I apologize that you haven’t heard from me in a while. Last week was one of the busiest work weeks I’ve had in a while. (That is saying a lot.) And, what better way to celebrate an exhausting, stressful work week? Why, listening to an FAA regulation manager discuss maintenance record keeping!
Let me explain.
It is no secret that Husband’s first love is flying an airplane (in his case, a little single engine Cessna). For the last few years Husband has been trying to fly more. So he has been making his way through the Virginia Aviation Ambassadors Program by the Virginia Department of Aviation.
The VA Ambassadors Program is designed to encourage pilots to fly to every single airport in the Commonwealth. (Virginia isn’t a state. Technically it’s a commonwealth. But, I digress.). You also have to visit the aviation and transportation museums, too. At each airport and museum, you get your little book – called a passport (cute) – stamped with a special Ambassadors seal. There are more than 60 airports alone to visit, including Dulles International and Reagan National airports.
It’s a brilliant program, actually. It’s a game to incent economic activity, locally. Once completed, you get prizes. The top prize is a leather bomber jacket with your name embroidered on it. Not too shabby. (Husband calls it the world most expensive leather jacket given how much aviation fuel is expended to obtain it. But, hey, look at my shoe collection…)
I hear some people make it a real game and try to visit every airport and museum all in one day, starting at daybreak and ending as soon as it grows too illegal to keep flying. We Husband took a few years. He wanted me to be part of his game, which meant this LBB was going to have to do this in stages. (I’m not crazy.)
Husband completed his passport stamp-collecting last week, making our local airport the last stamp to obtain for symbolic reasons. My stamp-collecting is a tad behind, as we didn’t think about having me do this until about 6 months in. So, I have about six more airports to visit. And, as of Saturday, I had yet to attend the safety seminar.
And, this is where I’d like to now make the giant leap into what this has to do with being a Late Bloomer Bride.
First, I suspect LBBs get, earlier into the marital union, that showing love means expressing it the way the person wants to receive it.
(If you read Gary Chapman’s book, The Five Love Languages, you’ll see there are different ways to show you love someone. It is wise to know what your partner’s version is, so you aren’t just expressing your love the way you want it to be expressed. But, rather how he or she can feel it.)
While I like all kinds of sweet nothings whispered in my ear along with a really great massage, Husband just wants me sitting in the right seat of an airplane. If I was a 25 year old bride I’m not sure I would have abided by this. But, an over 40 bride? Well, let’s just say “I know what I don’t know,” faster.
So, this is how I ended up this weekend at the Virginia Festival of Flight in Suffolk, Virginia, where they have the once-a-year Big Ceremony to congratulate all who have completed the Ambassadors game of stamp-collecting. I did this instead of sleeping in and watching a Supernatural marathon. Rather, since a leather jacket was waiting, and it was the one place where I could attend the safety seminar to earn that one herewith-elusive stamp, off we went.
What is true LBB love? Let me count the ways. True love is:
- Ignoring the sleep deprivation of the week previously and getting up early on a Saturday morning to drive 2.8 hours through dismal trailer park neighborhoods surrounding Suffolk to get to said festival. (We couldn’t fly due to thunderstorms between Here and There.)
- Sitting in a steamy, 90 degree hothouse tent to listen to an FAA official discuss aircraft owner/operator responsibilities for maintenance regulations, including references to government regulation bulletin numbers, for – wait for it – 2.3 hours. (Yes, the “point three” counts). Even Husband said, afterward, you really earned that stamp.
- Eating food from a trailer (affectionately known as “festival food”), but choosing the Greek veggie platter hoping it had less calories than anything else offered only to have immediate buyer’s remorse upon seeing what was poured over everything and thinking, should I be eating sour cream sauce in 90 degree heat?
- Driving home through Suffolk’s ‘hood because the GPS told us to go that way, and Husband wouldn’t pull over (probably smart) to try to change it, but attempting to change it en route therefore weaving in and out of our lane.
- Getting home at 7 p.m. with just enough energy to go out to eat, only to remember it was UVA’s graduation weekend (read: anyplace that serves food, including the local 7-11, would be packed), but managed to squeeze into Sakura for beer and sushi.
- Falling into bed at 9:15 that night (on a Saturday!), falling asleep immediately, knowing we weren’t missing anything worth going out for anyway.
I am sure had I gotten married in my 20s none of this would have been in the cards. I guess we call this marital maturity. But, then again, maybe I’m crazy. I just hope Husband noticed.
