Skip to main content

Cream and Planes

Tonight we had a simple dinner on the patio--grilled steak with sauteed corn--not a big deal--I've had a stressful couple of days. After cleaning up, #2 came close to insisting that we go out for ice cream. There are a couple of options nearby, and we settled on the funky little place by the airport. The airport being a little one-runway strip where John Glenn first learned to fly as a young man. The funky little place being a trailer kind of thing that sells the greatest and cheapest ice cream. Because of some odd law, it can't stay in one place, the owners shut the thing down and move it a few feet over on the lot. The next day they move it back to the steps and open up.

As we walked over to a table in the grass, we eyed the small planes that were tied down inside the fence and saw a man walking toward the fence. Is that David? I asked, thinking it was a man we knew who was a pilot. Husband and #2 met him at the fence and chatted for a few minutes. #2 is a big fan of flying and has been begging for lessons for over a year. She was pretty interested in talking to David about flying.

Husband and #2 came back to the table to announce that they were going up for a little ride with not David, because that wasn't his name, but Dan. I'm bad with names.

We all headed over to the runway, Husband and #2 climbed into the little something with four seats and took off, and #1 and I sat on the bench out there by ourselves with all the planes. Interesting turn of events for the evening, we thought. The ride wasn't very long, and soon the plane landed and pulled right up to the bench so that we were just a few feet from the wing.

As everyone climbed out, Husband thanked Brad, because his name wasn't Dan, it turns out. We didn't know him as well as we thought. But now we do.

Back home, full of pistachio, and happy to fly.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

No More Mr. Nice Guy

It's good to be a nice person--to say nice things, to do nice things, to write nice things--but I declare an end to the use of the word nice. Nice is what you say when you can't think of any other adjective. Someone shows you a picture of their back yard--that's nice. Someone tells you about their afternoon adventure--that's nice. Or someone describes their childhood in great detail and sometimes with painstaking effort--that's nice. It's a lazy word, and it's non-descriptive. Nice is like mashed potatoes with noodles and chicken gravy all in a big pile on one plate with some canned corn for garnish. Everything is the same color and texture and base substance--starch (this is a favorite Amish dish). Nice is like a partly cloudy day in April when outside feels like inside, and you can't tell a difference between the lighting and the temperature of your living room and the lighting and temperature of your front yard. Nice is a glass of lukewarm water. ...

Ish People

Tell an Ish person to show up around 9 a.m., and you'll see them somewhere around 9 a.m. Tell them to show up at 9ish, and you'll see them anywhere from 9:05 to 9:20. You have given them license to dilly dally, and who wouldn't take advantage of that? The other night at the big shindig dinner party, one of the drummers said the rehearsal the next morning would begin at 9ish. "I am an ish person," he says. Immediately the clanker goes off in my head--oh, good, I thought. I can deliver my daughter a little late. No Ish person is early, so if you say 9ish, that does not mean give or take 5, 10, 15 minutes. It's exclusively a taking phrase. Take an extra 10 minutes to drink your cup of coffee. We won't mind. We're Ish people. Sunday's rehearsal started at 2:00. Because it was conducted by the same people who conducted the Saturday rehearsal, my understanding was 2-ISH. My daughter is worse than I am about taking liberties with Ish time frames, so she d...

Long Live Anita Bowser

You know I occasionally check my hometown newspaper's website to scan the obituaries (morbid, I know, but I'm at that age). Over this past weekend, I read the obituary of Indiana State Senator Anita Bowser . She was a noted Democrat who championed causes protecting the neediest in the state's population. She was respected on both sides of the aisle for her intelligence and plain and outspoken approach to law making. The picture on her senate page is lovely. I remember none of those things about Anita Bowser . My first year or so in college was spent at a branch of Purdue University, and in the early 80s, Anita was a political science professor. She taught my American Government class my freshman year, and she was a mess. Somewhere in my old text book, I have a sketch of her drawn on a particularly dull day in class--her hose sagged at her ankles, her slip showed at least half an inch all the way around, her hair had been slept on but not brushed, and her bright red lip stic...