We Like This Kind of Bud

John found out that he has the opportunity to be Bud Anderson's escort next week during his induction to the Aviation Hall of Fame.

Go ahead, click on the link. I'll wait. Because this is cool. It's so cool that it totally makes up for delaying our vacation trip up to Michigan we've had planned with my family for like, forever.

The fact that I'm even a bit excited about this gives you a tiny, teeny-tiny clue of just how excited John is. Really, this is an opportunity of a lifetime. A WWII Ace? Wait, no -- triple ace. And test pilot. And active pilot still at 86 and going strong.

My husband is the biggest WWII buff you could ever know. And he's obsessed with aircraft and anything that had a gun from that era. He's the kind of guy you can walk through an aircraft museum with who can tell you about every single thing you see. He speaks of fuselages and wing spars as intimately as some guys talk baseball scores and batting averages. He's a geek model builder of the highest order. Although he doesn't build models so much anymore as collect boxes of them to hoard (300 and counting). You know, for his retirement. Or his widowhood, take your pick. Because moving around and finding a place to store those models everywhere we go is just about to kill me.

He also just so happens to already own his own scaled rendition of Bud's P-51, Old Crow. (Hey, Bud, do you mind if I call you Bud?) You know he's getting this baby autographed.

And he gets to meet the guy. And spend four days carting him around, showing him the sights, keeping him on schedule, polishing his shoes and holding his umbrella, if that's what it takes. Because I don't think we've gone four days in Ohio without something wet falling from the sky since we moved here almost a year ago.

He doesn't know the itinerary for the whole four days yet, but the induction ceremony itself is on Saturday. The day we were supposed to leave on vacation. But, hey, Michigan ain't going anywhere.