Space Dreams

Pointniner showed me this and I cannot believe I’d missed it. Of course, I like his comment, “Does this mean we have corporate-owned ICBMs now?” and have to give it the jaded eyebrow raise. Still, how lovely to see private business taking over this line of endeavor. About damned time. (Even though I have nothing but love for the poor geeks stuck in the NASA mire…)

Yeah, I wiped away a tear or two. Good on ya.

AF, Personal Wing, and…Michael Martin Murphey

So bear with me because it’s gonna be a scattershot sorta post. I actually went out today and drove now that the meds are mostly behind me. Met the Trooper for lunch and he related to the guests his tale of the morning.

He was a little tuckered out and moving slow, eating his breakfast as a call went out on the radio to the locals – a pony running free in the roadway. Cackling, he grabs his cell and reaches dispatch as the green Deputy accepts the call on the radio.

“I’ll pay you $5 to get on the radio and say the pony’s name is Wildfire…” It wasn’t 5 seconds later…”Complainant advises pony’s name is Wildfire.” You could hear the laughter across the county and the young guy does NOT put it together. On scene, he even confirmed with the owners that the name was, indeed, Wildfire so that he could accurate note it in the report. Word is they just looked at him. It wasn’t until he had closed out the call and was in office asking, “What did it matter what its’ name was…oh, damn it!”

For those of you not getting the joke because you’re too damned young – pardon the earworm:

This morning I also spent time looking at vids for Air Force BMT – Basic Training. I was curious what it might be like for my stepdaughter in a month or so. Lucky gal will get to be one of the first to get the new 8.5 wk course vs. the current 6.5 wk. She’s in the middle of a training routine to prepare for it, taking the month to run, swim, and workout so that she can be at weight and ready to go. She’ll spend a week or two home with us, getting some final finishing from Trooper/Sarge. Maybe some low crawl tips, gun training, salute refinement…that sort of thing. Oh, and bed making. That man can make a bunk to spec like nothing I’ve ever seen. Might have to take her to Academy here to show her the basic concept.

It’ll be nice to have her nearby in San Antonio for awhile even if we can’t visit her. I’m proud that she’s going with this option as she is frankly flailing about right now and it will do her good to have some stability as well as time to make a plan and see it through. I think it will kick her ass to start, being a very talkative and authority questioning type. But in the end it may be just what she needs. It certainly won’t hurt her.

And then there is this – ah, what genius, what courage…and that grin. The man is not young but his age does not show here. Look for the smile. Tip of the prop to LawDog for it…as he says – if you have to ask why you just aren’t gonna understand the answer.

The flight was broadcast live for the National Geographic Channel. Its producer, Kathryn Liptrott, told the BBC Mr Rossy was fearless. “When we’ve talked to him and asked him are you worried about risk his quote consistently is: I’m not worried about risk, I manage risk.

“He flew Mirage fighters for the Swiss army, he now flies an Airbus. And in his sort of heart he’s a pilot and a parachutist and what they do is manage risk.”

“Manages risk.” I think a great many corporate leaders could learn a lesson from those two little words. Because all they’ve managed is to stick it to you and me again. And walk away. Frankly, they should be shot. In another time, on another world, that sort of thing would be a hanging offense. Not a word of contrition…no surrender of bonuses and salaries to repair what they’ve done. And nothing from those morons on parade who have taken from you because they could, because they were enabled by corporations who just wanted the money NOW. Fuck later. Well, later’s here.

If you want to truly see the depths of ignorance, go ahead and read this. No, wait – the chickenshit edited the post. Because we’re fascists, dontcha know? Cool thing is – cache, baby.

I know that people think me mad when I say that this whole thing – everything you know – is going to burn. It is going to hell a-flame and if you aren’t ready for it it’s your own damned fault. Because there is an entire GENERATION of people like her coming of age and voting. And you can see that they haven’t a clue – not a one – about logic, honor, integrity or even “don’t fuck over everyone else because you are a clueless moron”. I cannot comprehend it – even when I was young I was never like that. I understood consequences. I could unravel a thought or debate a point. But it’s the twilight, my friends. And a long, cold winter to come.

Hold the presses

So, ok. I saw this at the Shewolf and wished I was in school so I could throw my hand in the air and ask some grownup HOW the made that neat but sorta blah black snakey snake thing into this.

Then I read the wiki thingy which said, “Mercury(II) thiocyanate (Hg(SCN)2) is a chemical compound. It was formerly used in pyrotechnics for the long snake-like ash Pharaoh’s serpent that forms when a pellet of this compound, often with a small amount of a sugar such as glucose added to serve as supplemental fuel, is ignited. This is extremely dangerous because it produces poisonous mercury vapors.”

Fine. Great. So I guess 1) I can’t get one? and 2) the ones I used to burn by the dozens and inhaled gently the smoke because I kinda liked it – am I gonna die or somethin’? Well, maybe not since the dumb ol’ wiki told me it wasn’t the same.

Anyway, it has been an inspiring video. Just two more hours before Trooper gets home and I can be entertained. OMG – Mythbusters needs to make a GIANT one…



`k. Bye.

Aviation Fun

So I am working but the lunchtime meds always make me sort of goofy. So I tend to wander the net and waste time. Point Niner had this…pickin’ on the Air Force – a timely thing since my stepdaughter enlists in a month or so.

I was thinking the other day about the lunatic who gave me the wheel of his Grumman Traveler for a half dozen flights. (He wrote a hilarious book about aviation but you cannot get it from Amazon at a decent price anymore. I shall loan my own copy if you pinky swear that you will send it back…) Joel had this idea that he would teach me in a zen manner – give me the controls and let me find their impact on the plane through experience.

Now, I know the general concepts, terminology, and kinda sorta the physics of the thing. But to be in the air and watch him settle back and gesture to the wheel…a dream come true and a nightmare. We would leave from RYY, a nice, small airport. He’d head to a slightly distant non-monitored location where he did his touch and go’s and I’d do my best to avoid doing my worst.

I had this…well, I like to carve those turns on that approach L thing. And I did it a bit too aggressively. So after that touch and go (which he always cared for) he took us up rather high and then showed me what happens when you are too aggressive and dump too much air off the wing. Uh….yeah….it cured me. LOL

But we never did get to do the one thing I’d hoped for – I wanted to touch a cloud. Taste it. But the truth is that clouds aren’t always kind to planes so while we were always looking for a good candidate, it never did work out.

Now, that immaculate aircraft is pleasing someone else since he sold it recently. And it has been years since those hours in the air. But I still remember it so well. What fun, what incredible freedom and pleasure and fun!

Joel was, for me, exactly the person I needed in my life at that time. Heck, at any time. He is a raconteur, a genius, a goofball, and a true gentleman. And his codex has directed me when in time of need. It contains so many lovely sentiments. Such as, “Put absolute limits on the extent to which you allow others to manipulate your life.” I mean, right there is a solution to a thousand problems that people have.

Anyhoo…that’s about it, I guess. And yes, I have wasted far too much time but…it’s been a nice trip down memory lane.

Can I Shop Yet?

I know, I know – it’s all a POS out there in the world but I don’t care because it is all about me and my tiny hooters, people.

If you haven’t met me – which is 98% of you – then you have no idea from whence I came. But you may be familiar with Beth – Dog The Bountay Huntah’s wife – and you get the general idea. (As an aside, she MUST have some lovely custom long line bras and/or corsetry. Period.)

I have dealt with that…burden…since I was 12. Oh, it took a decade to get to their max. But it was one hell of lot of pain, trouble, and shopping misery. So I am thoroughly thrilled to be considering all those things I always denied myself. Empire waists. Dear GOD, the empire waist tops that I shall own!! And halter tops. Strappy camisoles, too. And…yes…I may even one day go out in public sans bra altogether! But the best thing? The BRAS. And no more $80 numbers unless I WANT to.

People, I can waltz into VS and get something off the rack. The thought just flat out amazes me.

At any rate, the healing progresses. I can start to feel the nerves repairing themselves. I went out for the first time tonight, getting a comfort burger and just LOVING it. Even with the “grenades” stuck in a sack at my side. (That is Trooper’s term for the drains which of course led to the concept of pus grenades and their benefit in protest marches or anarchy.)

While eating, I made a face. He asked me why and I said, “Imagine the cat holding on for dear life to the nipple with all four paws’ worth of claws…” We cackled and then the pain was gone. FUN! I reckon I’ve about 6 months of those interesting moments.

But right now? I cannot wait until the drains come out…just have to wait for Friday. I hope the surgeon likes her work. To be honest, I haven’t really bothered to get all excited about the detailed condition of the puppies. I mean, I am already thrilled. As long as they are relatively normal looking, I’ll be happy.

C’mere, catalogues…


Hot damn, but that shower was lovely…definitely better than the 4 days backpacking shower though with rather more fear involved.

This dandy bit of gear ensured the last 3 days were quite tolerable. Though now that it is removed (yes, at home, pre-shower, by Trooper) I am starting to get a sense of the pain I was missing. I suspect the ice packs will be getting some use, now.

It was frightening to take off the bra, knowing that the Frankenboobs awaited. Scary, too, the bandages…I am usually quite brave but this is so different. Innards could become out-ards with a bad cough. But…I have seen flesh that I have not glimpsed in 30 years. No, no – it wasn’t decrepit severely obese rotting flesh. It was pristine, virginal, soft as kittens…

I look fracking TALLER.

If I give it too much thought I get the creeps so I try to just let it be. But…it’s done. Except…

The persistent cough.

Yep, even with the antibiotics. So in case that lovely post-surgery pneumonia decides to rear its ugly head I shall be calling the surgeon’s office in the morning to ensure we don’t need to do anything more about it. Could just be that 17 years of smoking. Or an overly aggressive intubation. Or a microbe that managed to wend its way in against all modern medical miracles.

My goodness, but I was a baby about it. Trooper smartly said nothing – “Just a bit more tape here…” rather than “Here’s me yanking about a foot of catheter line out of your boobs!”. The slightest tickling sensation…but nothing of concern. Still…one wonders…am I a guinea pig? A canary in the coal mine for the product? I hate being an early adopter. But…the lack of pain? Magical.

Amazing, too, the amount of sleep…two hour naps breaking the days apart. Strength regained. But still…that wobbly temperature bothers me. That and the cough. Nothing spiky or frightening but…hell, it’d suck to get through this macro procedure and be layed low by something microscopic.

Strangest – the dog seems to know…subdued as can be. A nosing, a lick, but no jumping into bed, no paws on me. Sweet, sweet…..thanks to all for the kind thoughts and kick-ass prayers. Definitely benefitted from them.

By the Numbers

I thank God for my husband…

Time for meds – check.

Measure drains – fucking disgusting and check.

Thermometer – digits fluctuating by the hour – check.

Bathing me gently with care for the nethers – check.

About to discover the impact of high antibiotics on digestion – check.

Bless that fine man…and all our friends…esp the one heading to Houston so that he wouldn’t have to. Just damn.