We bagged on Christmas on Christmas Eve. We were all up at my folks’ house, shooting the shit and watching the developing news regarding the weather.
When the weather turned to “winter storm warning” and “blizzard warning” we looked at each other and said a collective “That makes the decision making matrix pretty easy.”
Okay, so it was actually me who said that last part. Of all the ways I want to go out, dying in an accident on greasy SR196 in the middle of a blizzard doesn’t even break the top 100.
So yesterday, Christmas day, I spent my time watching the storm and watching movies.
I thought “The Space Between Us” was a SciFi movie. It was more a YA romance. Still pretty sweet. I am a sucker for Brit Robertson. At the rate she is aging (she is 28) she will be playing teenagers in her 50s.
I was scheduled to go flying tomorrow. After checking in with my instructor, and seeing the airfields FB page I realized it was unlikely to happen. They are not going to get the runways, let alone the taxiways and aprons cleared by tomorrow.
And 9JW is almost impossible to start below 20F. It is now 0F. She is cold soaking in that unheated hangar.
It just struck me, a moment of irony why Sailors always refer to our ships and aircraft in the feminine.
Because otherwise, there is no way in hell we would put up with their shit.
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