For the love of FOD

FOD = Foreign Object Debris.


Ok.  Think….  little things that can go into little parts of planes and cause big problems.

Well…  we had some FOD tonight ladies and gentlemen.  Yes, we did.

I don’t know how it happens, but it seems that Husband is a FOD magnet.  FOD problems follow him at all the most inopportune times.

For instance:  A few hours after checking out on leave this afternoon.

I don’t have to tell you that when he signs out, for whatever reason, he doesn’t want to hear from anyone at work until he signs  back in again.  So, when the phone rang tonight, and it was his supervisor asking about a teeny-tiny little nut, I knew things were not going to be shiny and happy.

The phone rang about four more times.  And Husband was called back into work even though he is on leave.  Really.  Not.  Good.

FOD could be a little bit metaphorical really.  I mean it could represent the butterfly effect–something really, really tiny that can cause really disastrous things to happen….  For FOD the disaster is either in a plane or in a work place–especially a workplace that is as dedicated to FOD-busting as Husband’s is.  (That’s right….  Who you gonna call?  FOD-busters!  They even wear nifty little coveralls).  Planes can be downed (and are) because of these teeny-tiny little bits of matter.  Flight schedules can go to pot.  And the personal repercussions for one connected to a ‘FOD scandal’ aren’t usually good.

As I said it happens at all the wrong times.  We’re heading back to IL bright and early tomorrow morning.  We have hours of travelling ahead of us and then a ‘vacation’ that looks to be far from restful as we try to see every person that we possibly can AND pull off a wedding.  I’m a little ball of emotion about it all already

Luckily, the phone just rang.  Husband and his shop did some dumpster diving and actually recovered this minuscule little nut that almost downed a few planes.  Ok–seriously…  Imagine these poor guys and gals digging through the dumpster looking for this teeny tiny little thing (with there nifty FOD-buster ray guns and dumpster scanners, no doubt).  It’s kind of a ridiculous picture isn’t it?  And the kicker is–they found the little thing on the second pass through this particular garbage sack, covered in chewing tobacco and tucked inside a discarded Egg McMuffin.  Isn’t that visual just almost poetic?

But it’s a picture I’m grateful for.

It’s like they found a needle in a haystack.  Literally. 

So I think I’ll call this our little mini-miracle.  Good thing God cares about FOD.


5 thoughts on “For the love of FOD

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