Hi, I'm Josh.

Where it started

As a kid, I learned pretty quickly that space doesn't always announce itself with a big visible show.

Sometimes it was just a normal evening at home… and then two sharp cracks would roll in from the east. The windows would buzz. The walls would thump — not like thunder, more like the house itself had flinched.

That's the kind of moment Central Florida space fans recognize: a booster coming back, a mission with a return-to-land profile where the first stage descends toward Cape Canaveral and the sonic booms can carry inland. Not every launch does it, and not everyone in Florida hears it — but when it lines up, you don't forget it.

Back then, those moments felt like magic. Space didn't feel distant. It felt nearby.

Then I lost the spark

School turned into work. Work turned into responsibility. The days got louder and faster, and somewhere along the way, space became a "later" thing. I still cared — but it wasn't that electric, stop-you-in-your-tracks kind of wonder anymore.

The spark came back

In 2021, my wife and I had our daughter, Winnie.

And not long after, I saw it — that same look I remember from my childhood — when she stared up at the sky like it was trying to tell her something. "Space." "Star." Simple words, huge meaning. Watching her light up didn't just remind me why I loved it… it pulled that part of me back to the surface.

Artemis reminded me to look up

In 2022, I watched the Artemis I night launch. I didn't wake Winnie — she was only one — and I still regret it.

The sky didn't just glow. It transformed. Like Florida got a brief second sunrise and everyone got the same message: go outside. Look up.

Then SpaceX did something that felt impossible

And then came the moment that didn't just bring the spark back — it amplified it.

I watched SpaceX do something that looked like straight-up science fiction: a giant booster returning to the launch site and getting caught by the tower's massive mechanical arms — the "chopsticks." No landing legs. No gentle touchdown on a pad out in the distance. Just a controlled descent into a robotic catch like the future showed up early.

That's when it clicked for me: this isn't just "cool rockets." We're watching a new era get built in real time.

Why I built this site

This started as a passion project — but honestly, it's a time-with-my-daughter project.

Launch info is often scattered, easy to miss, and weirdly hard to follow if your goal is simple: step outside and share the moment with someone you love.

So I built one place that makes it easy to:

• See what's launching and when (including clear "NET" timing when that's all we've got)
• Get reminders so you actually go outside
• Catch the most relevant updates without hunting aimlessly

Because in Central Florida, the best space moments aren't just the ones you stream — they're the ones you feel in real life: the bright streak in the distance, the sky changing color… and, on certain landings, that unmistakable double-boom that reminds you the mission didn't just go up — it came back.