Newsflash!
We here at the Epistle,
pride ourselves on keeping you up to date on the goings on in our little lives.
If you are reading this within hours of when I posted it, then you should know
that at this very moment, Janice is in surgery at the Syracuse hospital.
She is undergoing
elective reconstructive breast surgery (post cancer and mastectomy). Naturally, it was her decision and she will be in the hospital for almost a week,
before returning to the island for a long recovery. A girl has to do what a
girl has to do.
We flew the coop!
We were off island this past month for our yearly two weeks of rentals. We spent a week at a cottage within a stone's throw of the Bee so we are able to continue with most socializing as if nothing has changed. We then spent the second week on a home exchange at the home we were at last summer, just outside of Ottawa (Canada's capital).
This is the 3,500 sf (350 sq M) home of the retired vice president of Scotia Bank (Think Bank of America for Canada) whose back yard is on the Ottawa River, practically across from the Parliament buildings. Very cool! They in turn, spent their exchange at our humble abode in California.
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| The party girl |
While there, my mother turned 90 so we drove to Toronto to celebrate the big event. Hard to believe that she is 40 years older than I. Or is my math off a tad? We also visited family at their cottage in Quebec (province of, not city of) While there, I joined my cousin's wife who was training for a triathlon for a 3/4 mile swim to a nearby island. Does that make me an Iron man?
No rest for the unemployed
I managed to make myself useful this past month by
working on a number of low profile but rather important little projects around
the island. Nothing to write home to mom about, but just stuff to make things
easier, nicer or less work in the future. I
sometimes wonder though, if I should cool it a bit when I realize that I
am known by my first name in 3 different hardware stores in 3 countries
on 2 continents.
Now that the critical projects for the summer are behind
me, other than caring for my bride, flying is my number 1 priority for the rest of the summer. Come to think about it, it is number 2, 3
and 4 also. Attending all social events and other obligations are based on wind
and rain. If the weather conditions are right, I fly. If not, then we can do
anything else.  |
| New deck I built on the back of the island |
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| Same location, different angle |
Charlie, India, Juliet, Quebec, Papa
(AKA C-IJQP)
Surprised that the first thing I wrote about was a
project and not the plane? Me too! The fact is, I am at it gangbusters again,
but doing my flying very early in the morning or in mid-evening. That's when
the winds are lower, giving an inexperienced pilot a fighting chance,
minimizing the risk of bending his airplane. Of course that leaves the better
part of the day open for visiting, boating or projects.
Janice running errands
I have given you a break for some time now, not
blathering on and on about the plane this, the plane that, the plane, the
plane, the plane. The break is over. I am so excited I feel like I am going
to bust a gut. For one, I am finally on my own. I soloed last year but after
such a long absence from flying I had to revisit things some, plus the fact
that even when I left off I was totally unhappy with my landings. They are kind
of important, especially if you want to go for another ride later.
Michael running errands.
To each his / her own
Anyway, I finally got it down after I did 29 landings on my first day out on my own. I am now working on
my passenger carrying rating. When I have it, I can not only go up and kill
myself, but I could take you up and get you killed too! Don’t laugh. Don’t think for
a moment that I don’t know what you are thinking…
Anyway,
the more seat time I get, the better I get at this. I am actually starting
to have time to look out and enjoy the view as opposed to constantly having one
eye on my airspeed, another on my altitude, another eye on airborne traffic
(to avoid a mid-air) another eye on various instruments that record engine
temps, an eye on fuel levels, if I am flying level, an eye on if I am climbing
or descending, all while I am making radio calls.
Since that is way more eyes than I was born with, I quickly became crossed eyed. Still, flying feels like the uneasy exhilaration which would be had from shampooing a lion, and it is way more fun than the kind of talk some people would pay a woman a $1.75 a minute for…
I had to put the fun on pause for a few days when I was due for a 50 hour inspection. I took my first solo cross country trip of a mere 35 miles to an aircraft mechanic at a nearby airport, but in my world that is a big deal. A trip of 350 miles would simply be 10 similar steps. I was so excited I felt like I could pee my pants!
When he found out I had built the plane, he refused to to work on it. He said if I built it, I should know how to maintain it and that he would teach me. I spent the next 7 hours torquing cylinder heads, calibrating carburetors and much more that would bore you to tears. I figure that just 10 more years of this and I could be an un-certified aircraft mechanic too!
One fun project was to finally put a little color on my plane. I had been looking for a design for ages, but found little to excite my imagination. Stripes of every kind and color bored me to tears, and really cool and exotic paint jobs could cost as much as the plane. I finally found and loved the “splashing in the water” look, suitable to and paying homage to the fact that the TIAF (Thousand Island Air Force) is heading for a permanent amphibious operation. That will occur just as soon as the pilot puts on his big boy drinking pants and learns to fly on floats... next summer.
Since that is way more eyes than I was born with, I quickly became crossed eyed. Still, flying feels like the uneasy exhilaration which would be had from shampooing a lion, and it is way more fun than the kind of talk some people would pay a woman a $1.75 a minute for…
I had to put the fun on pause for a few days when I was due for a 50 hour inspection. I took my first solo cross country trip of a mere 35 miles to an aircraft mechanic at a nearby airport, but in my world that is a big deal. A trip of 350 miles would simply be 10 similar steps. I was so excited I felt like I could pee my pants!
When he found out I had built the plane, he refused to to work on it. He said if I built it, I should know how to maintain it and that he would teach me. I spent the next 7 hours torquing cylinder heads, calibrating carburetors and much more that would bore you to tears. I figure that just 10 more years of this and I could be an un-certified aircraft mechanic too!
One fun project was to finally put a little color on my plane. I had been looking for a design for ages, but found little to excite my imagination. Stripes of every kind and color bored me to tears, and really cool and exotic paint jobs could cost as much as the plane. I finally found and loved the “splashing in the water” look, suitable to and paying homage to the fact that the TIAF (Thousand Island Air Force) is heading for a permanent amphibious operation. That will occur just as soon as the pilot puts on his big boy drinking pants and learns to fly on floats... next summer.
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| Wayne helping ensure a precise layout |
Of course
applying such large graphics required a little help from a friend and, as usual, Wayne
was “Johnny on the spot”. Wayne is one of those guys that helps everybody
around him, usually knows anywhere from a bit to a lot more about the subject than you do, and you are
rarely in a position to reciprocate the favor in kind. My buddy Carl in
France is the same way. These are the guys that often allow me to make my hair
brained schemes come to life or get me out of a fix I have put myself in.
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| Ta- Da! |
That Day
Crap. Once again, it was upon me. Like a bad penny,
shortly after Janice had hers, mine followed. I tried ignoring it, refused to
participate but still, the day arrived. I wept and practiced exotic curse words
absorbed by having spent decades in prison, to no avail.
I wish I could say that age did not bother me, except of course when I detect those ever so subtle changes in the way members of the opposite sex look at me, which these days they invariably only reluctantly do because we happen to be unavoidably confined together in an elevator or a waiting room.
I wish I could say that age did not bother me, except of course when I detect those ever so subtle changes in the way members of the opposite sex look at me, which these days they invariably only reluctantly do because we happen to be unavoidably confined together in an elevator or a waiting room.
Friends and family call and write to wish you well, but it feels like they are celebrating the fact that you are a year closer to circling the drain. What's to celebrate? Meanwhile, my bucket list runeth over and there is still plenty of man juice in the tank.
