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I have photos of the corsetiére's progress, and the finished product. Which I was laced into tonight, and damn if it doesn't...corset. Now on to the coat, and thence to the gown to go between them.
8/7/11
To The Stars
8/7/11 08:49When I was pregnant with Sarcasm Girl, over twenty one years ago, the Spouse and I went on one pre-kid extravaganza: a trip to Disney World (because it's easier to act like a kid yourself when you don't have an actual kid in tow). While we were there we learned there was a shuttle launch planned, so we got up at 3am one morning and drove across Florida to arrive at a patch of grass and reeds, across the water from the launch tower, where there was already a crowd of maybe a hundred people, similarly geeky and excited by it all. Sadly, the weather turned sour and the shuttle didn't launch, but we had a lovely time regardless, there among a hundred+ like-minded space fans who became instant friends. Afterward we went and had lunch at a diner recommended by one of the regular shuttle-watchers, and then went to the Kennedy Space Center and did the tour (and got a "NASA suit" sized for a newborn, in which to bring SG home from the hospital--a gesture toward "you can go to the stars if you want to" that meant a lot to me).
It's 21+ years later, and this morning I watched the last shuttle launch from the comfort of my couch, with Emily snoring gently in the sunlight nearby. Beautiful, clear, gorgeous video, including shots of that same green area where the Spouse and I stood watching all those years ago (it's gotten very civilized: they put up a count-down clock and someone has mowed the area) with considerably more than a hundred people watching. There was a hold at T-31 seconds while some small thing was checked out and, when the clock restarted, a flutter of applause and excitement. And then the launch, which was perfect and made me cry.
I've always been a little dorky about space flight. I'm old enough to remember hearing about Mercury launches and watching Apollo launches (in grainy black and white, with Walter Cronkhite, a fellow space geek, narrating). I remember the blossom of hope for humankind when we reached the moon: if we could do this, surely we could solve all the other Earth-bound problems (I know. I was young, okay?). And holding my breath when things on Apollo 13 went sour, along with a billion or so of my fellow humans. And crying, walking down the street in New London, CT, when I was in college, reading about the first US-Soyuz mission (again with the "hey, if we can do this, then surely there's hope, right?"). So I figure I have earned the right to weep a little at the beauty and the promise of the shuttle launch, and to continue hoping that, while we wrestle with problems on our planet, we don't forget to reach beyond it. A man's reach must exceed his grasp, or what's a heaven for, right?
It's 21+ years later, and this morning I watched the last shuttle launch from the comfort of my couch, with Emily snoring gently in the sunlight nearby. Beautiful, clear, gorgeous video, including shots of that same green area where the Spouse and I stood watching all those years ago (it's gotten very civilized: they put up a count-down clock and someone has mowed the area) with considerably more than a hundred people watching. There was a hold at T-31 seconds while some small thing was checked out and, when the clock restarted, a flutter of applause and excitement. And then the launch, which was perfect and made me cry.
I've always been a little dorky about space flight. I'm old enough to remember hearing about Mercury launches and watching Apollo launches (in grainy black and white, with Walter Cronkhite, a fellow space geek, narrating). I remember the blossom of hope for humankind when we reached the moon: if we could do this, surely we could solve all the other Earth-bound problems (I know. I was young, okay?). And holding my breath when things on Apollo 13 went sour, along with a billion or so of my fellow humans. And crying, walking down the street in New London, CT, when I was in college, reading about the first US-Soyuz mission (again with the "hey, if we can do this, then surely there's hope, right?"). So I figure I have earned the right to weep a little at the beauty and the promise of the shuttle launch, and to continue hoping that, while we wrestle with problems on our planet, we don't forget to reach beyond it. A man's reach must exceed his grasp, or what's a heaven for, right?