Flight of the Humble He

Look ma, no hands!

After three weather aborts, the weather was picture-perfect enough for my 2008 Christmas present (procrastinate? moi?) WWII-era fighter plane ride.
Dad came out to watch the fruit of his depleted bank account, while Ryan and Erin did their best to drive their mother nuts while I danced around the western Virginia sky at about 4500 feet. After a bit of orientation, the pilot even let me climb and bank and do some slow 360-turns, then treated me to a couple barrel rolls.

What a barrel is doing at 4500 feet, I'll never know.

Note the clouds off in the distance...the pilot said they weren't around all that often, so he swooped and swayed the aircraft through them, dancing a slow waltz with the wings. Just heavenly.
After about an hour in the air, we found Erin Firma.

Ainsley took the kids to spend four days at the barn while Dad took me home -- I had a million and four things to do around the house, and I got to ... four. But at least I'm chopping away at the list.