It is a black and white kind of day. Snow fell in the night, muffling the street noise, not that there is much street noise to muffle at the lake. We attended our last official party of the Christmas season, a pilot who is also an undertaker. His friends talk about him "doing" them when they pass on and wonder who's going to "do" him at his time. Cheery conversation at the party.
We talk about accidents, fatalities, student pilots, the FAA guys, and airplanes, of course. We rarely talk about air traffic controllers; sorry, guys. The wives walk around the undertaker's house and talk quilts, school activities, fabric, grandchildren, the pool house. I am both a pilot and a wife, so I can join in with either group, and do. I also sit at the bar without talking and drink vodka on the rocks with olives. The olives are stuffed with a garlic clove that I pick out. Who would do that to a perfectly good olive?
Today the wood is gathered for the woodstove and for warding off the forecasted cold Canadian air. Frigid is the word used. The Banderante is late for its UPS delivery, but there is freezing rain and snow falling. It just passed overhead, following the ILS to Lewiston, runway 04. It will get where it needs to go, just as we all will today and tomorrow and the day after that. Christmas!
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