Pouting

OK, lets get something straight. Yes, this is my world and yes, snow is part of my world BUT … I don’t have to like it. In fact, considering it has been one week and one day I must say I am not adjusting to this business at all. True, I am grateful that at least I did not return home to minus thirty.

Let me say I am bless with lots of learning lately, the ordinary stuff that people do as situations arise and are resolved. My preferred method of intense denial does not always work. In some cases, it is OK, simply to gain time to figure out “what” to do about a situation but in NO circumstance is DENIAL SUFFICIENT for action. Eventually something has to be done about situations. It has occurred to me of late that my capacity to deny, deny, deny has bitten me in the “asterberry” more than once.

However, nice that I am a work in progress and that each day I am provided with many opportunities to learn and to do things differently. In fact I suspect at the end of the day there are even “left over” opportunities that can be used the next day! … I am THAT lucky.

Onward and forward – for sure, I know, the lesson will be presented to me until I learn it. It is, I suspect, part of that whole scenario of “When the student is ready the teacher will be there.

Ah yes, time for me to re-read The PROPHET, by Kahlil Gibran

2 Much

www.stupidvideos.com/video/commercials/Cat_Herding

I've not figured out how to post videos but this particular one was just too funny to pass up. It reminds me of my week. I've only been home one day less than a week and there are scratch marks in the earth of me wanting to stop the world so I can get off. Yep, been one of those weeks where herding cats would have been easy.

DEFINITLY not me, I have the sense to wear running shoes, etc

I lay debating the merits of pulling myself out of bed @ 5:00AM. I had seen 12:30, 3:00 and 4:00AM and was presently negotiating, telling myself I could go use my friend’s cross trainer, there was no need to go to the gym. Mentally, I slotted it in to occur right after lunch – when have I ever exercised after a meal? Never, nothing more than having a good brisk sit.

The benefit of an early rise was no traffic on the way down town and a good parking spot. At some point on the trip I realized that I had not taken my ipod and I was predicting that the TV would be super loud as it prime time.

The “cardio room” was almost at full attendance and I was only able to secure one of the trainers marked “If there are people waiting please restrict your time to twenty minutes”. Now, I’m thinking whoo-hoo, maybe I will have to give up this machine to the next person coming in the room. Throughout my session I watched in the mirror to insure there was at least one other cross trainer available. Now the truth of that statement is more like ….”through out the session I kept hoping tons of people, well OK, 3 or 4, would come into the room, thus forcing me to end my exercise session”. To my dismay people continually dismounted from equipment, no doubt to get on with their day of work. My session was the usual 30 minutes but today there were no bursts of speed and the ol’ heart rate was right up there with very little effort.

On my walk to the car I thought a piece of ash was headed towards me and I moved my head to avoid it. Ash? Ash? Highly unlikely! By the time I drove home there was a full scale snow squall occurring – good heavens, can’t even recognize snow, so I guess it is about time I re-introduced myself to my life!

Cats are very attentive, especially Spook which really surprises me – something tells me they have not seen my “To Do” list where “cat nail trim” is number one on the list.

I've No Idea ...

I've no idea what this is about but I fugure I better keep up with "my-niece-the-librarian-and-acting-academic-coordinator" (Gad, I wish she would get a job with a shorter title!)

Your results:
You are Derrial Book (Shepherd)

Derrial Book (Shepherd) 80% Malcolm Reynolds (Captain) 70% Wash (Ship Pilot) 70% Kaylee Frye (Ship Mechanic) 70% Zoe Washburne (Second-in-command) 65% Dr. Simon Tam (Ship Medic) 60% Alliance 60% Inara Serra (Companion) 55% Jayne Cobb (Mercenary) 35% River (Stowaway) 35% A Reaver (Cannibal) 10%

Even though you are holy you have a mysterious past.

Click here to take the Serenity Firefly Personality Test

A Different Kind of Night Flight

How does it come about that I am ALWAYS behind the family with four kids, or the couple who have incredibly complicated travel plans with many layovers and detours, or worse yet, about to step up to the counter and some guy emerges from my left or right with a fistful of tickets that are in mid-process unbeknownst to me? Fidgety, impatient, not wanting to leave yet wanting to rip myself away the same way one remove adhesive tape, finally my turn, I lay down the ticket, the passport and mumble “no checked” luggage. This lady has NO IDEA was a feat “no checked luggage” is. She prepares the passes, all of them, all the way through to YYC indicating that I will clear Customs in YVR. In my head I am thinking the ONLY good thing about Vancouver is the fact that I will be on my way elsewhere. “Security is right behind us but you should go to the right and you will find a short line call Gold … mumble mumble …” This is not doubt the umpteenth time she has said the same phrase today, it is 9:00PM and the tropical night is close with the smell of flowers, exhaust fumes from the open structure of the terminal building and a hint of decay as there always seems to be around lush vegetation.

Folk in front of me are arranging and re-arranging clothing, shoes off, into the bin, jackets, phones, change, sometimes a belt or watch are placed hurriedly into plastic containers as vigilant security folk peer at each of us as if …Several times over the PA the announcement has been that security is at level “orange”, heightened security. Don’t get me started on this … Idly I watch how individuals cope with the scrutiny, some folk obviously nervous, others annoyed, most tolerant. The “Gold” line moves much more swiftly than the longer, what shall we say, “Non-Gold” line. Folks in this line seem to have “been there done that”, there are no delays from instructions like “take the change out of your pockets”; “do you have a cell phone?”, “Sir, you have to remove your jacket”. No, these folks are seasoned and offer no resistance either consciously or otherwise to the system.

I shift tiredly in the plastic seat in the holding area, my back pack as a foot rest. The agent is working hard at trying to entice folk to pay and extra $54.00 for five extra inches of leg room. “Hurry, hurry, hurry” he chants, “these seats are going fast” – in fact the seats are not going fast at all. Finally a tallish, young lady takes him up on his offer, holds her arms straight up and she is applauded by the band of bored captives otherwise known as airline passengers.

The agent announces boarding, first the infirm, then anyone under two and elite, super elite, the annoying or whatever, I DO recognize that I am included in the early list. I start toward the chute and the agent that will actually take the Boarding pass tells me “Go around” as I start to shortcut. I take the long way around only to find that she has let everyone else through the shorter way. I’m steamed and when she takes my Boarding pass, I look her in the eye and say: “Why did you tell me to go around?” Totally and truly this is more for my benefit than hers as I know she has NO CLUE whatsoever who I am or what she told me less than two minutes ago. The only reason I say anything is because, if I don’t, I will feel victimized and it is a long, long night to stew.

Because I was held back, well … maybe because I was held back, my seat mate is seated, an older very portly oriental man. He eases himself out of his seat to allow me passage and of course I make up all kinds of problems I will be having – just because I’m in a snit, probably about leaving but who knows, maybe I’m just a snitty traveler! It seems to take a long time to get clearance to taxi to the runway and finally pull into the night. The plane lifts off as if there is a giant vacuum in the inky black of the sky pulling us upward. We pass downtown, Waikiki, turn at Diamond Head, pass over Kaneohe and then … an isolate light and we are wrapped as if in a camera box … or perhaps, we have truly been vacuumed up by the night sky ….. Tonight’s night flight did not include a 180 degree turn and a leisurely return to HNL while being entertained by the freeway lights and traffic. Tonight’s flight will be into daylight at SFO to continue the journey…

Only in Hawaii, You Say?!? ... Pity!

As my time on the Island grows short I feel somewhat driven to attempt, by various means, to capture the spirit and meaning of my time here. OK “driven” is too strong a word as nothing, absolutely NOTHING ever seems to be driven by much urgency here, except perhaps the wailing sirens of the ambulances. It seems any time an ambulance is in motion, it is on urgent business as the sirens sounds even at 3:00AM when there is scant, if any traffic on the main drags.
Today is nearly as perfect a day as what one expects here, cloudless, except those kept at bay by the Koolau and Waianae ranges, calm breezes, really pleasant – unless of course you are trying to do any sort of manual labour in which case it would be miserable as the ambient humidity prevents sweat from evaporating to perform its cooling function. Anywhooo as I was walking to lunch, being Valentine’s day and all, my Valentine was treating ME, as I was walking to lunch I spied the neighbour’s koi ( a fancy name for “carp) and I was reminded of how unique Hawaii is in some respects. Now koi can be very, very valuable, depending on their markings and so on.. The neighbour has bought himself a child’s inflatable swimming pool, assembled a pump and stocked it with a number of quite pretty specimens. The larger of the koi are patterned while the fry resemble gold fish, REALLY resemble gold fish. Perhaps the patterning does not emerge until the fish mature. Maybe even, the patterns are something that the fish EARN if they escape being eaten by their pool mates? When I first arrived the pool bottom was clearly visible but that is not so now, as algae seems to be making serious inroads. I can’t help but wonder what a few months will bring … will the fish all have expired because of toxic, choking waters? Will the air-filled plastic/rubber sides of the pool be collapsed as a result of algae rot? Who knows!
Another unique feature of this place is the neighbourhood and beyond Thursday through Saturday swap. The county, it seems, has agreed that it is better for them to pick up large household items rather than have such things carted to the upcountry/back country and abandoned. A round-island trip reveals a number of abandoned autos, appliances and just junk, so the county’s decision is probably well founded. All manner of item can be seen on any given Friday afternoon and evening. The county, wanting to keep things somewhat tidy, admonish contributors to restrain themselves to Friday afternoon curbside deposit for Saturday morning removal. The more keen or ernest type start to haul stuff out Thursday … the less earnest seem to miss the point entirely and hual stuff curbside anytime, including Sunday – the Sunday deposit ensures maximum viewing and opportunity to disintegrate further as the week progresses.

As noted, discards can include televisions, lamps, stoves, refrigerators, couches, mattresses … anything. The “AS IS” really is “as is”. If you take away something it may work, may not, may electrocute you, may introduce a whole new variety of pests into your home. It is all an adventure. Certainly we have deposited a few things, like a storage bin whose bulk made it very unfriendly as a storage convenience; I think too, a lamp or two might have made it way to the reject pile. It is really kind of amusing, the “as is” thing in that I know back home, there was a huge “hue and cry” about the possibility of being held liable should something you sell at a garage sale cause harm to the purchaser – ironic given our southern neighbour’s propensity for legal action precipitated by injury, real or imagined!


The last thing I wish to note today, for those of you who have “stayed tune” is the bands around the trees. The aluminum rings about 8’ high are not to beautify. No, they are to prevent RATS from nesting in the tree tops and prevent them from climbing the trees to raid the nests of the birds who claim a home there. There is also some concern that rats would or might loosen the coconuts causing them to crash down randomly on the heads or cars of those in the vicinity of the palm. Every few years the county send out pruners to cut down the fruit and remove fronds that are nearing their shedding stage. These pruners are not to be mistaken for arbourists. They are rough men with kerchiefs tied around their neck, machetes, gloves and rubber boots. It is a dirty, hot job and should encourage any onlooker to stay in school at best, or at least, “don’t quit your day job”. I should add, I’ve never seen a rat here, never even evidence of its passing and perhaps the locals tell me these things just to alarm me, knowing that being of pale skin, a haole, I am easily intimidated by these and “other” things (not geckos though, I like geckos ‘cause they eat “other” things and are a sign of luck)!
So, now I am in serious count down stage and it is with pleasure that I watch the thermometer back home inch its way up from -30 wind-chill to a mere -14 degrees – it is still tough to compete with 28C … all of them above zero

Night Flight

I shifted my weight a bit on the fender of the car, feeling the warmth from the engine creeping up my bare legs. The sky to the west was still showing the warmth of the day although night, dark night had taken over most of the sky. The lights of the taxi way looked like hovering fire flies caught in a net of dark to make them unmoving.

Swish, swish of the security guards bicycle as he pedaled himself around the parking area paying attention to the lounging stranger yet acting as if he didn’t care. Clearly, at less than five foot two I posed no danger to him – although one might note that many of the population around here seemed to be between that height and five foot six. In any case I deserved no more than a noting glace. How did I come to be here in so casual a lounge? Night flight? Who would have thought that I would jump in a plane and cruise over a metropolitan area with the only other choices being mountainous terrain or black ocean. Love of flying, I feel my chest tighten and my heart race a little as I thought of soaring aloft … but at night?

I was reminded of the short flight the other day, a quick course along the north-west edge of the Island, a generous gift from a flying friend. Funny, funny, at home I would NEVER, ever jump in a plane to go anywhere with only sandals and there I was, locked in a strange kind of soul freeing ecstasy. The offer came and spontaneously I thought it the best deal of day spent painting the compass rose. We soared and watched the evidence of a whale breach, the foamy testament to its presence below the surface. With an eye to the gliders, tow planes, ultra-lights and the more insistent drone of the big brother twin, laden with those who would leave a perfectly functioning aircraft, we came in on final with a lovely view of our recent handiwork to the left, marking the lines only visible through the urging of the whiskey compass.

We spoke briefly of the possibility of a night flight, the aviatrix saying it would only be brief, if it were to occur at all. Brief? Brief, says I, the quintessential family pup when it comes to airplane rides! My thinking being, even to sit in a plane with the engine running and the potential of flight, even that stirred my heart. “Call me, call me if we can make this happen.”, I asked.

The night had grown in its velvet closeness as idly I snapped a few night shots of the runway and a couple of aircraft landing, knowing full well that they would be the pits as my camera just wasn’t up to the task. Hugh, bulky thing that it was, gazillion pixels but not of them particularly efficient at night. I resumed my roost on the fender waiting and listening to the call of what I later learned were small birds that inhabit the airport grounds. To me, neither knowing bats nor rats, I was convinced it was one of the two, more so, bats as they seemed to communicate with each other here, then there, then somewhere else and sometimes more than one.

Headlight appeared at the parking entrance and soon the car was pulled in opposing mine. “I have to get out of my high heels and into my flying boots”, she said. “Oh and I have tee shirts, we’ll talk later”.

Expertly she performed the preflight for the little Musketeer, after calling out to her as we walked across the asphalt. It sounded like “How are you baby” – maybe I made that up, maybe that’s what I WOULD have said, always sensing that aircraft, at some level, have the soul of a gallant steed and certainly for me, seemed to know my fears and capitalize on them.

The single piston came to life with no prodding, the instruments were bathed in sight-saving crimson as various values, trends and measures were noted, permission to taxi was granted. The radio transmissions were all garbled to my ear but the pilot responded with confidence and decisiveness; from her end of the conversation I was able to discern the runway, hold shorts and other instructions.

As we crossed one runway to our take off position I noted the light of a “heavy” reaching out to us and I momentarily wondered if he would make the correct choice – “of course”, I’m thinking, anything to make this more dramatic. We are cleared, the small plane, anxious to join the dark sky lifts easily off the runway and we head over to the freeway, our assigned position for our outward bound leg.

Dark, dark gaping areas, large, large ones, which envelop the Island edge, I know are ocean; the smaller ones, Diamond Head Crater, Coco Head, Eva plains. The lights of the city are like precious stones thrown across a velvet cloth, the undulations, the result of the folds and crevices of the cloth. Downtown and Waikiki are remarkable in the attempt of their lights to reach up and out. We see a cruise ship headed out to see. Tonight those folks will retire fresh from Honolulu, tomorrow to experience a new island. It is dwarfed on the ocean but we know it is a large ship just in relation to the lights around it. We can maybe see some light on Molokai; we believe this in our minds and have no taste for flying across the water to confirm our guess.

My ears are attune to the engine; it misses no beat, the idea of carb ice, foreign to this little beauty. Still, in some corner of my heart I wonder what the options are. We radio to confirm our 180 to return to the airport and on our return I am struck by the slashes of continuous light, known as the H1, H2 and H3. The H2 somehow strikes me in its tidiness, perhaps because I was on that freeway just the other day, having had more luck than planning, getting on to it so that I could get to Dillingham. It is much less tidy and defined at ground level. I am strangely conscience of my book bag at my feet, hoping that it is secure and will not coil itself around the rudder pedals like some treacherous beast should the little plane buck, shiver or otherwise misbehave. This is a very odd preoccupation given the craft has not given us one moment of concern and the bag has not moved an inch since our takeoff. While I note this, I explain it to myself as anxiety as I am not a night flyer and have huge doubts about the naturalness of flying at night – all excuses for my failure to achieve the rating I suppose, but that is a whole other story ….

We begin our transition …..

Busy Bodies ...

Today we painted the compass rose at Dillingham Airfield (PHDH). There was a bit of a breeze which played havoc with the fresh paint, grass clippings and fine gravel but all in all the effort was not wasted. The rose had not been painted for some twenty years so it was long over due. All morning we painted while the bird dog aircraft towed the gliders aloft, a few ultra lights joined the pattern and the twin took off to discharge their load of jumpers. After lunch one of the gals who owns a Beech Musketeer took me for a quick ride to Waimea Bay. We saw the results of a large whale breaching but it dove down and would not show itself when we flew over. Note on our approach and landing, the newly, almost completely painted compass rose.

My legs will be stiff from bending over and I’ve a bit of a burn but it was a lot of fun and I can say, with assurance, I’ve left my “mark” here!

... And the Winner Is ????

Humph! .... since no one will venture a guess I tried to attach an enlarged photo. Well it seems the only way to make it bigger is to put a cursor on it and click it a few times. Anyway, maybe it is because I've gazed at it so often that it looks so easy to identify.

In any case the identifiers I was looking for were PHNL and PHJR. The latter, Kalaeloa Airport is no doubt less well known as it is used by commuters and GA. This is where most "touch and go" practice takes place, sometimes daunting as there are huge fuel reservoirs on one approach and sometimes flaring of, I presume, gas. There is always a cross wind around here and I can recall lamenting that fact to a professional pilot - I was reminded of the necessity of running the runways to take up the least amount of space.

To you Nanook, yes, definitely far, far away from you and the kind of weather that you folk are experiencing. What can I say? I'm a wimp when it comes to cold and opportunity to escape if fully exploited by me.

One Adventure After the Other

Nothing but adventure I tell you, first the helicopter lift then the haircut … or was it the other way around? In the pictures of the helicopter lift, in one, it is very difficult to see the thing at all as it is the same colour as the building. It is about one third of the way down. Frequently this method is used to install air conditioners, boilers (which are housed on the roofs of buildings) and so on.

Don’t tell the cats that I hardly thought of them at all yesterday. Being cats, I’m quite sure they ceased thinking of me sooner, being more concerned about chow and the like and waiting for their visitor.

The weather here is much the same as yesterday and I’m thinking beach at some point today although some time will be devoted to lying in of staples and creating a nice environment for the next few months. There were no takers on my airport quizzes and I’m not telling you the answers. This weekend I will take some pictures of the airport rose painting – must admit, this is a first in terms of “potluck” picnic!

... And Extra Points

There are extra points involved if you are able to identify the airport and give the correct ICOA identifier and even more if you can identify the “other” one. For those of you with no clue as to what I am referring, scroll down a little and it is more than a hint.


The “girls” are no doubt thoroughly po’ed with me as I skulked out of the house under cover of darkness in the early morning – “they” thinking I am off to the routine of the gym and home soon to work etcetera. “Nice bonus”, they think, of the double order of canned food and the topped off dry stuff. “Yeah …. right… “, feelings of betrayal no doubt started creeping in within a few hours and now that it has been a couple of days – full scale anarchy!

After a day long meeting on Saturday, dinner with my big sister – who is on a “cleansing” thingy, so it was more like dinner with my B-I-L, “fixer-of-all-things-broken” accompanied by my sister looking on and being squeaky clean, I was able to make my escape.

Rumour has it that “Winterpeg” is living up to its name with temperatures in the realm of -49C! Gad, that is cold for anyone. This morning, here, at 7:30AM it was about 25C and it won’t get much warmer … well maybe 2 or 3 degrees but not like Texas in the summer, that’s for sure.

This weekend I think I will participate with the local group of women aviators and paint a compass rose at one of the airports. Sounds like fun and there will be a picnic to follow – a potluck picnic so we need to bring some stuff to share. Suntan lotion will be the order of the day and maybe some “wobbily pop” in the cooler – AFTER the compass rose of course.

Well, it is off to the “hairy” appointment as I have a “regular” here and I was unable to secure same before I left YYC.

Just Too Weird

According to some “researcher” at the University of Calgary bloggers are lonely, socially inept folk with poor social skills. In the interest of improving the situation for bloggers, I offer this link, sent to me by my big sister. Honest, you have an instant friend and since there are several voices, dialects and languages, you can have several new friends.

To be honest, I found it just too, too weird! Enjoy!

An for CanaGal …. I was miffed that I had to actively seek not to be boring … as I said, “who knew”????