'Swan' Gearing Up For Winter Flight

Sorry about the short posts and general absence from the keyboards of late. First and foremost, the body has been making it's final protested adjustments to the new work schedule/ routine-- three weeks in is about typical for the final surge of tiring before the giving in and toughening up commences in earnest...

That, and, as you men must know (or at least better be getting it on your mind, you attached ones! Else repercussions...) , St. Valentines day is fast approaching. Now, I was clued off to the event because it's imminent arrival seems to cause strange reactions in womenfolk. For instance, some airbourne infestation steadfastly convinces one or three of the creatures that I might actually have some inherent qualities previously overlooked by less observant fleamales; they get the notion that they need to spend a bit of time trying to pinpoint that certain je ne sais quois the MacMeister possesses.

Oh, they'll get over it in due time, but as long as whatever is in the air is circulating, I figure I may as well enjoy a french benefit or three...

And speaking of something "in the air"... Just what is up with the title of this post?

Ha! Thought you'd never ask!

Well, turns out I ain't a big believer in coincidence. I'm of the school of thought that things happen for a reason.

There was a reason I left an up-and-coming good-paying contract labor job in Beaumont to head Houston way. Didn't know at the time what the reason was, and mayhap it still hasn't revealed itself. But I do recognize serendipitous opportunity when it bites me on the anus...

See, turns out one of the owners of the company I recently contracted employ with also owns a flight school.

And me with a pilot's license in need of refresher...

A sign from the Gods, folks, if ever there were. Gods OR signs...

So Thor's day I go to Dr. Probyer Ectum's orifice to make sure I've a pulse that isn't insulin-diabetic dependent. Those qualifications met, the good stinking fingerman will give me what the Airspace Police (F.A.A.) refer to as an A.M.E-- an airman's medical ('he passed his exam') certificate.

Inside of a few weeks, I should be "current"-- that is, will have successfully completed my Biennial Flight Review (a two-year refresher, mandatory for all pilot's license holders) and be deemed qualified by someone who knows more than me to take any of you adventurous-spirited followers on an aerial tour of your garden. (Or your ex'es house; you wanna soil their britches, we can buzz low...)

The new job IS a goddessend, no doubt. Good money in an economy headed farther south than the equator; a chance to learn valuable skills in an industry I've not had any glimpse into prior; and mayhap a discount in hourly plane rental.

Why not take advantage of the green paper, while it's coming in and still accepted "As Legal Tender For All Debts..." to 'waste' some of it on what amounts to an expensive hobby?

The FLYING, you clowns... The chocolates and trinkets-- hey, once per anum does not a hobby make, Don Quixote...

Slainte, Folks! See ya in the skies!!

Cygnus