Thursday, October 25, 2012


Leave it to our precious son to knock PilotHusband's ego down a notch or two.

Every year for a very long time, I have dressed up like a medieval wench and worked at the Renaissance Festival when it comes to town.  It is a great source of extra income, leading up to Christmas, and it gives me a chance to hang out with my funky groovy Wiccan friends.  Its like running away and joining a carnival, but all of the "Carnies" have degrees in Elizabethan Literature.  Since birth, our son has watched Mommy dress like a wench, a princess, and a faerie, every weekend in October and November.  Thanks to so well-played slight of hand, he believes I can turn ordinary garden rocks into polished gemstones.  My son is convinced his mother is part Faerie.  We even used my Faerie Magic and sprinkled powerful Faerie Dust around the yard to keep monsters away.

So, for a long time, PilotHusband has had to deal with the fact that he may fly big jets across the frozen North Atlantic, but he's no Faerie.  Mythical woodland magical creatures win over Jet Jockeys every time!  Come on!  Mommy has a friend that's a Centaur, and a friend with a baby dragon.  I hate to quote Charlie Sheen, but... "WINNING".

And now... I have just made things worse for PilotHusband.  In addition to my seasonal duties as a wench/princess/faerie, I started a new job.  During the week, I am now building parade floats used in College Homecoming, Thanksgiving, and Christmas parades in four states.  I showed my son pictures of the floats his Mommy had built and he announced "Coolest job EVER"!  It was then that PilotHusband reminded our 6 year old that he flies big planes to Paris, Madrid, and Rome.  And our precious child responded, "Yeah, but are you part faerie AND work in Santa's workshop making Christmas floats?  No Dad, I don't think so.".  Again, I say... WINNING!

P.S.  PilotHusband burst the button off of his new shorts.  He blamed it on the hard water from our welldegrading the thread.  After a month of laying on the couch, drinking beer and eating the child's chicken nuggets and ice cream (while watching the Military Channel), he is pushing maximum density (if you know what I mean).  I agreed that it must be our hard water that caused his button to fly across the room.  After all, I may be Medieval, but I'm not completely evil :)

Monday, October 15, 2012


PilotHusband has been home for 21 straight days now.  Let that sink in for a moment.... 21 days in a row of watching him lay on the couch, drink beer, and watch the Military Channel.  I did NOT sign up for this.  This marriage works because for the past 17 years, one of us leaves every week!  So besides the obvious tension in the house, another phenomenon has occurred.... we ran out of toilet paper, soap, and shampoo.

Ever since PilotHusband's first overnight as a professional Pilot, we have not had to purchase toilet paper, soap, or shampoo.  At every hotel, each week, PilotHusband took the toilet paper, tiny bars of soap, and little bottles shampoo, home with him.  If the housekeeping cart was left unattended.... he stocked up.  So for 17 years, I have had to enjoy/endure single ply toilet paper, tiny bars of hotel soap, and minuscule bottles of shampoo.

Obviously, after 3 weeks at home, our supplies ran out.  For the first time in 17 years, I had to go to the market and purchase toilet paper.  WOW!  Do you know how many kinds of toilet paper are available?  There's toilet paper with ridges, toilet paper with aloe and vitamin E, toilet paper that is made, entirely, from recycled content.  I was overwhelmed.  Should I buy the squeezably soft kind, the environmentally friendly kind, the moisturized kind.... the possibilities were endless.

After 20 minutes in the toilet paper department, I moved on to soap.  Holy Shamoly!  Have you been in the soap aisle lately?  The bars are HUGE!  There were moisturizing bars, antibacterial bars, anti aging bars, scented bars, unscented bars.... I began to shut down.  Too many choices, after years of deprivation, got the best of me.

Next, I had to endure purchasing shampoo.  WTF?  Do I have oily hair?  Dry hair?  Frizzy hair?  Damaged hair?  Hard to manage  hair?  Itchy scalp hair?  Dandruff?  I don't know!  For 17 years I have washed my hair with whatever came out of the little tiny bottle that came out of PilotHusband's suitcase and found it's way into my shower.

No disrespect to the people of Sweden, but clearly, I have Stockholm Syndrome.  There are too many choices regarding toilet paper, soap, and shampoo.  PilotHusband REALLY has to go back to work.  I can't handle another trip to the market.

Wednesday, October 10, 2012


As a species, Air Line Pilots do not like change.  If you are a real pilot, you do not like words like "spontaneity" or "novelty".  Rather, if you are a real pilot, you embrace words like "homeostasis" and "status quo".  You would think that, given they fly with a different crew each trip and overnight in a different city each day, they would be more flexible.  But no.  Perhaps it is in reaction to the constant change required by their careers, that they are so resistant to change.

Here are just a few examples to prove my point...

Bob doesn't like change.  Not too long ago, I was working on PilotHusband's displacement bids (you didn't expect him to do it himself, did you?).  I reviewed every aircraft in every base for the lowest seniority number holding each position.  That's when I discovered "Captain Bob".  Bob is number 54 out of 12,243 pilots.  Bob could be a very senior line-holding Captain on the whale- the 747.  Bob could hold a very senior Captain's line on ANY aircraft, in ANY base.  But Bob doesn't like change.  Bob probably upgraded to Captain on the DC-9 in 1978... in Memphis.... and he never left.  Eventually, Bob's Air Line closed the Memphis crew base... and Bob kept showing up, in uniform, with his rollerboard, long after the planes were gone.  As I write this, Bob is sitting in the basement of the Memphis airport, smoking cigarettes, and wondering why his release isn't ready yet.  REAL PILOTS DON'T LIKE CHANGE.

Dave doesn't like change.  "Captain Dave" retired in 2010.  As he taxied to the gate for the last time, his got the shower of water from the airport firetrucks.  He got the crappy sheet cake in the crew room.  He got the crappy Retirement Package.  Dave was home for about three weeks when he awoke one morning, put on his uniform, packed his suitcase, kissed his wife, and left for four days.  While she knew he was retired, "Captain Dave's" wife did not question him as she was getting weary of having him at home every day.  Since that first post-retirement "trip", Dave dons his uniform, packs his bag, kisses his wife, and leaves for four days, each and every week.  His wife does not know where "Captain Dave" goes; his wife does not care where "Captain Dave" goes.  Eventually, Dave will run out of HiltonHonors points and have to face reality,but until then, everyone is happily enjoying the status quo.  REAL PILOTS DON'T LIKE CHANGE.

Steve doesn't like change.   "Captain Steve" flew for TWA for 30 years before his airline was bought by American Airlines.  Alas, TWA was fully absorbed by AA and was TWA no more.  But you couldn't convince "Captain Steve" of that.  When his new American Airlines uniform arrived, Steve put in in the back of the closet.  No, he still wore his TWA uniform.  He got away with it for about 6 months before he was summoned to the Chief Pilot's Office.  When Steve made PA announcements to the passengers to welcome them on board he would say "Welcome aboard TWA flight 123 to Dallas.  We've got great flying weather, so sit back, relax, and let our TWA Flight Attendants take care of you.  Once again, thanks for flying TWA".  Of course confusion and panic erupted in the cabin.  Confused infrequent fliers thought they had boarded the wrong flight.  Steve was once again was summoned to the Chief Pilot's Office.  After his (highly encouraged) retirement, there was that unfortunate incident when "Captain Steve" went to a local travel agent to purchase tickets for a family vacation.  He was charged with assault when the agent could not secure him first class tickets on TWA.  The charges were later dropped because everybody knows... REAL PILOTS DON'T LIKE CHANGE.

So before you decide to repaint the living room a new color, redecorate the bedroom, or change your hair color while your PilotHusband is on a trip; beware.  You may upset his delicate sense of balance in the Universe because REAL PILOTS DON'T LIKE CHANGE.

Wednesday, October 3, 2012


Sometimes, when PilotHusband begins to speak, I surrender to the irresistible compulsion to say, in my best Forest Gump voice, "I'm not a smart man, Jen-nie".  Its not that he is an uneducated man.  In fact, he attended one of the top ranked, private, Southern, Liberal Arts Colleges.  He double majored in History and Political Science.  He was named to the Dean's List.  He is well travelled, and well read.  But sometimes when he opens his mouth, I just have to say "WTF?".  Here's some PilotHusband wisdom he has shared with me recently.

"Do you think Neil Armstrong was sober when he landed on the moon?  Hell no!  I can assure you he mixed vodka in his Tang!"
(Ummm... APW is pretty certain Neil Armstrong was completely sober when he took one giant leap for mankind).

"If I'm too lazy to memorize the last line of the eye chart, I don't deserve to have 20/20 vision".
(If you have to memorize the last line of the eye chart, you don't ACTUALLY have 20/20 vision).

"You eat pancakes, or oatmeal, for breakfast.  Beer is no different.  It has wheat, barley, rye, and hops.  Hell!  Its a good source of fiber, if you ask me".
(Wow.  I can't even respond to that one).

"I'm not interrupting you.  I know you so well, I can finish your sentences for you; so there is no need for you to speak further".
(Yeah... about that.... ahhhh... NO!  You have no idea what I am trying to say.  That's why I have to repeat myself 14 times before you actually can process what I am trying to tell you).

PilotHusband will be home for at least another 18 days.  I'm sure he'll have more pearls of wisdom to share.

****** PilotHusband got home from his last trip on September 24th.  He is not scheduled back on duty until October 22nd.  Do the math!  I'm not sure what the rules are regarding betting pools on the Internet.  But if anyone wants to chime in on the comment board, or my email (you can link to it under my profile page) and wager a guess as to when AngryPilotWife finally snaps, please do so.  Whoever comes closest to the exact day and time that I totally loose it, will receive an APW refrigerator magnet.

(For those of you with an upcoming Medical.... the last line of the eye chart is V K Z C R)
You're welcome.