Ponderings and Musings

Earl and I are sitting at a local pastry shop doing the thing one usually does at a Starbucks, except we are not drinking coffee and we don’t have a Starbucks within 45 miles of our home. Hence, we are sitting a locally owned establishment that has more pastries available than Panera. They also have a few more bugs in the display cases here but not to worry, the staff is so relaxed that they sip on their mocha-cocha-cha-cha-la-la whilst they’re taking your order. All that’s missing is a handlebar mustache.

As we were driving here, sitting at the randomly placed traffic signals, I noticed that two of our six of the drivers in front of me (at the various locations) were hesitant to make that all-too-scary Right On Red. Right On Red is a perfectly valid, permissible and legal turn to make in New York State, outside of the five boroughs of the Big Apple. Earl and I occasionally have a discussion about my observations of Right On Red hesitance; he reminds me that making that Right On Red turn is not mandatory, it’s completely up to the driver. I counter that Right On Red works no differently than a stop sign, and sitting at a red light, waiting to turn right for no other reason other than waiting for the light to turn green, is like sitting at a stop sign and waiting for it to dance.

Several years ago I overheard a co-worker telling another co-worker that she wasn’t going to let her daughter (who was learning to drive) make that all-too-scary Right On Red turn until she had her license. I had a silent yet demonstrative fit about this because this is counterintiutive to the learning process; when one is learning, one is building habits and confidence, and being essentially trained that Right On Red is something special and out-of-the-ordinary does neither to inspire confidence nor build good habits. It’s cowardice based on a perceived complication revolving around Right On Red and how scary it is.

A local community was recently Up In Arms about the fact that the Department of Transportation was looking to replace a traffic signal with a Roundabout. People came out in droves to protest the Roundabout, with the prevailing argument being that Roundabouts are scary and unfit for vehicle consumption. Someone should let the fine Ministries of Transportation throughout Europe know this, because European drivers seem to be able to navigate a Roundabout just fine and they even occasionally have to do it in the opposite direction of travel.

It really is a pity because as I become more proficient as a pilot, where you basically do everything as safely and as consistently as possible, I am finding that I have less and less tolerance toward the common motorist in the United States.

Maybe I need to become a driver’s license examiner or something.

It’s raining today here in Central New York. I should say that it’s raining again, because after an absolutely stunning weekend, it’s been raining a lot. And it isn’t even interesting rain. There’s no thunderstorms, no howls from the weather radio, no remarkable weather, just rain. The rain is suppose to continue through tomorrow.

The weather has me bummed, kind of like the “it’s the middle of February” bummed, but my mind is a little confused about this because after all, it’s the middle of June.

I think the weather blues are being compounded by sleep deprivation. Our fine furry feline friend has decided that nighttime is no longer the right time for humans to sleep. He is content to yowl at loud decibels at all hours after midnight and when he’s not yowling he is trying to sleep on my head. He is no longer content to sleep between Earl and me, he wants to be on my head.  As I am writing this blog entry, he is screaming at the door to go outside. I let him out and before I can make the three steps from the door to the chair, he is banging on the door to come back in. Perhaps he doesn’t like the rain. I know I don’t.

Always looking for the bright side of the situation, I should be happy that it’s raining this week because if the weather was beautiful I would be very frustrated by the fact that the airplane is grounded for maintenance this week. Here’s to hoping that the airplane gets finished and the weather clears up at the same time.

I told Earl this morning that I’m ready for an adventure of some sort. Normally I would do a little bit of retail therapy, but as I grow older I feign more responsibility, and retail therapy is not responsible right now.

I just need to see some sunshine.

On Saturday I went to the airport for our weekly safety meeting. I always find this enjoyable; I learn something both during the briefing and during the socializing with other pilots. Learning is good.

After the briefing I decided to go over to the hangar to check the status of the airplane; we were expecting some work to be done late last week and I wanted to see if it had been completed. I swiped my badge at the electronic checkpoint and pulled on the door to the big, corporate hangar. I couldn’t get in. As a sanity check, I tried again. The security mechanism was unlocking the door, but something else was holding the door in place. I figured there was a reason the door was locked and decided that I would try again on Sunday.

I went back on Sunday and had the same results, badge flashed affirmative, the door tried to unlock but something else was keeping the door locked. Perplexed, I went to the FBO (Fixed Base Operations) and asked the friendly woman at the desk why I couldn’t get to the airplane.

“There is a bunch of expensive equipment in the big hangar”, she replied with a smile on her face. When I asked as to how long we would be locked out, she told me that she didn’t know. There was something secret going on.

I convinced the nice person to have someone drive me across the flight line over to the airplane. On our way, I noticed a bunch of tents and such had been put up on the runway side of the buildings. Marines were working out in a makeshift workout area.

Later that day, I read that President Obama announced he would be coming to our area the following Thursday. He is going to the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown to tout the virtues of tourism in The Empire State.

At least I knew why the hangar was locked and why there were Marines working out on an Air Force Base that was decommissioned back in 1995.

On Monday a bunch of military jets and helicopters started doing drills around the area. Last night I decided it was a beautiful night to fly and I was going to snag the opportunity to do some practice landings. I knew I’d have a few more folks than usual as an audience, but I didn’t care because after all, flying is awesome. I went to the airport and used my badge to get through an alternate entrance. When I got to the hangar I found that there would be absolutely no way for me to get the airplane out and where I needed it to be without creating a whole lot of ruckus. There were a half dozen or so trucks parked directly in front of the hangar with twice as many Marines doing things to the trucks. They were measuring the distance from the bottom of the trucks to the ground, the width of the trucks and they were moving gear around. Off to the side were three large helicopters that I mentally dubbed “Marine One”, “Marine Two” and “Marine Three”. A C-17 was landing and a C-130 was in the pattern. Had I worked up the nerve to move this armada out of the way so I could get our Piper Cherokee out of the hangar, I would have been very busy and probably close to my distraction limit in relation to where I currently am as a student pilot. I can safely fly an airplane. Heck, I can even safely land an airplane, but as I’m still converting “routine” to “instinct”, sometimes I have to think an extra second and when you have a C-130 on your tail trying to land behind you, you don’t want distractions.

Since the Marines outnumbered me at over 12 to 1, I decided that I would forgo the opportunity to fly. This pissed me off beyond belief but I just knew that it was the responsible thing to do. I walked up to the hangar and closed the door that had been left open for me by another pilot. I made myself look official by doing a walk around and getting into the airplane and looking at the flight logs, just to show the Marines that I was a real airplane owner. I also made sure my flight line badge was prominently displayed at all times. After I closed the door and made my way to the gate, I nodded in the direction of the Marines and wished them all a good night. I was pleasant but I was pissed. The hangar that is all locked up has one door facing the driveway which sported the addition of a “No Cameras Allowed” sign smack in the middle of the window. I took a brief moment to take a gander inside. It was all very presidential in there.

The long and the short of it is this: President Obama better be making some sort of golden speech tomorrow because he’s kept me from flying this week and more importantly, judging by the amount of work and people involved with the preparation for these proceedings, this is costing the taxpayers a big chunk of change and honestly, I can think of quite a few better things to do with the money right now.

On the bright side, there’s a really good chance that Air Force One is going to fly over the house tomorrow and you can bet your sweet bippy that I’m going to grab a photo of that.

I am looking outside and marveling at the fact that it is the 30th of April. It is currently 42ºF. Rain is falling in buckets. The wind is blowing at 24 MPH. During the month of April I believe we have had maybe 5 days that have been April-like. To celebrate the arrival of May tomorrow, I moved my autumn wardrobe back into my closet. I am wearing a dark green shirt with orange and brown stripes. If there were any leaves on the trees they’d probably be ready to fall.

To say that I am frustrated by this streak of underwhelming weather would be an understatement. By this time last year I had a couple of hundred miles on my bicycle. This year I have clocked in a whopping 10.62 miles. I am not amused.

As a private pilot I logged more flight time during the winter months than I have thus far this spring. Something is amiss with that equation and I find it disheartening. I am so very close to making my next aviation goal, but I can rarely find weather conditions that are conducive to practicing landings and the like. I desperately try to not get depressed about it, but it feels like my winter blahs are lingering a bit longer this year.

This morning I asked Earl if he had any job opportunities in San Diego. He does not. I’m starting to wonder if they need ditch diggers on the Panama Canal.

One of the special treats about this weather is that our cat is still trying to go in and out of the back patio door as if he hadn’t a care in the world. He spends approximately 46 seconds on either side of the door at any given time, before wanting to move to the opposite side of the door. This could be adding to the frustration I am feeling with this weather.

During my chiropractor visit yesterday, the doc mentioned that the forecast showed this weather continuing for the next 10 days. He then marveled that my back seemed tighter than usual. Of course it is, this crap makes me tense.

I started my “winter vitamins” again this morning with the hope of boosting up my Vitamin D levels. I don’t know if they’re low or not but extra Vitamin D can sometimes feel like sunshine in a friendly capsule.

Plus, they’re less calories than beer.

I was doing some random reading on the web earlier this week and a conspiracy site suggested that President Obama had the Jet Stream relocated. They had a brief discussion about how fighter jets were used to latch onto the Jet Stream and pull it further south to combat the effects of Global Warming. Aside from trying to figure out how one would actually latch onto the Jet Stream, I briefly bemused the thought of anyone in the U.S. Government doing anything that would require any sort of imagination. And then I was amused by the fact that someone suggested that the U.S. Government did anything at all. That’s a funny one, right there. If the Jet Stream can’t pay taxes, why would they drag it farther down south?

The furnace just kicked on to combat the opening and closing of the patio door so Sir Indecisive can go out and make sure that the plants are still accommodating to his litter box habits. I’m going to go put on a sweater.

A certain someone of the feline persuasion just ventured outside (with supervision) for the first time since moving into our happy little home a couple of months ago. Scooter is still getting his routine around here down; he hasn’t figured out the differences between “meal time” and “sleep” and he’s an early riser (breakfast at 3:00 a.m. anyone?), but he’s starting to get his bearings.

Since today is the first time it has been above 60ºF this year, I thought I’d spend a little time out on the front porch during my lunch hour. I motioned for Scooter to come out with me, but he didn’t want any part of the shenanigans I was engaging in, so he scooted around the house at a high rate of speed. He then realized that I was still on the front porch.

There’s a saying about cats and curiosity…

Anyway, it only took two rattles of the front porch door to get the human to get up from his comfortable position in the sun and let Mr. Scooter outside, but when I went to open the door, Scooter ran back. I decided to leave the front door open and let him come out on his own. It took a bit and the steps were filled with trepidation, but he finally came out to where I was sitting on the steps. He made a few cursory checks of the area through his very active nose and then decided he had had enough and starting ripping around the house again.

Apparently all of this activity has deemed him worthy of a nap. He is now relaxing and undoubtedly pondering his exploratory mission of the day.

I have had a life-changing experience this week. It’s a small thing, but sometimes a very small thing can have a very large impact on one’s life. This change, this modification, has significantly improved my comfort and added a most pronounced spring to my step.

For the first time in 45 years, I have altered the way I lace up my shoes.

If you look closely, you’ll notice that my laces go straight across, instead of the criss-cross method I’ve used since mastering the art of tying my shoes during my first months of kindergarten.

When I learned to tie my shoes, there was something about the bunny going around the tree and jumping through a hoop to make his own hoop. I never understood the logistics of all this imagery, and quite frankly, I was labeled as “possibly development disabled” because I entered kindergarten without being able to tie my shoes. I didn’t color within the lines, either and I also committed the cardinal sin of “jamming” my homework into my book bag. I just think Mrs. Mosher (“no child is any different from any other child”) didn’t know what to do with me since I obviously didn’t fit into her stereotypical expectations. Clearly, I was too fabulous.

I’m digressing.

Once I mastered tying my shoes during those first shaky weeks of kindergarten, I celebrated by watching a girl named Tanya cut off her bangs with the construction paper scissors whilst I ate paste.

Calm down, I’m joking and still digressing. I’m joking about the paste. Tanya did cut her hair and I have no idea why she did that.

Actually, once I mastered tying my shoes I chalked that up to a philosophy that I still obey to this day: “set it and forget it.” The thing is, I like my shoes tied really tight and with that whole criss-cross method that I learned back in 1973, I ended up with pain in the top of my feet that has gotten worse over the years. I’m not cutting off my circulation or anything, because my doctor was overly enthusiastic about the fact that you can take and SEE my pulse in my feet (it’s not gross or anything), but at the end of the day in my dress shoes or my pilot shoes (pictured above), I’ll feel the pain associated with the dent in the top of my foot from my tightly tied shoes.

Enter the Internet. Now, I’m not much of a foot guy (though years ago I did know a guy who loved my boots to the point of really loving my boots) but as I grow older I try to find a sophisticated sense of style and apparently there’s a better way to tie one’s shoes.

In fact, this site features 41 ways to lace up shoes, and after careful analysis, I have settled in on “straight bar” lacing.

My shoes are still tight but I no longer have the high amount of pressure pressing down on the top of my foot. This morning I was able to walk six miles before work and my feet never complained once about my shoes being too tight. They felt very comfortable and very solid.

This makes me a happy man.

So last night I dreamed of several fellow bloggers that I have met over the years. The folks frolicking in my dream are all nice folks and live in various parts of the country, though in my dream we were all partying together in a nondescript, warm locale having a grand old time.

I think this dream was my subconscious telling me that I should continue writing in this blog, because I have met some mighty fine people via this blog over the years.

And to those that were in the dream last night, hello!

Once in a while I’ll take the long way home after a day at the office. This helps me separate the work day from home life and honestly, it’s a pretty drive when I take the long way, even during a long winter such as this one.

The long way home involves driving through a small hamlet called Stone Arabia. This little hamlet is situated along NY Route 10 and is primarily flat farmland to the north of the Mohawk Valley. Many Amish live in the area. The wide open spaces feel very comfortable to me, even with the winter winds whipping across the farmland.

If Earl ever told me that he wanted to live in an old farmhouse again, we’d definitely look for something around this tiny little hamlet. I could find it quite peaceful there.

There are plenty of old, stately farmhouses in the area. I thought this photo captured a great moment at the end of a great day.