1, 2, Minga! Sibiliance. . .Sibiliance. . .

I borrowed Noel Streatfield's Ballet Shoes on CD from the library so we could listen to it in the car. We got to it sooner than expected since tape 9 of LOTR is busted. :-( We actually own the book. In fact, we own several of the "Shoes" books, but though we started Ballet Shoes long ago, we somehow put it down and never finished. This was not for lack of it being a good book. It's a great book, but I think we were just sucked into a different theme at the time. Anyway, the CDs are very enjoyable and are read by an English lady who makes them sound just right, EXCEPT that her "s"s are SO sibilant that it nearly hurts my ears. Now here's something you should know about me to give that statement a little more impact. I haven't wrecked my hearing yet, but I love loud noises (at least of the right sort.) When I worked on F-16s, sometimes I would sneak off my headset while the engines were running just so I could get the full impact. And when we were at a Red Flag (fighter war games) in Nevada, I adored the British Tornados (as in really loud jet fighters, not swirling vortexes of dust and dirt) because they were so loud you could FEEL the sound - they made the bones in your chest vibrate. And yet this lady's "s"s hurt my ears. How can this be? It must be a frequency thing. *shrugs*

I sometimes miss working on airplanes. The good parts anyway. Our unit had A-10s before F-16s and they're a lot more mechanical and less electronic, so they're not so temperamental. The downside to this (for crew chiefs) is that they can fly in more adverse weather. I don't miss days like the one when it was so cold that when I went to close the ladder door it had frozen open and I had to go drag a big gas powered heater over to thaw it out. But I do miss being out there on the hot tarmac, tar lines squishing up around my boots, waving in my plane and climbing all over it for the postflight, or engine diving in that glossy white tunnel (that one's missing the actual engine) where I was always slightly freaked out in a horrifyingly thrilling sort of way that someone would start the engine on me. Or diving the exhaust on a broiling summer's day, while the plane was still hot, and feeling that wave of heat still rolling out and just baking me, knowing the kind of heat and power that had been flowing out such a short time ago through the very place where I was crouching now, looking for nicks and missing tailfeathers. Or doing EOR - End of Runway inspection and standing there on the curved taxiway watching snow snakes slither across the pavement and then seeing the big birds come rolling towards us like ghosts through the blowing snow.

Well, this wasn't supposed to turn into an airplane post. And now I've forgotten what else I had to say, and dh is not gruntled because he wants to start the movie. Apparently I told him "just a few minutes" more than a few minutes ago. :-P That is all.