Tuesday, September 3, 2013


The photo gives you a rough idea of what this week feels like. To me.

While I returned from California on Sunday last, the Missus Herself did not. She remained behind to assist the WSO's family in their transition from their rented house to the semi-permanent OhMyGodWe'reInDebtForever house. Yes, the junior branch of the wide spread OAFS empire has purchased a domicile in the sunny environs of the San Joaquin valley. Why would they do that, you ask?

Well, it's that whole why rent when you can buy thing. I mean I think it's hard-wired into every red-blooded American that at some point in time you buy a house to live in. The money you pay every month now goes (theoretically) towards the eventual goal of receiving the title to a piece of property. Rather than the money going into some landlord's pocket. Whether that landlord be an individual or some corporation.

It's the old, "Dammit, if I want to paint the walls yellow with purple polka dots, I can. Because it's MY HOUSE!" situation. Well sure. I get that.

However, it's also the old, "Ah crap the toilet is spewing filth everywhere! Quick call the... Oh wait, that's right. I don't have a landlord! I have to fix this myself!" situation.

But really I'm digressing, as I so often do. It's not the kids buying a house which is the point of this post, it's that the Missus Herself stayed behind in Cali to help out.

(I understand that the denizens of California don't like it when people say "Cali", instead of "California" or "Frisco" for "San Francisco". So my apologies for doing so. Not that my apology is sincere. It's sort of a pro forma... Oh wait, I'm digressing again, aren't I?)

So once again, the wife and I went to visit the WSO and her tribe and only I returned to little Rhody. (By the way, you can call Rhode Island anything you like, I won't mind. Of course, I'm not a native of this state. And my actual native state, Vermont, has become so socialist since I left there that the state I grew up in doesn't really exist anymore. So have at it. Make fun of where I live to your heart's content. Do your worst. I shan't be offended. I may even chuckle some at the more artistic and/or crude insults.)

Damnit. Digressed again. I need some sort of automatic topic maintainer standing next to me. Perhaps with a cattle prod to keep me on track.

Um, no. But thanks!

So, to recap. I'm in Rhody, the wife is in Cali.

I'm back at work, the wife is helping select furniture (and my sources tell me she's paying for some of it [picture my alarmed face here]) and painting the interior walls of the new house.

Yes, painting the walls of the brand new, just built house. Yes, they did paint the interior walls as part of the finishing process. They are (were?) a very serviceable shade of white. Now as a guy I only recognize the color white. And yes, I understand there are varying shades of what a man would call white. Just like I don't know the 3 billion different words the Eskimos (or Inuit, if you prefer) have for snow, I don't know all of those shades. I do know that the females of my species have highly refined detectors of color tints that I lack.

I'm pretty sure that it's not the Y-Chromosome which prevents males from detecting color shades other than your standard red, blue, green, yellow, white and black. (Yes, I know that technically white and black are not colors. But if you drive a black Mercedes and someone asks you what color your car is, you're not going to say, "My car is the absence of all light color." Or words to that effect.) I happen to know that there are males who have a great appreciation for each and every nuance of color that exists. Whether those colors exist in nature or in Home Depot, they can spot fuscia ten out of ten times. And furthermore, [Jumping Jesuits, would you please get back on topic?]

Um yeah, sure, okay. (Sorry about the Jesuit crack. I think I'm safe, the WSO went to Holy Cross, a Jesuit school. Hhmm, maybe she's safe, but I'm not. Oh well, yes, yes, I know, off topic. Geez!)

Yes, the walls of the new house were painted some derivative of white. But the WSO, though she is very much like me, is still female. The females of the species like to put their own mark on newly acquired property/possessions. So from what I understand, the downstairs area, with the exception of the kitchen, is being painted light gray (perhaps the actual shade is haze-gray-as-seen-from-off-the-coast-of-Maui-at-ten-in-the-morning-on-a-spring-day, or something of that nature.)

And Little Bit's room is being painted a "light lavender". At any rate that's what the Missus Herself called it when she conveyed that information to me. Over the phone. I'm guessing that "light lavender" is some variant of purple which guys recognize as a color primarily (I think) because it's worn by the Minnesota Vikings. Maybe the Baltimore Ravens wear purple too. But to me it seems that the Ravens are actually wearing some shade of "darkish-blue". But not Navy Blue, which to me is black. But a different black than our "absence of all light"-painted Mercedes described above.

So I'm flying solo this week and a piece of next week as well. Seems the wife has to babysit Little Bit next weekend as the WSO and Big Time will be attending Tail Hook in Reno. (Along with her furniture selecting and painting duties.)


I said Tail Hook.

Yes, that Tail Hook. Which used to be held in Las Vegas. But is now held in Reno. (Perhaps because the hotels in Vegas would like what happens in Vegas to stay in Reno, this year at any rate.)

When I told my "Up North" boss of this, he looked at me as though I'd said something along the lines of "The kids will be pillaging small villages in the Ukraine that weekend."

And I think we all know that something like that has never happened at Tail Hook. Ever. (Small villages in Nevada, I wouldn't know, the Ukraine? Never alleged, never proven. Just sayin'...)

So. This week is going to be interesting. My cats are concerned. But as long as I continue to feed them, they won't complain.



  1. "I understand that the denizens of California don't like it when people say "Cali", instead of "California" or "Frisco" for "San Francisco"."

    The short version is Cali is in a certain So. American country noted for importing cocaine...
    Longer version is it lumps all Californians together in the same pot.
    SoCal & NorCal are okay (except is leaves the ones in the middle noplace)

    As for the other... Frisco is in Texas.

    "The females of the species like to put their own mark on newly acquired property/possessions."

    Sometimes they get it into their heads they want wallpaper.

    1. BTW - it's really only native San Franciscans (like yours truly) who get very upset with "Frisco."

    2. Wallpaper!

      Don't say that out loud, the WSO reads this stuff. Yes, even the comments.

      Oh my word, what have you done?

    3. One more thing, at our brief stop in San Francisco, I had an excellent time with two (I presume) native San Franciscans who sold me coffee and a sandwich. They also laughed at my lame jokes.


    4. "Frisco is in Texas". You say that like it's a bad thing!

  2. LOL. I've got a photo somewhere like that of an F-4D from my squadron with the backseat canopy gone and nothing but the rail extended above the fuselage when the backseater ejected. We were down in Tripoli from the UK at Wheelus AB in '69 (prior to the overthrow of old King Idris) for Bomb & Gun practice and the boys were doing some "unofficial" ACT/ACM (dogfighting for the uninitiated) on the way back from the range when one jock got himself into a "departure from normal flight" situation and his backseater (oh yea of little faith!) didn't think he was going to recover in time, so punched out. But he did, and proceeded home much the same as the guy above. Needless to say those two never crewed together again! LOL.

    1. VX, I've still got that bold face memorized. Comes in handy sometimes, especially if Barbancourt is involved. Just sayin'

    2. Does it look bad on your OPR to come home with no WSO? I mean don't you have to sign for them or something?

    3. So juvat, how could one ever forget the bold face? Especially if one has had occasion to use that knowledge!

  3. Ah... the ol' "rent vs. buy" thing. I have a small bit o' experience in this space, what with having "owned" (a euphemism for "renting from the bank") four houses, not counting the one I bought but never lived in (long story, that, and I could give ya a link but I'm too lazy to search it out). I've received a LOT of grief/mild criticism from the adult offspring about not buying... once when I moved to SFO in 2000 and resolutely held my ground, thus avoiding the dot-bomb housing bubble crash... and most recently when I gave up the nomadic life-style and acquired a permanent address. There comes a time in life when you DON'T wanna f$!k with the hassles of owning (like that toilet you were on about) and maintaining (yard work! Aiiieee!) a domicile. It's MUCH easier to pick up the phone and call the landlord when something goes south, as opposed to making three... or more... trips to Home Depot for widgets and risking life and limb (or small amounts o' blood and tissue) to install said widgets in a process which you have NO idea about how it actually works.

    My... how I DO go on. But ya get the point, I'm sure.

    Other than that? ALL of yer points are very well-taken.

    Well, there's that solo thing... I dunno what to say. I'm QUITE comfortable doin' that, but that's just me. ;-)

    1. It's quite obvious you've done the homeowner thing.

      And lived to tell the story.

      I'm just not used to flying sans backseater.

  4. You're a brave man talking about women and colors and paint et al...while your wife is 3000 or so miles away...I guess you realize that when your wife returns home the paint thing may come with her and you'll be discussing the options of 'Buttered Popcorn' (one of white shades) and 'Pennywise' (brownish..sort of) . Guess why I know these colors, uh huh.

    1. I talk big when the boss, er, the Missus isn't around.

      Do they also have a color "Pound-Foolish"?

      I don't have to guess, been there, tried to forget. It's hard.


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