Hanging On Gliding

Cool, I've got a link to Red Bull on the bottom of my blog! I love that stuff for it's kick-ass attitude and the fact that, of all the energy drinks, it's the least sweet and really does give me a little boost. My brother, the bull-rider, swears by it for the long hauls between rodeos, and I use it for distance driving and as a late night pick me up in the ED.

But, I really started out to talk about ' hanging on gliding,' when you are just glad to still have the basetube in your hands. It was blowing 15-20 all day, with gusts to 25-30, and I knew it was strong, but I have been so air-horny that it was like being a fresh HangvIII all over again. I waited around all day (instead of doing something useful like housework) and left the Man to lawncare, set up at 5pm anticipating the usual evening glass-off. It never materialized, at least not until after official sunset, when all good hanggliders, who don't want the FAA breathing down their necks, must be safely stowed on the ground. So, at 1715 I decided that I had flown in this shit before and I oculd handle it.

Yes, I had, and, yes, I could, but I couldn't make myself look graceful and I lured very few other pilots off the ramp after the rock 'n roll ride I had a few seconds after launch. Had a great 1 and 1/2 hour flight, but the gusts persisted and the thermals (still there when I came down to land at 1845) were over 800fpm up right off launch. Youch, got to test whether my shoulders are still up to that kind of stress.
P.S. The photo above is, actually, me in Austria.

Divorce Explanations

1) It was all my fault for being unfaithful. I'm a slut. (his)
2) It was his fault for deserting me after he had promised to help me raise my nephew. (not really my explanation, but it starts out this way some days. I try not to use this in front of people; it's too self-serving.)
3) We were tearing each other apart and two good people don't need to do that. (for public consumption)
4) He was destroying me by making me choose between me and 'the kid' as he labelled my nephew. But he knew about my commitment to family and that I had promised R a place to stay as long as he attended school, didn't break any major rules, and passed his classes. He didn't realize that when he said, "him or me," It meant him or my promises, my integrity, my vision of myself. (this is the one I claim most often in my silent arguments with him.)
5) We both got bored. (probably some truth here.)
6) Neither of us was good at discussing or even recognizing and naming our feelings, let alone discussing how two such misfits and independent people ever found anyone to marry them -- a couple of lone eagles better in a thermal than in a nest. (Getting closer to the heart of the problem)
7) Neither of us was willing to give up ourselves or self-image, even for the love of each other. And we did love each other. (Truth)
8) Selfishness. (oh, yes.)

Air-horny

I am air-horny. That 9 days in FL has made me hungry for more. Trouble is, the weather's just not cooperating. We're still in the throws of the vernal equinox which means the winds are too strong or (like yesterday) rotating through so rapidly that after a storm front, that the wind direction (crucial in mountain launch area, not so important in the flatlands) switches from SW to NE in a matter of half a day.
It is enchantingly green up here (we are still mid-spring in this part of GA, being on the mountain), from the bright spring greens of my oaks, to the deeper greens of my pines (those that have survived the pine-beetle thus far.) I feel enveloped in the color which I find soothing, but I want, oh-so-much, to be soaring over it, hanging above it. Being air horny is like just being horny -- you feel slightly on edge and wanting, wanting, something, to happen. But hang-waiting is a skill (I keep reminding myself, though self thinks this is nonsense) that I had to develope as a mountian pilot long ago. Provided I keep on living, there will be other days. It's just I want it now!

Flying in Florida

Somehow, flying and BDSM don't mix in my head. One is in the sun and fresh air and, while physical, and sometimes sexual, it is more of a solitary sport, unless you just love chit-chat on the radio. (I don't.)
The comps last week were held in near-perfect weather. Except for the first two days when the winds were too strong, we had 6 days of valid flying. Saturday, the 23rd, we were closed down by rain and the death of a competitor. Chris Muller, a young Canadian aerobatics pilot was going for an object on the ground at finish (a 'goodies' bag put here as a challenge to those pilots who cared to skim that low) and dove right into the dirt at 60 mph. Made it to the hospital by helicopter, but didn't survive.
To someone outside the sport, it might seem stupid. It was, but, my feeling is we all make choices. Chris was an aerobatics pilot, loved taking those risks. I don't agree with his choices, but people think I'm crazy just flying hanggliders (never mind that I consider myself a conservative pilot.) So, I can't condemn him, just hate the waste of talent and a lifetime of flying. He made a mistake which cost him everything worthwhile in this world. But, his choices were what shaped his personality. If he didn't make those choices he wouldn't have been Chris Muller. I don't think that is a circular argument. I am more frightened of driving I-75 going into ATL at dusk, than I am of hanggliding. I've been sidewiped by a semi before, but I've never had anyone hit me in the air. We all take calculated risks, and we'd better be aware of the costs when we lose our gamble. Most people don't expect to die driving to the grocery store, but I'm always very aware of the chance of really hurting myself when I fly.
Aside from that, which didn't happen until the last day of the meet, I had some great flying days. Drove to Wallaby Ranch each day since Quest was so busy (0ver 100 pilots competing). Malcolm and staff did a wonderful job making me feel comfortable back on tow. The first day I went up tandem with Malcolm to see if I stil recalled my skills. He basically let me fly it from start to finish, then told me to stop wasting his time and go tow. Did three more that morning on their loaner Falcon, had great tows, watched hot-air balloons come into his field and land, then packed it up since my arms were tired. Next day I was back under tow on my own 142XC and had three good ones, saving the fourth tow until the afternoon so that I cold judge how i was doing in thermally air. Got up and soared for 35 minutes, felt happy with that and packed up for home ( Questairforce.com )
I stopped on the way when I noticed a cross-country pilot thermalling low about 6 miles from Wallaby. It was a bit out of the way for the comp pilots unless one of them had gotten lost, so I pulled over to watch. S/he didn't seem to be making much up, and, eventually, he landed by some cows. I waved and he came over to the gate where he took down his glider and we packed it on the truck before transporting him back to Wallaby. Turned out to be a visiting pilot from CO, in for a conference who had stolen off from Orlando for a day. We flew together the next day, too, after I had another midday flight that only lasted 40 min (the clouds cut off the thermals about 2p.) Craig and I, after lunch and a breather, towed back up at 1630 and managed to punch through the inversion layer (4500MSL) to 5600MSL for a lovely late afternoon flight with dozens of other pilots up toodling about.
Coming in on the last flight, the sunlight was golden through the inversion layer, scattered, and the thermals were light, the 100fpm stuff I prefer over the midday of >800fpm, the kind where you don't even hold onto the bar, just rest your foreams on the control frame and lazily loop in lift, watching all around you bathed in gold. Below me, over a swamp, a flock of ibises took off, something from an African movie, white against the dark green, far below me. Peaceful, and feeling like dessert to me.
Today it's raining in Georgia and I have to work tomorrow, but it might mellow in the evening Wednesday, and Thursday is looking good (I happen to be off then.) Flying is back on my agenda.
The results of the nationals and the pictures by the meet organizer can be seen at: http://www.flytec.com/flytec_usn_05/scores.html

Wallaby Ranch and Flying

Off to Wallaby Ranch, near Orlando, next Friday, for towing and flying and camping out and partying. There's a national competition being held at QuestAir, about 30 minutes from Wallaby (both towing hanggliding sites) and I'm going to drive for a friend who's competing for a spot on the Women's World Team. I don't want to compete, just refresh my towing skills and plan for nothing more than enjoying the sport in the sun. Anymore, life gets in the way of my hanggliding. www.wallaby.com

Pre-Fantasm Soaring

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Gardening and BDSM

What do they have in common? Not much you say (and I agree.) Just wanted to talk about both and it seemed an eye-grabber.

Am looking forward to Fantasm in Atlanta next week and have been busy making plans and sewing a new gown to wear with my purple vinyl corset (my favorite). I used to sew costumes for theatre, though my skills are rusty. Since becoming more openly fetishy, I've started trying to create the very clothes in which I most want to see myself, and they're not all in the Stormy Leather catalog. Some of the personas in my head are more male than female or ambiguous. My love is fine with his boy-girl, calls me "Orlando Bloom with tits," and teases me about "forced feminization of a female."

The garden is budding and the daffodils aren't deterred by our weather forecasts (it was snowing on the mountain as I drove to work this evening.) I go out every afternoon to pick up the mail and check to see the need sprouts on my pruned roses and fruit trees and impatiently await the passing of this string of fronts to plant my strawberries and my grown-from-seed tomatoes. My herbs are also sprouting and I've got a slew (or is that slough) of evergreens to plant to act as a screen from the disapproving eyes of my ex-husband. Two in the ground and ten more to go -- hope they grow as quickly as advertised. ;)

Fantasm in Atlanta

All you perverts need to migrate to Atlanta the weekend of 17th of March. The last OFFICIAL Fantasm (a sexually oriented sci-fi convention -- bring no children!) ist be held that weekend. It is a four day event of unbridled fetishism and fun. The room parties last year were eye-popping ("oral sex room") and wehope to send off the name with a flourish. They have classes on BDSM techniques (needle zippers, anyone?) and a playroom with suspended rope bondage (yes!)

Other than a participant, I am in no way connected with this endeavor financially, but when you have people chocolate pudding wrestling in the open airway and pony-girls prancing through the lobby while Wiccans gather at a fountain nearby to sanctify the place, and then the drumming group starts up and the Celts in kilts gather to stomp, you know it's gonna be a fun night!

Find more at www.Fantasm.org

Influenza and the Emergency Department

Warning, highly individual opinion to follow (typed in at 0400 in the morning after three weeks of this!)

DON'T GO TO THE ER!

Okay, maybe I'm just joking, but only a little. Unless you are truly dying (and not just thinking you are) do not go to the ED (Emergency Department.) Number one, we can't get to you; number two, if you don't have the flu, you will after sitting there for hours waiting to be seen, surrounded by sufferers of the flu. Even face masks provide scant protection in the crowded waiting room.

In the area where I work (seven hospitals around here) most of the ED's are in gridlock. We can't move patients to the floors because they are full or have reduced staffing due to the nationwide nursing shortage; since we can't free up the beds in the ED, we are reduced to seeing a handful of patients at a time on the hall stretchers, in between the usual number of codes (dying or dead people) and car accidents and nursing home transfers, etc. This overloads the already overworked nurses (no, I'm not a nurse) who are dealing with inpatients that shouldn't be there, as well as the acutely ill. I know you feel like a walking corpse -- I've had influenza before myself -- but, unless you have some serious complication or underlying condition, you'll survive. Save yourself hours (around here 8-10 hour waits are routine these last few weeks) of misery and exposure to other contagions and stay home.

Call your boss, tell him the situation. Sending employees to the ED regularly to get work excuses during a flu season is cruel, unnecessary, and expensive (adding to the company cost of healthcare, remind her.) Going to work sick is not loyal, it's stupid. You'll make everyone else ill and the company will lose still more work time. Stay home, drink those fluids, dose yourself with ibuprofen or acetaminophen (if the fever returns before it's time for more acetaminophen, alternate between the two -- ibuprofen's better for the achiness anyway), get some soup into you, wash your hands religiously, and avoid contaminating the other members of your family or tribe. Nyquil really does help (just remember it has acetaminophen in it.) If you have a family doctor, they may be able to call something in for you.

If you develope more serious symtoms -- a cough with yellow or green phlegm production, chest pain, severe shortness of breath, or vomiting and unable to keep down fluids, certainly you may need to brave the crowds. But, bring a novel.

Snowboarding West Virginia

Just back from a snowboarding trip (finally -- was afraid I'd lose the knack) at Snowshoe Mtn, WV. There had just been a big blizzard when we arrived on Sunday the 23 January with wind blowing forty and the temperature about 0 F. It stayed cold the next day, too cold for two exhausted and middle-aged people who hadn't rested well the night before. It wasn't the accomodations (Highland House was great) but rather a combination of my coming off night shifts, the long drive, the bone-aching cold (hey, even kinky people get arthitis) and the fact that the snow plows started moving the accumulated snow about, oh, 0400! We were in one of the primo lodges and couldn't sleep late on any of our vacation due to the overzealous snowplowing.

But, we had a great time on the second day when we actually got out in that snow -- light and fluffy and powdery and soft. He took off on the skis like he'd been skiing all his life instead of last seeing slopes (if they can be called that in OH) back in the early 80's. I was stiff and scared for the first 60 minutes back on the board, then finally stopped trying to "think" my way down the hill and just started letting myself feel it -- letting go. This loss of control has always been my key to enjoying any physical experience. First I fight it, trying to intellectualize the experience, sort it, catalog it, monitor it, but to truly enjoy hanggliding, surfing, skiing, snowboarding, sex, I have had to learn to let go and just ride the sensation. Turn off my left brain.

Letting go is more difficult than many "natural" athletes realize. Those of us engineering types spend all of our life in our left brains, naming and identifying and cataloging, but only rarely allowing the non-verbal side of our brains to take over and just feel. We keep tripping up our feet by thinking too much about the dance steps.

So, after floundering about and getting frustrated with my physical self, I decided to turn off the brain. Worked wonderfully and my lover was even impressed with my grace on the board. As he pointed out, most of the really flying boarders were half my age and male, with a handful of female boarders mixed in (mind you we were only on the green and blue slopes) but none of them were anywhere near my age. It made me feel less judgemental of myself to hear that and to relax and just laugh the few times I plowed down a slope. Laughing reminds me that this is all just a game and the only one I'm really competing with is myself. No one lives or dies (except maybe me) based on my ability or inability to board with the big boys. It's purely recreation, a change from my usual job.