Outside the Frame - Quarantine Edition

It’s day 44 of the COVID-19 pandemic for our household. It’s important for me to begin by saying that we have been incredibly lucky and blessed to be healthy and safe and staying put in our suburban house with a yard and cars we can take for rides.

My three and a half year old son and I spend the bulk of each day together. We also spend a good portion of each night together, since he began transitioning from his crib to a bed just before this whole thing started and has not been sleeping well. Thankfully we’re at the point that we’re averaging one 3am wakeup that requires me to go into his room and help him get back to sleep. It’s a good morning if he sleeps past 5:30am. This morning counted as a good morning, even if my alarm clock was him accidentally kicking me square in the nose (this is the third time my nose has been injured during quarantine, so my first stop when things reopen will likely be a plastic surgeon).

In the beginning, as worksheets and videos began to ping my email inbox and my FaceBook feed surged with educational ideas and color-coded schedules, I felt overwhelmed. I felt a lot of pressure to emulate what others were doing – something I thought I had let go around the time that my son was being evaluated for all of his differences and I had to accept that it would be a while – maybe never – before we would be doing what everyone else was doing. That was back when going to a simple birthday party was something to seriously consider and probably forego because he would become overstimulated and try to leave or get upset by a sound or sight and lash out. Thankfully, birthday parties have become something he mostly likes now (except when “Happy Birthday” is sung, although I know adults who don’t like that, either).

But this new challenge, this being at home with no school, no afternoon gym or science classes, and no in-person therapies (no SEIT, no Occupational Therapist, no Physical Therapist, no _T of any kind), was going to be difficult in an entirely new way. So why did I think that I should just jump on the homeschooling bandwagon? I’m happy for others for whom that has worked. But after a few days I realized it wasn’t going to work for us and I significantly lowered the bar for what counted as a good day.

What’s working is a goal of one eight-minute quasi-educational activity every day. What counts as a quasi-educational activity? Anything we do while awake that doesn’t involve an ipad…unless that ipad has a teacher on Zoom or a letter or number activity, then that totally counts!

I’m here to be honest about what this looks like. If you need an antidote to all those curated FaceBook highlights of preschoolers baking neat loaves of banana bread, making sidewalk chalk “thank you” signs that double as letter-tracing work, or basically anything anyone is doing from the Busy Toddler website, you’ve come to the right place.

Earlier this week, I convinced my son to engage in a rare sustained pretend play session. This was sparked by my giving him an electronic cash register with a scanner. We set up the aisles with toy food that has been laying untouched around our house for months. We grabbed a toy shopping cart that he inexplicably had only used to load down with random items and cover with a blanket (creating his own heavywork?). We took turns being the shopper and the cashier. When he was the cashier, he helped me find items I needed and even asked if I would like “big broccoli” or “small broccoli”? I definitely wanted small, or none, but he insisted I take the big one. Maybe he knew of a sale that day? He scanned and bagged my items, loaded them into my shopping cart, and even carted them all the way home to my play kitchen. We both laughed when we realized the supermarket cashier had left his post and had somehow ended up in my kitchen, as if that would be so funny if it happened in real life and not creepy at all. Then we switched roles and he shopped and I checked out and bagged his items.

But for every half-hour supermarket play session there are 33 refusals to make seed balls out of recycled paper for Earth Day and a baker’s dozen refusals to make cupcakes, ice them ourselves and top them off with ample rainbow sprinkles. Who doesn’t want to make cupcakes?? I mean, I shouldn’t want to since my sweatpants are fitting like a second skin... For every supermarket play session, there are also failed introductions of new Play Doh sets where I extrude, mold, and model shapes, and he takes the remaining Play Doh, smushes it all together into a ball, smears it like a new finish all over the table, then wants me to extricate it back to separate colors, and lays on the floor having a tantrum when I can’t.

I think we need an Instagram post about which stand is best for your child to be on your iPad all day while you make your seventh cup of coffee. I think we need an Instagram post about how to make a homemade pooch patch for your leggings so you can let them out and keep eating. How about an Instagram post about how okay it is if you want to put your maternity leggings back on during this time? Or one suggesting the best flavor ice cream to let your child have for breakfast?

Daily I also try to have my picture-perfect moments. A recent high for me: My son building LEGO with me and actually completing something. A recent low for me: Just as the last little brick is going in, a little Godzilla stomping all over it before the first pretend scene even began. If that’s not a good metaphor for these days, I have others...and they’re not metaphors, they’re things that have actually happened. Like the joy of seeing my son rediscover puzzles and start putting the pieces together on his own, only to misplace one piece, scream “It’s ruined!” as he chucked the whole thing to the side of the room followed by his body onto the floor. No biggie, not like I haven’t done this in my attempts to cook dinner.

No Joy

In aviation, when air traffic control (ATC) alerts you that there is traffic (other aircraft in the vicinity of your flight), your radio response should include whether you have spotted that traffic, whether it is in your way or not, whether you need to move to avoid it, or whether you do not see it. For the last option, you can tell the controller, "We do not have the traffic in sight," or something similarly wordy, but another option for conveying that you do not see the other aircraft is to say, "No joy," which is an old expression indicating that you do not have your target in sight.

I would argue that the expression "No joy" could also be used during flight training, when trying to capture a new certification or endorsement and not quite getting it, or better yet trying to capture the happiness and excitement about flying in the first place. I'm bringing all of this up because, although I turned in consistently good tailwheel landings today, I was not able to capture that feeling of joy from flying that I usually get when I do it. When I popped up in the air in the Super Cub today, the thrill was gone and it felt more like work, like an unattainable goal, like a Sisyphean task, except instead of pushing a boulder up a hill and having it repeatedly roll back down, I bounced those bush tires down on the grass strip just to take off and bounce them down again. Maybe I'm being punished for thinking this was something I could be great at?

Things that could have contributed to my continued but ultimately futile search for my target, joy:

- Hassles encountered upon getting my car out of the parking garage and driving it from the city out to rural New Jersey: Before I even had the opportunity to enter the fray that is the traffic heading towards the Lincoln Tunnel on 9th Avenue, one of the parking attendants yelled at me for politely asking for my car. For once I yelled back (kind of; he was meaner).

- Gusty winds making me work harder for good flying: The winds scared me a bit as my wings got bumped up and down, but that just made the consistently good landings that much more rewarding. But it wasn't fun. I wasn't enjoying anticipating when to put in more aileron for crosswind correction on takeoff, when to crab, or anticipating shear as I came in past a cluster of tall trees. Okay, I did start to enjoy the crosswind correction on takeoff, especially when the Cub leaned on the right tire.

- Negativity from other pilots: Someone I have seen hanging around the airport but not actually flying was intent on criticizing my home airport, Lincoln Park (N07). I myself have written on this blog about feeling intimidated by the tiny strip, but have always been focused on feeling confident to land there (which I finally do), and I don't think negativity or scare tactics help. This pilot continually brought up crashes there, even warning me not to stand too close to the woods near our airplane hangar because I might get hit by a crashing plane. The only upside to this conversation was that for once I said exactly what I would have wished to have said later when ruminating about it, simply responding: "You're intense about Lincoln Park, aren't you? I think we should all be proud of our home airports and we should all try to fly safely."

- Wishing I had the sign-off in my logbook already. I know, I know: "You can't hurry Cub, noooo you'll just have to wait..." [sung to the tune of "You Can't Hurry Love"]

I sure hope the thrill isn't gone away for good for me and the Super Cub, and that in the coming weeks instead of saying, "No joy" about the elusive thrill I can say "Tally ho!" (meaning I have my target in sight).

Current Events

As I was thinking about what to write about flying earlier today, I remarked to Mr. Aviatrix that there wasn't much to say because today's flight was uneventful. What I realized almost as soon as I said that is that that is a good thing. I also think I am feeling that way because flying is becoming more of a regular thing for me, and I am feeling less and less like a 'wannabe' and more and more like a plain old aviatrix. And yet it was eventful because it was a beautiful day of once again seeing things I would only get to see from our small aircraft flying over the snow-dusted hills and ridges and thawing rivers and lakes of the states of New Jersey and New York.

Even the fact that we can talk on the radio to other aircraft in the pattern with us at untowered airports still leaves me with a sense of wonder. For example, today we were in the pattern at Sullivan County Airport (KMSV) in Bethel, New York with a Piper Comanche ahead of us. Nothing eventful happened, and yet I still think it is very cool that as we were calling out our positions to each other, we could watch our aircraft carrying out our plans; when he said he was turning left base, watching his single-enging, low-wing plane square off to the left from our vantage still amazed me, even though I've seen my share of aircraft in the pattern.

After we turned in some landings at KMSV, we headed back to Lincoln Park (N07). It was a nice little 'currency' flight, making sure we got up for about an hour and a half and got some flying in. I even dialed in a nice landing at N07 with a little welcome guidance from Mr. Aviatrix. I am extremely grateful for another non-eventful and yet very eventful flight.

Sunshine State Survey

I'm feeling a little less like a "wannabe" and a slightly more like a regular "aviatrix" as I write this. Mr. Aviatrix, our dog whose head is shaped like an airplane with giant delta wing ears, and our C182 have all been in Florida for a couple of weeks for some immersive flying. My goals have been to increase my comfort with our plane and with being PIC, to prepare for the instrument rating written exam, and to build PIC cross-country hours for the instrument rating (the FAA requires 50). Mr. Aviatrix also did some training: He obtained his multi-engine seaplane rating in a Grumman Widgeon! He is now in possession of every possible airplane rating.

We based our plane and ourselves in Vero Beach (KVRB). I flew a lot of hours with a terrific CFI and IFR guru. Although I thought my KLAL training had me flying all over Florida, this time I really took a survey of the Sunshine State. The IFR guru and I took a couple of trips down memory lane and visited Lakeland (KLAL), where I completed my private pilot training. We flew to Space Coast Regional, which itself provides long runways (5,000 and 7000 ft) but is also so-named due to its proximity to the NASA Shuttle Landing Facility, which has a 15,000 foot runway that can be viewed from your plane and approached low, but definitely not landed upon. I practiced some landings at small, untowered fields like Pahokee (KPHK), La Belle (X14), and Sebastian (X26). We even visited a fly-in community, Spruce Creek (7FL6), which is where Mr. Aviatrix did his Grumman Widgeon-ing.

Today we flew to Venice Beach (KVNC) to meet friends of ours for lunch. I was PIC and Mr. Aviatrix handled the radios and also helped me out with flight planning. Our dog was PAX. Flying us all there and back, I finally felt like a real pilot, rather than some imposter who is living (and flying) in fear that the FAA is going to send me a letter saying that signing off on my check ride was a mistake and could I please return that little seafoam green card with Orville and Wilbur on the back?

Flying Meditation

“When once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return.” — Leonardo da Vinci

Leonardo da Vinci was probably not talking about flying an airplane when he said or wrote these words but they applied to whatever his version of the freedom of flight might have been and for most of us who fly aircraft, the words likely ring true.

I returned to flying our Cessna Skylane today after a 4+ month hiatus during which I was cheating on it with an aforementioned (in other posts) Super Cub. Admittedly, I was not looking forward to flying the Skylane, despite its greater speed and G1000 glass cockpit. One reason I was not so enthusiastic is that winter has finally arrived in the northeast and temperatures the past couple of days have been in the 20s. I did not relish pre-flighting in the frigid hangar, feeling my fingertips go numb as I fumbled with my checklist and my fuel sump. I was not looking forward to getting into so much plane after flying a more stripped down aircraft that felt like I had strapped on my own pair of wings every time I flew it.

And yet, this apprehension about flying the Skylane was the very reason that I needed to fly it, kind of like feeling like you are too stressed to meditate or don't have time is the very time that you need to do it most. I needed to get back in the sky in this plane and remind myself that I knew how to fly it...and that is pretty much what I started doing.

For those following routes of flight on this blog, we began at N07 of course and headed to MGJ for a few landings. I quickly learned that all of my tailwheel landings would do me no favors, as I had to readjust my sight picture, my use of airspeed, flaps, and trim, and my flare. Thankfully it didn't take too long. Then in a bit of symmetry, we flew the Skylane to 12N where I've been doing my tailwheel endorsement. I managed to do some nice landings on a runway that is similarly short and narrow compared to N07, waved to my wonderful tailwheel instructor, and headed back to N07, where I was finally able to dial in some nice landings after feeling so challenged last year. I think I might be a real pilot after all!

I had a wonderful time and was reminded again of how time flies when I am PIC (and how it's a bit slower when someone else is in the left seat). Not only does time fly, it stops - I forget everything on the ground that is bothering me and automatically place my focus on the plane. I don't even have to try not to think about stressors, rather they just magically recede and evaporate. And now I am back on the ground, looking out the window at the blue, cloudless sky and thinking about when I will be up there again (which will be tomorrow).

If at first you don't succeed, fly, fly again

If yesterday felt like a lesson in what not to do when learning to fly tailwheel aircraft, today felt like how to fix all of those errors and get it right. I woke up this morning determined to get to the airport, get back in the groove and flow of tailwheel flying, and most of all to have fun. 1.9 training hours and 17 grass strip landings later I can say that not only did I accomplish that list of goals but also that I did it while dealing with a crosswind.

Crosswinds and gusts have intimidated me since I began flying in 2012, and my intimidation hasn't diminished simply because I passed my checkride and have my ticket. And yet I had much more flying around today than I did yesterday when the winds were calm. We certainly worked on crosswind landings, but also crosswind takeoffs, nudging the plane to lean on the left or right tire during takeoff depending on wind direction - something that you can and should do in a tri-gear plane like our Skylane but that felt more extreme to me in the Super Cub. I was nervous to do that but with the big bush tires on the Super Cub it was so much fun!

Today's fixes for yesterday's problems included:

1) Remembering to sit up straight in my seat rather than crouching down as I descended, a habit I had formed as if I had to bodily land the same way as the plane.

2) Envisioning the glide path of my plane properly when on downwind in order to turn base at the right time, remembering that it is less about a squared-off pattern and more about setting myself up at the right angle and height to land well, and being reminded that this will change depending on airports, terrain, wind, and aircraft.

3) Being mindful of the terrain below me. For example, on a windy day like today, my instructor's suggestion to extend my crosswind to avoid turning and flying downwind over a ridge was extremely helpful in terms of avoiding getting bumped around. And he did the right thing by letting me make the mistake of flying downwind over the ridge myself and experiencing those jolts before suggesting an easy way to avoid it on the next pattern.

4) Not giving up when I didn't like something that was happening on short final approach or as I was over the runway, and realizing that I could make small corrections to revise and improve my landings that were in the moment, intuitive, and effective.

When I woke up this morning I really did not want to go flying because I was feeling so discouraged about yesterday's flying but then I remembered something that I learned from my CFI in Lakeland that seems pretty simple to say and think but can be difficult to put into practice when you feel like you're failing: If at first you don't succeed, fly, fly again!

Stalling the Aviatrix

In aviation, one way to think of a stall is as an event caused by a lack of air flowing over the wings of an airplane, which leads to a deficit in the amount of lift needed to keep the airplane flying. Today I felt like I stalled - like a number of things got to me while I was flying, resulting in a lack of airflow and thus a lack of lift. Please note that this was not at all the case in my actual flying, but more in the way the act of flying and learning felt. All of this is to say that I feel disappointed in my tailwheel flying today.

I logged two hours and sixteen landings in the Super Cub today between Andover Aeroflex Airport's and Trinca Airport's grass strips in the service of my ongoing quest for my tailwheel endorsement. By the end of the time, the landings were fine, but just that and not good, great, excellent, or perfect (not terrible, poor, or dangerous thankfully but not what I wanted, either). So they were fine but could use some work to attain a solid assessment of "good".

Weather, work, family obligations, illness, and lack of funds are the kinds of things that get in the way of heading to the airport to go flying. But what about the things that hinder flying once you've pre-flighted and are taxiing to the runway to take off? The things that get into your brain and won't get out no matter how vigorously you try to shake them out? What about the things that come up during the flight that might throw you off? I'm thinking of examples like:

- not getting enough sleep the night before and deciding to fly anyway

- engaging in the typical 24/7 work lifestyle that so many people have adopted out of necessity so that there are always emails pinging and files to work on over the weekend

- having a conflict with a friend, spouse, partner, co-worker, or family member that nags at you

- worry about something, ranging from waiting to hear about medical test results to wondering if your dog is okay at home without you to hoping you get that home loan to hoping you don't hit too much traffic on the way home to just about anything people typically worry about

- differences in pattern etiquette (e.g., "We're using runway 1." vs. "Well, we're using runway 19!") [For the non-aviators/aviatrices reading this, runways can usually be utilized in either direction so the runway number depends on which direction you're taking off and landing. These directions always differ by 180 degrees as they are based on a magnetic compass, just as North refers to 0 degrees and South refers to 180 degrees on a compass. Thus, pilots need to agree on which runway they are taking because they cannot arrange to meet in the middle to admire each other's aircraft.]

- the wind picking up

- lack of confidence

- needing to use the bathroom (Just as your car does not have a toilet, neither does my small plane which seats the same number of people, if not sometimes fewer.)

I have some hypotheses about what happened with my flying today and it's two or three of the above, all of which resulted in distractions and a negative mindset leading my proverbial Aviatrix wings to stall. I'm going up again tomorrow and I'm going to try to bring a better attitude about whatever comes my way. Mr. Aviatrix picked me up in our Skylane, so here is a photo of us flying away from Andover (in the upper quarter of the image):