Dear Husband and the flying machine

When I met my Dear Husband, I learned that he had been interested in flying when he was in high school.  He’d been a member of the Civil Air Patrol.  I thought he might earn a pilot’s license when we married, but a 16 foot fiberglass boat caught his attention, and he shifted to sailing.

Unfortunately, I’m a rotten sailor.  I did well on a Holland America ship, on glassy seas, with no storm in sight, but put me on the Seraphina and I puked.  DH sold her and bought a 32-foot boat we named the “Arr!!” (It SHOULD have been the “Arrrgh!!!”)  I still puked.  I really minded that he went off to sail every summer weekend, leaving me on my own, until I realized that I could quilt uninterrupted, and I didn’t have to worry about preparing meals!

We sold our house, and moved to a tiny lot with no room to store the boat in the winter.  The trip to the lakefront was getting to be less and less fun, so this past year we sold the Arr!!   Oddly, I actually miss her.

Then one day, coming back from visiting an apple orchard, DH discovered the soaring field.  We arranged to go for rides in their gliders.  It was glorious!  Dear Husband has enjoyed it so much that he has been pursuing his glider pilot’s license.  He has soloed and passed the written test.  He has enough hours in the air.  Now, he just has to pass the flying and oral test, and he will get his license.

I hope that he will be able to complete this by the end of the flying season this year, but he’s willing to accept that he might need to do it next spring.  He’ll be my magnificent man in a flying machine.  Cool!  Way Cool!