Writes about the funeral of his father, a WW II vet (among many other things). He was three years younger than mine, who has been gone now for forty years.
For those wondering why posting has been light, I woke up with a summer head cold on Monday. I spent a lot of yesterday taking it easy and napping, but last night I slept pretty well, and I’m mostly dried up today.
OK, this post reminds me of a conversation I had Friday night on the flight I managed to escape to (not “from,” despite the movie) LA last night.
I’d gotten the ticket with miles, because the last-minute prices to DC were nuts, the only way to do so was to (a) go out of IAD instead of DCA and (b) fly into SNA (John Wayne Airport in Orange County) instead of LAX. Thursday, I asked American if I could change it by going same-day standby, and they said, sure, if you want to burn more miles. So I was resigned to going to Dulles, and flying into Orange County, and Patricia picking me up there, with at least a 45-minute drive each way.
Fortunately, God (or whoever controls the weather) intervened, and my flight from IAD was delayed sufficiently that I missed my connection to SNA, and managed to get reassigned to a flight that went to LAX, with no penalty.
So I’m in an exit row on the flight, and the flight attendant comes by with the usual FAA-required question: “Are you willing and able to assist in opening the door in the case of an emergency?”
I’d been asked this question before in similar situations, but this time, I realized that I couldn’t say “yes” with any honesty. Because I had never actually opened an emergency door. Sure, I’d read the instructions, but had I ever done it? No.
So I said to the flight attendant (because I can occasionally be a pain in the ass from my pedantry, and it had been a long day), “Well, sure, I’m willing, but how can I know that I’m ‘able’? I’ve never done it before.”
There was an American captain sitting next to me, dead heading, and I said, “I’d bet no one in this row, except him, has ever opened an emergency door in an aircraft, so when you ask us if we’re able, there’s no way for us to know.”
The flight attendant is now flustered, and asks if I want to be moved.
“No, I’m sort of kidding, but it’s not a useful question, despite the FAA rules. What you should be asking is if I’m willing and have sufficient strength. I am and do. But none of us know if we are able, and we all hope that we don’t have to find out.”
Posting is light because we’re doing things around the house this weekend. We just replaced the bedroom door (to the outside), and I’m replacing the threshold as well. The thing has an aluminum channel into which a rubber seal fits, after mounting it with screws. But you can’t put the screws in with the seal in place, and once it’s mounted, you can’t slide the seal into the channel (as the instructions say) because the ends are butted up against the door frame. All I can think to do is to shorten it so I have some clearance for inserting the seal, but then the ends won’t have channel, just seal.
[Update a while later]
OK, I figured it out. If I pinch the bottom flat part and bend it upward, I can squeeze the sides into the flange. I still don’t understand why the instructions say to “slide” it in, though.
OK, saw Endgame yesterday. Question to people much more into MCU than me. In the final battle, there’s a very angry woman who comes at Thanos with two fiery swords. It looked like Natasha to me, but I suspect not, because, you know? If not, who was it?
[Update a few minutes later]
Never mind, someone on Twitter told me it was Wanda (the Scarlet Witch, a character with which I was unfamiliar, or had forgotten from Infinity War).
[Update a while later]
Question in comments: Sure, it’s been out long enough to have a spoiler discussion there. Have at it. No one has to read comments except me.Continue reading Endgame Question
A rhino poacher was stomped to death by an elephant and was eaten by lions.
An aircraft, not a bird. The state is so gorgeously green right now.
The man behind the hyperwoke Twitter account comes out. I’d always assumed it was the same person that ran Godfrey Elfwick, but apparently not.
Remember the sister kittens we adopted just before Christmas?
Well, we took them in for their third vaccination yesterday, and (SURPRISE), it turns out that Ember (the one on the right) is not a sister, but a brother. The other couple who adopted the other two of the litter discovered that they had one of each, which meant that we did as well, and upon inspection, yup, things are sprouting down there that were less obvious when they were six weeks old.
So we’ve been misgendering him for several weeks; hopefully it won’t give him a life-long complex.
We’ve decided not to rename him; it’s not clear that combustion byproducts of wood have a gender (though they probably do in German), but now we’ve got to get used to saying “him” instead of “her,” and “he” instead of “she.” Fortunately it’s not a long-held habit. We’re looking at him with new eyes now. It’s funny, because he’s the smallest (he was probably the runt), but he’s fearless, and loves to attack his big sister.
The fires and rain may give us one in southern CA in a few weeks.