Boat Update: Mr. Wookie is a flying mad man.

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I sincerely hope this was a Senior Pilot since I don't exactly trust just anyone with a heavy crosswind. There's a boy in the back that I'd like to come back in one piece. While I'm the Keeper of his Shit should he kick the bucket this year (seriously - that'd be the worse year ever), I'm not ready to cremate him, fly to Scotland, go Scotch tasting on his behalf, then throw his ass off a cliff while reading a poem on Nordic baddassery.


But he's "adding traps" like it's going out of business. And his stateroom is shaping up thanks to wall-to-wall carpeting, a 2" fiberbed on his rack, and a plethora of videogame systems to keep the boys busy when they're not flying. Glad to hear he's settling in since we're still in June of this adventure.


Aviators definitely don't treat boat time like the prison sentence it really is...instead they bring in all the luxuries of home. Okay, okay, liquor is not allowed, but the rest of the legal luxuries are fair game. Some bring 1,500 thread count sheets and some bring pictures of the families. I send lengthy emails about life back home, my ever-growing collection of wine corks, and how I recently dropped money on Stouffer's lasagna, and other easy dinner ideas that way I don't starve since we've barely chipped into this detachment.


And as much as I want to hurry through this month and the next, and next, I'm enjoying the lack of making the bed, peeing with the door closed, and doing dishes every night. Plus, there's plenty of bonding to do with my fellow left-behind ladies. We've gone to the beach and out for drinks - the next thing on my agenda is convincing everyone to join me in trapeze school. :)