had a lot of little knick-knacks from there: plus the whole panoply of his sailor duds.

Oh, where is all that stuff now? Dad and Ma moved so many times, and we played carelessly with the souvenirs as kids: I don’t think there’s any of it left, other than a few Filipino coins from the war years.

But it was a nice lullaby: and I was very proud of my Daddy the sailor–never crossed my mind that he was little more than a kid himself, when he clapped eyes on the Pacific Ocean. How young he was…

A Chip Off the Old Block

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Good grief. I just caught myself duplicating one of my mother’s mannerisms–and I mean to a T.

Ma was very hep to politics and culture, and had absolutely no patience with Cherished Minorities and their sponsors–especially when they tried to come over all precious and sweet. Reading their comments from a newspaper article, or repeating something she’d heard in a nooze broadcast, Ma ascribed to these characters a high-pitched, heavily lisping, garbled delivery.

I just realized I do that. Yup, was doing it just now. Just the way she did it.

Well, Ma, I’m carrying on your work as best I can. I really don’t mind being a chip off your old block.

Patty’s Blood Work

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Patty consulted with our doctor today about her blood work, and it’s so far, so good: nothing untoward in the blood. Tomorrow I have to take her to his other office for some tests: that’s where he has the equipment. Please pray there’s nothing wrong but the COPD, which we already know she has. And thank you for your prayers for this day’s hurdle: by God’s grace, she has cleared it.

I’ve been kind of worried about losing time for finishing my book, but today something extraordinary happened, when I went out to write this afternoon. It seemed to me that I could hear one of my characters, Lord Orth, saying, “Stop with the fretting, already. If the Lord our God wants you to finish this book, you’ll finish it. Trust him!” Well, I have a lot of respect for Lord Orth, and I’m inclined to listen to him. So now I feel much better about that. Just a few more warm, sunny days should be all I need.

Meanwhile, please pray those tests tomorrow lead to a successful treatment. I know that blessing is in His hands to give.

Our New Toaster Oven

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https://media.gettyimages.com/vectors/man-carrying-a-big-package-vector-id484841330

If you’ve ever been on board a World War II-era submarine, you’ll have an idea of the size of our kitchen. Not exactly a place to dance the tango.

So when the UPS man came today with our new toaster oven in an enormous cardboard box, all I could say was, “Nom d’un nom!” A la Hercule Poirot. And Patty said, “We’ll have to move.”

But it turned out to be smaller than the box, and it just barely fits on our counter. The only thing missing was an engineer to put it all together. The plethora of knobs and dialed rather dazzled me. I think one of them is for time travel. Anyway, now we’re all set for chops and drumsticks. I hope. My wife is smart, she’ll figure it out.

P.S.–Yesterday we got our new toilet flapper, which I installed successfully… up to a point. But it does work better than the old one.

P.P.S.–Someone’s in the kitchen talking to herself. I’d better go see what’s up.

Toaster Oven, R.I.P.

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http://skiingismylife.com/summit2002/toaster-oven-rip.jpg

So the moment Patty tried to make our supper tonight, the blinkin’ toaster oven conked out, kaput, adios. She had to order a new one online.

I dunno… We loved that oven. *sigh* What’s next?

‘My Iguana’ (2013)

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The iguana in this picture looks exactly like mine.

This pet of mine died in 1978, and I still miss him. Well, I had him 17 years: that’s a long time.

https://leeduigon.com/2013/08/26/my-iguana/

True, you couldn’t get him to play fetch or hide-and-seek; but in all other respects, he was all that could be desired in a pet. He and our cat Buster would have gotten along like a house on fire.

It’s amazing what love and kindness can do.

We’re Back from the Doctor’s

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Mostly what we did all afternoon was wait. Finally the doctor examined Patty, they took some blood for testing, scheduled further tests, and he wrote a prescription or two. The good news is there’s nothing so drastically wrong with her that it showed up in the first examination (thank you, Lord, for that). But she does have COPD, and she does need relief from its symptoms.

I have to thank Linda for pushing Patty over the edge to go to the doctor: urging her to do that was the last thing Linda ever said to her.

Anyway, it’ll be more tests next week, and at least we’ll be getting a handicapped parking sticker out of it.

Please continue to pray for us.