If you don’t have a persona, feel lucky. Be glad. Commence to doing cartwheels in the street. I should have known, SINthia would be coming around, the hateful rip. It’s been a month and she can’t stand for my life to go well for that long. So of course, she came and reared hear beautiful, ugly, little head…

The phone rang. It was the family who owns our local airport calling to invite W and family, over for a birthday party and a ride in their new aerobatics plane. I hung up the phone feeling grateful for being a part of a small community where people have your back, come together when tragedy strikes and rejoice together in good days. This was a good day.

Wow, this is going to be awesome. An adrenalin junkie at heart, I’m always looking for my next buzz. That is exactly why skydiving is on my bucket list. Ben has never been hip on the idea of  me skydiving while he holds our babies and watches from the ground. At least this would be close. 

The pilot was happy, calm and chatty. He didn’t really seem to think it odd when he explained, the only reason he was strapping on a parachute and I wasn’t, was that it made him sit taller in the seat.

He strapped me in double, put my headset on and starting explaining the different buttons and levers. [This is cool. I'm a real copilot. I wonder if he'll let me drive...] Of course, my mind has always drifted at the most opportune times. My first aerobatics plane ride was no different.

“…so, one more time, one is to talk the other is the throttle…”

[Did he say...throttle?]

“Testing Testing 123. Can you hear me, Sis?”

That’s a….ooops…that’s a throttle…that’s a big 10-4, good buddy, come on.  (Shoot, I’m not trucking, I’m flying)…uhhh..yeah, dude, loud and clear, over and out.

“Prop–clear?”

[thumbs-up]

“Okay we are ready for take-off, we’ll stop up here at the end of the runway to power-up.”

“Air controller guy, this is november-four-eight-echo-whiskey, ready for take off on run way one-zero…”

[This is soooo awesome. It's just like Topgun. This is the best day ever. Power up? Why does he need to power up. Maybe I'm too heavy, maybe I shouldn't have eaten all those donuts...] ZOOOOOOOM ten feet down the runway we were up in the air.

Whiskey? Did someone say whiskey? I’ll take a double. Why are we shaking? Why is the plane shaking? Fly dude, why is the plane shaking back and forth? Cuss west Kansas wind. Cuss SINitha. Cuss…

“Okay, we’re up. Sis, you doing okay?”

Well it depends upon what your definition of okay is. I’m Okay, if pee running down my leg is acceptable. I’m not okie dokie if I have to reach over and press the button to talk to you.

[Giggling] “Okay. We’ll start with a deep turn right. Then we’ll do a hammer head, where we’ll go straight up, the engine will stall, and then we’ll go straight down. And we’ll finish up with the loop to loop. Nothing major, everything we do today will keep you pressed back in your seat, so you won’t be left hanging. How does that sound?”

My hands are clammy now, and I am playing with the clip on the seat belt, like some suicidal idiot.

“Sis, you need to talk right into the microphone.”

Uh, yeah, good, okay, sounds fine.

The deep turn was fun. The hammer head was really cool. And the loop to loop was over before I knew what was happening.

“This is your captain speaking…we’ll fly over your house, over town and then land. Are you still doing alright?”

I could barely breathe, my shirt was drenched with sweat, my butt was permanently puckered,  and I could throw up any minute. But only manage to say, “I’m a little nauseous, actually, but I’m okie dokie.”

“I get nauseous, too if I haven’t flown for a while. How about you drive for awhile. I won’t let you get in trouble.”

What? Is this some kind of joke? 

“Do you see the stick between your legs?”

“Yes, I see it.” With any luck, it’s a broom stick, and that, witch, SINthia, drives one all the time.

“Good. Pull back to go up. Push forward to go down. Left for left. Right for right. It’s all yours.”

Confidently SINthia grabbed the control stick, went up fast, down faster, a quick right, a jerk left, and then she bailed out, parachuting to safety, leaving me to fly the damn thing. After about five seconds of flying, my mouth was dry, my muscles were locked up and I barely had enough sense to say, “Okay, I’m done.”

“How are you doing now?”

Nauseous.

“Yeah, sometimes I won’t eat for 3 or 4 hours after flying.”

Good diet plan.

“Air controller guy, this is november-four-eight-echo-whiskey, requesting…”

I didn’t leave the couch the rest of the day. I just laid their dreaming in feverish fits of double shots of WHISKEY, a toilet to throw up in, and shooting my alter ego off of her broom stick next time she does a fly by. I would rethink my bucket list, but am afraid if I took skydiving off of it, she would replace it with an entry in a heavy weight pole dancing contest  in Vegas. She would love that!

May Day! May Day!

Sis

SINthia (Don’t know SINthia? Click here to meet her.)

P.S. Yep it’s me again. Isn’t this fun? Sis is such a light weight. My next plan is to give her a couple of glasses of wine and talk her into a Snoopy vs The Red Baron tattoo, since she’s such a great pilot. Later!

Disclaimer: Please note. The pilot figured here is a master of his craft, a stand up guy, and a great American. This disertation is my perception of reality, however skewed. Keep in mind, my reality is reliably a half bubble off of plumb, at best. Add to that excitement, fear and a fair amount of poetic license. Welcome to my world.

You’re bound to meet her at some point, so I may as well just introduce you to SINthia. She’s, me personified. My evil twin. My alter ego. SHE is what happens in Vegas. I can’t stand her, even her name drives me crazy. It certainly fits, though, it sounds like the low down slithery snake she is. I think bushwhack and sabotage must be her middle names. There’s a lot of reasons I don’t like her, but the biggest reason is her behavior. She’s totally irresponsible. It just makes me want to twist off. But, what I really hate about her, she has waaaay more fun than I do.

The Redneck G String

Case in point: a couple years ago she decided she was going to be sexy, like a Victoria Secrets underwear model. So SHE took some of My old Wranglers and made them into daisy dukes with cute little frayed edges. Then she cut the back out into some strange G string looking, uummm I don’t know negligee thingy. That’s just the beginning. THEN she took two red bandannas and made some sort of bikini top out of that (don’t ask me how…) Then I didn’t see her for a while. Thank God!

She showed up later, though, after the kids were in bed, of course. When the work is done, here she comes, taunting me to wear that stupid sexy outfit to bed. And I listened to her. STUPID! I should have known where all this was heading, when 30 minutes later I’m lying on the floor of the bathroom sweating all my carefully applied make-up off trying to get her redneck G string and booger bag bikini top on and Ben knocks at the door. SHOOT! I try to calm myself by at least getting up off the floor and opening the door a crack to assure Ben everything is okay.

“…I just need to brush my teeth and th….what’s in your hair…what have you been doing?”

I slammed the door in his face and glanced into the mirror.

Dust bunnies! DANG IT! So much for my french twist up do with sexy little hangy downs.

I’m gonna kill SINthia when I see her again, I muttered. I’ll be out in a minute…why don’t you just skip your teeth tonight, Honey, I won’t tell the tooth fairy…

“Just let me in.”

I grabbed my robe, put it on and opened the door.

“Was that so hard?”

You’ll think hard, later mister, I thought, and stormed out of the bathroom and hurried into our room to light some candles to make this a night he would never forget.

I was right about THAT, he’s never forgotten…When the robe finally came off, and I struck my sexiest pose. (Oh dear) If you picture Ellie May off the Beverly Hillbillies crossed with a retired nightclub dancer….you might get close. The look on Ben’s face was PRICELESS.

“Is THAT what you have been doing in the bathroom all night?”

[HA HA HA HA HA...Ben actually rolling around on our bed GUT laughing--HA HA HA Ben still laughing--HA HA HA--Ben can't breathe for all the laughing] “What IS that thing? Turn around! Where did you get an idea like THAT?”

SINthia, where do you think?

I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or fall on my sword. Death was sounding better by the minute. But, I just started taking off SINthia’s LOVE costume and sniffed, You don’t like it?

Ben said, “No…I mean…I love it…I love her…It’s just…I didn’t expect it.” [Ha ha ha] “I told you in the beginning, nothing turns me on more than a pair of Wranglers in a pile by the bed…” [Pausing mid thought to wipe more tears out of his eyes]

All I could hear was SINthia’s slimy snickers. And there’s nothing that kills a mood quicker than that.

To make matters worse. I went looking for my redneck G string to take a picture of it to show you. (I’ve come this far…I might as well.) I didn’t find it. I’m pretty sure SINthia gave it to Goodwill after cleaning out my drawers. She probably wrote my name and phone number in them too, that would be just like her. Now I’m really embarrassed.

Simply,

Sis

SINthia

P.S. That’s right, it’s me. I’ve commandeered Sis’s computer for the day. She caught me posting this and took off for much prayer and penance, I guess, the ninny, I don’t know what she does. What a prude. I guess she doesn’t understand grace. After this little stunt, you probably won’t hear from me for a while. But, I’ll be back. Somebody has got to put some spice in her life.  Later!