A Christmas week with family ends

So my mom, my sister and my nephew, The Spud, were all here for most of the past week. And as luck would have it, I was sick and my leg as messed up. Still, we managed to get some things done.

Wednesday I got them out into the swamp on an airboat.

We were out for about three hours. And Spud got to be helpful by picking up some trash.

Hard to believe that he's going to be 18 in a month.

It was a sunny 75 degrees and we saw nutria a-plenty and even a few gators were out--rare for December.

Thursday we did the World War Two museum and Friday it was a river cruise on the Steamboat Natchez.
Here's a well-known performance artist (sigh) getting hold of my mom and teaching her how to be a mannequin. I only allowed this because I know who he is and I can find him again easily enough if I have to...but I kept a close eye on him all the same. And my mom had a ball.

Last night--Christmas Eve--was a trip down to Lutcher and Gramercy for the Christmas Eve lighting of the bonfires. Here every year, they build and light off bonfires on the levee all along the river for miles, tradition says to light the way for Papa Noel and his sleigh.

They touch them all off at once, with much celebration and not a few fireworks, and it's a spectacular sight that, alas, my camera really couldn't get. This year there were 138 permitted bonfires on that levee and it was a beautiful sight indeed.

Then I took them out for something Spud hadn't had before--raw oysters. He said that he liked them, but he only ate three. Maybe he'll mature into them.

This morning, we had a final breakfast then I drove them around parts of New Orleans for a bit, from the Bywater to the lower Ninth Ward to the Lakefront, before dropping them off at the airport.

Murphy and Belle are going to miss their Great Grandma.

Here they are panhandling as she tries to open some dog treats that she brought them. As you can see, she has their undivided attention.

Murphy got a ball for Christmas, among other swag.

Bells just wants attention from my sister, who is always glad for someone new to talk to.

Now they're gone, and it was a pretty good Christmas. I hope that each and every one of you had a great Christmas as well.

Snow, and Memories.

Snow.

We got 2-3 inches yesterday by the time it stopped. Not much at all, especially compared to the Michigan snowfalls that I remember from my youth. But it was enough to coat the mountain here with white, and keep the trash trucks and fed-ex from coming up here. Wusses.

I remember growing up, how even an inch would have my dad out there with a snow shovel, clearing the whole driveway and the sidewalk. It didn't matter if the sun was going to come out the next day and the temps would be in the 40's, that driveway was going to get cleaned off today and so was the public sidewalk in front of our house and our own walk leading up to the front door. That was just part and parcel to being a homeowner and no one was going to have to trudge through snow in front of our house, not even if the only person out walking was the mailman. Yeah, they used to go out in the snow, too, back in the day.

Well that notion of his stuck with me over the years, and to this day, I can't look at an unshoveled driveway without reaching for the nearest snow shovel, even if it's a steeply inclined drive like mine and no one is expected to come over.

This one's for you, pop.

Happy Birthday, Pop. Couldn't find a picture of you with a snow shovel, but we sure had fun with the Uzi that summer day back on '07, didn't we?

My Dad. January 7, 1942 to October 2, 2012. Still missed.

Early Christmas And Home...

Well it was a short Christmas trip, and since I was (and still am) sick, I did very little of what I'd planned to do and saw precious few of the people I'd planned to visit. But I did see the family and we had some nice time together and exchanged a few gifts, and the dogs got to act all nice for their Grandma so now she doesn't believe all the posts here about what fools they act.

"Don't listen, Santa...we gud dogz!"

Of course Murphy being Murphy, he did lift two roast beef sandwiches off of the kitchen table right in front of everybody just seconds after I chased Belle away from them. And when I pinned him to the floor to correct him and recover at least one of the sandwiches, Belle shot in like lightning and nabbed the stray sandwich. I was mad at her, but kinda proud, too. Pretty slick, Belle.

But the dogs had a pretty good Christmas, scoring a couple of toys each even after the Milk Bone incident.

They played until they were all played out, and then they napped together in the sunbeam.

Later, Belle "helped" by appointing herself Safety Officer of the kitchen and keeping a close eye on the food and the people cooking dinner...and the food.

And speaking of gifts, I found the perfect scented candle for my sister.

Everyone should have a thoughtful brother like me.

It was 8 hours of driving each way for four days in between, but it was worth every minute of that sixteen hours in a closed car with the mutts for that time, even if I didn't get out and actually do anything.

Now it's back to business as usual, starting with work tomorrow morning. I wish you all a happy Christmas morning with your families, and I ask that you all take a minute to remember that there are many thousands of people working or serving in our military on Christmas day.

Emergency Flight

I was at work yesterday when I got the call. "Come home. Now. He's really bad."

I've not mentioned it here before, but my father has cancer. It's one of the reasons I've been back to Michigan so much recently. It's actually why I bought the airplane--so that I could get back more, and quicker if need be.

It took me five minutes to tell work that I was leaving and wrap up what I was working on. Then it was a fast drive home to grab a bag and pick up Murphy, with a call to the airport FBO to fuel my plane and have it ready for immediate departure.

I'd been watching the weather for days, contemplating a trip up here this week-end anyway. But the weather was looking marginal at best, and my father'd sounded so good when we talked on the phone on Thursday. He was up and moving around and we'd discussed going out to do something when I got there. I'd already decided to postpone my trip until the following week-end because the weather was looking dodgy, but then I got the call and I knew that it wasn't being made lightly.

The flight was somewthing else, to be sure. I won't go into detail but I broke just about every rule of VFR operation in my haste to get home in time. My ride was waiting for me at the airport on the other end and just a few minutes after landing, I was on my way to my father's place.When I got here, I saw that he'd been moved to a hospital bed in the living room by the hospice staff, not a good sign, because you just knew that it was meant to be temporary. I couldn't believe that he'd gotten so bad so quickly since my last visit up here just a few weeks ago. But he was awake, and he recognized me and smiled as he said my name. That alone made the whole stupid, risky trip worth it. He knew I was here for him.

Now just a few hours later, he doesn't recognize me or anyone else. He alternates between a drug-induced rest and periods of agitation where he just wants to get out of bed. He doesn't appear to recognize me any more. But he did when I got here and I have to think that deep down, he still knows I'm here.

Posting's going to be sparse for a while as I deal with this. And your prayers will be appreciated.

Cancer's a motherfucker.

The Big Event--Thunder Over Michigan

Murphy and I were back in Michigan so that I could take my nephew, The Spud, and my father to Thunder Over Michigan 2012, an air show at Willow Run Airport. As an added bonus, my uncle--my father's brother--was able to come along, too. It was a family affair and a "Man Day" at the same time. And this air show was particularly manly in that everything that flew in it or was available for ground viewing was a Warbird, including twenty P-51 Mustangs, 11 of which were in the air at one time during part of the show. Also featured: Stearmans, Texans, P-47s, a P-38, a Corsair, B-25s, a B-17...and Fifi, the last flying B-29 left in the world.

Here's Fifi, just inside the gate. Forefront are my father (in the tan to the right) and his brother Tom (blue shirt, carrying the walker, to the left.) Spud is, as usual, bringing up the rear behind me.

The show also had an F-86, a Sea Harrier "jump-jet", military helicopters, and a land battle between American GIs and German soldiers fought just yards away from the spectators, complete with tanks and half-tracks on both sides. Personally, I was in aviation overload the whole day and I won't be able to do it all justice here...but I'll try. Just expect lots of plane and tank pics and other assorted manly macho gear over the next few days. Now I understand that that won't appeal to everyone because some people actually aren't into fighting aircraft and ground combat. So if that's not your thing, you might want to just click here for a while. Never let it be said that I don't respect the feelings of liberals on this site.

Murphy's Christmas Pie

T'was the day before Christmas, and all through my car, my cell phone was ringing, I hadn't gone far.

I got the angry phone call from my dear mother just five minutes after leaving Murphy at my mother's house while I was out shopping.

Five minutes. I wasn't even two miles away yet.

Apparently, despite repeated warnings about Murphy's fondness for counter surfing, my mother left two freshly-baked pies on the kitchen counter and went into the other room, leaving dog and pastries unattended. The pies had been meant for a pre-Christmas dinner with our family and that of Aaron of The Shekel.

(Dinner memorialized on his blog here.)

But once the coast was clear, Murphy chose to sample the lemon meringue pie, no doubt planning to have the chocolate pie for dessert. The first indication my mother had that she'd screwed up was the sound of the pie plate hitting the kitchen floor upside down, spattering what pie that Murphy had not already consummed all over the kitchen. The angry phone call came moments later.

I made it a point to try to stay away until I was sure that the chef had cooled off. However, due to the fact that she had to clean the entire kitchen floor again and then head out to the jam-packed grocery store to get new pie ingredients before setting out to mmake a brand new pie pretty much ensured that she stayed miffed at her "Grand-dog" for quite some time. It also didn't help that everyone that she relayed this story to thought that it was funny.

Of course my mother is not totally without blame here. Murphy is my fourth dog, current standard-bearer of an unbroken line of dogs going well back into the 1980s, and each one of the other dogs has at one time or another grabbed something delicious that was cooling on a counter at her house. In short, this has happened before and she kinda should have been expecting that, especially after I'd specifically warned her several times that he does this. I also just found out this morning that she'd teased him a bit and put some pie filling on his nose while making the pie, so it's not as if he just decided out of the blue to taste-test the pie--she'd already shown him just how good it tasted before leaving him alone in the room with it. But my mom is as trusting as my dogs are untrustworthy with food on counters, so while I did my best to sympathize with her over the loss of the pie, I can't help but snicker when I'm out of sight and reach of her broom.

Merry Christmas, y'all!