Pilot's Log

Sagittarius Horoscope for week of January 12, 2012

I suspect you may soon find yourself in a situation similar to the one that 19th-century American President Abraham Lincoln was in when he said the following: "If this is coffee, please bring me some tea. But if this is tea, please bring me some coffee." In other words, Sagittarius, you may not be picky about what you want, but whatever it is, you'll prefer it to be authentic, pure, and distinctly itself. Adulterations and hodgepodges won't satisfy you, and they won't be useful. Hold out for the Real Thing.

The other day I looked through a pile of old periodicals for sale and found three of the Ducimus Camouflage & Markings pamphlets. I can't believe that I'd never seen any before, and suddenly I want to get both the compiled volumes. So what if they're innaccurate, dated and low tech...they're worth having.

Was a slice of bread pizza in the oven and echoes from some town's very loud fireworks.

As the sound came about two minutes after the stroke, and sound travels at a mile every five seconds, it must have been from Morristown or Knoxville.

My green tea must be finshed brewing by now.

Contemplating what I want to do next.

I should create a sig graphic for the forums that I frequent.

I should scan something.

I should figure out the default pixel/inch figure for my graphics program.

I should decide which decals to put on my Mustang fighter plane model.

I should find something interesting to blog about.

Smells like the tea is ready to drink. I shall meditate a while.

FP

Hey.

I haven't lived in a house with operational air conditioning in so long I've forgotten to miss it. I love air conditioning. I love de-humidification. I wish this house I'm in now had both.

Instead, I consume some sort of liquid beverage, every waking hour, practically on the hour. Right now there is a partially enjoyed tankard of tea on my desk while I'm writing this blog. I know the hydration is important but wish I didn't have to do so much of it.

I'm sick of ceiling fans. My father likes them so he installed them in the kitchen, the living room, the dining room and his master bedroom. But the ceiling in my room is too low for one, thank the 19th Century architects of this farmhouse.

I'm weary of "rustic". Sure the house we moved from in Florida was no prize but at least the outside walls were cinder block and stucco--and the floors concrete. This house?--I bet the groundhogs burrowing under the foundation walls ultimately condemn the place.

I know I should be grateful I have a "home". But this isn't my home and it will never be my home. I want to go home.

FP