Time for a change

I enjoy blogging and want to keep writing. However, I feel that this blog is for my trip to Iraq and back. Now that I am back, I am done writing on this site. I started a new blog. If you wish to keep on reading of my adventures in this life, check out http://nomoresand.blogspot.com/. See you there, or not.

Getting settled

As I stated in my previous post, I've made it back, safe and sound.  I have decided to drop the method of titles, Day 1 and so on, and make more appropriate titles.

So, I've just spent a crapload of money.  I needed a new computer (don't ever buy a Dell), and decided on a Mac.  The closest Mac store; The Mall of America in the Twin Cities.  A bit of a drive, especially if you've never been there before and don't really know where you're going.  The good news is that my camper was ready to be picked up, and the store that had it is just a bit north of Minneapolis, so I decided to make it a worthwhile trip.  Yesterday I set out on my grand adventure to spend a crapload of money.  Now, some people call me crazy, but when I take a trip where my time schedule is the only one in mind, I usually don't plan.  I knew the Mall was close the airport, in a town that started with Bloom-something, and I knew that if I got onto I-94, it'd take me to the Cities, so a packed clean underware (fresh from Wal-Mart, as I still haven't found mine), my checkbook and hit the road.  I stopped at a rest area just North of the Cities, by about 10 miles, figuring there'd be a map on the wall.  What do you know, there was.  But I couldn't find a listing for the largest shopping mall in America.  I knew it was by the airport, so I found the picture of the airplane on the map and headed that direction.  I figured there'd be signs.  And what do you know, just about the time I thought I was on the wrong road, there was a sign said that the Mall was at exit 2C.  Now, the placement of that sign and my relative proximity to the exit made for some fairly fast lane changes, but I completed my task without a bump or a scratch or horn-honk.  I found parking right in front of one of the doors, located a Mall map, and found the Apple store.  I checked out what I wanted, walked to the Bose store to browse, back to the Apple store, made my purchase (A 17" MacBook Pro and Apple TV) and headed for the exit.  I stopped to ask a nice lady at the Customer Service if I could get back on 494 the way I got off, and she told me I could.  I left the mall and headed North.  I was in the Mall for just under an hour.  It's a nice place, but it's just a big-ass mall.  Any who, I drove North a ways to Big Lake, Minnesota and spent the night.  This morning I drove back towards the Cities and picked up my new Camper.  It tows behind my PT Cruiser.  The only time I know it is there is when the road is a bit bumpy and it starts bouncing.  I can't wait to use it.

I pushed the camper into the garage and am sitting here, playing with my new Mac.  I think it's going to take some time getting used to it.  Where are the 'end', 'home', and 'backspace' buttons?  I'm so confused.

Day 370

I just read the last post to see where I left off. Where to begin. Well, first off, I'm home. Back in Grand Forks, safe and sound. September in Iraq was a bit hurried; sorry for no posts, but getting out of there was priority one. We flew out of Iraq on Tuesday the 22nd of September, spent almost two days in Kuwait, and then flew to Germany, had a two-hour layover in Germany, then flew to Shannon, Ireland for another two-hour layover, then on to Bangor, Maine for another two-hour layover, and finally to an airfield in Wisconsin. We spent a few days in Ft. McCoy, Wisconsin doing our demobilization process. I flew to Bismarck on Tuesday the 29th of September and was met by friends and family. What a long, strange trip it was. The means do justify the end; the bills are paid and I have the GI Bill, but I hope to never go through this again. Only time will tell. My very good friends Don and Sandy Nagle rented a house for me and moved my stuff into it; I just need to find everything. I know my first priority should have been to find underware and a coat (I think North Dakota moved further north in my absence; it's cold here.) However, the first thing I did after getting here was to hook up the stereo and big-screen TV. I still haven't found any underware.

Day 331

Well, it's a new phase here on Tallil. This afternoon I moved into a tent with 12 of my newest best friends. Army cots and close quarters. At least the air conditioner kind of works. Best part; we have wireless internet here, so I'll be able to stay in touch. Well, maybe the best part is that my replacement arrives the day after tomorrow and I leave next month. I cleared out of my room, as my room mate is in the States having back surgery. He and I did Skype text today and he's doing fine. Says he feels like he was kicked by a mule, and I believe it. Surgery to repair two herniated disks can't be fun. I'm into 20-something days left before I leave this place. That's 20-something too many. I tell you, the days are flying by. I purposly don't count the days, as it seems to make time slow down, and when somebody tells me how many days we have left, I am always suprised, and pleasently so. Other than the swine flu, there is a nasty bug going around. Respritory, ear and sinus infections are common. We had a guy here who, a few months ago, had eye pain and then he couldn't see out of one eye. After very close examination, it was determined that a parasite got into his eyeball and then worked its way out. As it ate its way out, through layer after layer of eyeball, all of the fluid between those layers leaked out. Last I heard they were having some luck restoring some of his eyesight. Nobody's really sure how it got in there to begin with. The best guess is that, during one of the frequent sand storms we have here, it got lodged where it shouldn't have. I know, kind of gross, but I wanted to remind you that where we're living is really dirty and disgusting, as if I haven't mentioned it already.

Day 328

I got my two boxes loaded into the conex this morning. My room mates stuff is waiting for somebody else to load it, tomorrow, and there's tons of space in my room now. Too bad I have to move out in three days. Ah, Army cots and no privacy. Just what the doctor ordered. But, moving to the tents means we're just about out of here. Three weeks in a tent and then on a plane. I feel as though we're coming to that last bend in the tunnel, where we know we'll be able to see the light at the far end. Just in case I can't get back on the internet for a while, I wanted to say thank you to all of you who took the time to write, send packages, shoot me an email, or call on Skype. I've always prided myself on the fact that I don't own a cell phone, but I don't know how old guys in WWII did it without constant communication. Knowing that you all are out there, only a few keystrokes away, helped me through some bad days. Thank you. On a happy note, I lost better tha 30 pounds on this trip, and I exercised only when I had to and ate junk food all of the time. I hate playing 'what ifs', but imagine the lean, green, fighting machine I might have become if I had actually, you know, tried.
In a previous post I told you all it was ok to give me a dope slap, one apiece, for trying to stay an additional 6 months. I need all you all to give me repeated slaps up along side the head every time you hear me start any sentence with, "Well, when I was in Iraq, we did it this way." Don't let me get away with it. I see it too many times in others and I'm sure I'll be one of them for a while. Stop the horse before it gets out the starting gate. Squish that bug before it crawls. Pull the tail off of that gecko before it runs away. Drain the gas tank before you put in the key. Make the bed before you get out. Whip the yolks before you put in the cheese. Put a cork in the bottle before the genie gets out. Look both was before crossing the, oh wait, that's not right. Rewind the tape before returning it to the store. Click on the start button to power off. Don't mix salt and pepper in the same jar, no matter how smart it sounded in your head. If you're going to give a guy a swirly, make sure he's got hair. First rule of government spending; why build one when you can build two for twice the price. Ok, it's bed time.

Day 327

Tomorrow morning we start packing our personal gear into the conex for the slow boat ride home. Up at 2 o'clock in the blessed a-m to get to bed about 7 pm every night. We're trying to beat the heat, but this week is a monster. It's over 100 degress by 9 every morning and only gets hotter as the day goes on. We contacted the medics and they'll be at our work site at 7 or 8 each morning with bags of saline to rehydrate us the hard way. Well, it's not the hardest way, since water can be absorbed through the colon. Butt, all things considered, I think I'd rather take a short needle in the arm than a short arm in the ...
For me it is just after 6 pm on Sunday the 23rd. On Thursday the 27th we move out of our lovely metal accomodations and into the tents. Ah, tent life. It's been nice living all alone since my room mate was sent home for back surgery. Ain't no cats around my house. Three weeks in a tent here, three days in a tent in Kuwait, barracks in Ft. McCoy, and then to Fort Living Room. Yeah; I can handle that PSC move.
The pills they gave me for my cough have a strange affect on me. First, I feel slightly doped up and drowsy. The other I think is a diaretic. I'm in the middle of the freaking desert. Do I really need to get up every 45 minutes and pee? I mean, really?!
I am beginning to notice that my fond memories of home are becoming more specific. My most reuccuring memory is from when I was on leave from Ft. Lewis, back in November 2008. I flew to Sacramento to hang with my sister for my leave, to get caught up and do brother-sister stuff. I got off of the plane and headed for baggage claim. I got on the escalator to take me to the ground floor. Standing just to the right and at the bottom of the stairs, back from them about 15 feet, was my sister. Seeing her there and and then being able to hug is the best happy memory I have of this entire deployment. One strange image I can't shake is; I'm standing on the street corner in Bismarck, at the intersection of Ninth and Main, right next to the State Bank building. I'm looking over the underpass at the Civic Center. It appears to be comforting. Why? Maybe it's because I paid my student loans off a few years ago and the building doesn't bother me. Another image I have, and this one is more pleasant, is that I am sitting at the horseshoe bar at Whitey's in East Grand Forks, MN. There is a LARGE, COLD glass of what I can only assume is HoneyWeiss sitting slightly to the left of the view, a bottle of ketchup sitting slightly to the right of the view, a white linen napkin to the right and just off-center of the view, and in the middle, on a white plate, is my order of Whitey's Homemade Onion Rings. Real plates and silverware. Real Ketchup. The best part is, for me to be there, I won't be here.

Day 324

It's been a wild and crazy month at this end of world. We're about a month away from leaving and supply is just a little bit busy. We're on a 12-hour work schedule which I have yet to see. My days have been a bit longer than that by a few hours. On the bright side, I developed a virual thingy and am on quarters for 24 hours. That and a pocketful of pills, and I should feel right as rain. There is an outbreak of swine flu here, so as a precaution I had a Q-Tip swab up my nose (great fun), and luckily the test came back negative. If it had been positive, I'd be living in a tent with those stricken with swine flu, for a week. Can't say I see the downside of that. No phone, no email, no customers. Just sleep. That and all the symptoms that go with the flu. I have discovered a new smell in Iraq. It took me a while to identify its source and came as a bit of a shock when I finally made the discovery. It is a stinky, sweaty, disguisting odor that is offensive to olfactory senses. My helmet has its own odor. Helmets of old had a leather strap which rested on your head to keep it in place. These new ones have multiple pads, like a football helmet, which help to distribute the weight more evenly. The pads are held in place with velcro, and are adjustable so they can be made to be more comfortable for each persons head. They also soak up the sweat that runs off my shaved head. The chin-strap is a cloth material which also soaks up the sweat that runs off my shaved head. Add to that the dirt and sand and dust which has collected in each pore of the fabric in the last 10 months, and you one stinky hunk of kevlar. We all have one set of replacement pads, but there's no point in using them here. They'll just get as stinky before we leave. The pads don't hold up to a washing, so we're stuck with using really stinky helmets.
On a happy note, my replacement arrivs next week. We'll be in tents about the middle of next week, just waiting for our plane ride home. All of our replacements know their job, but we need to spend two weeks training them in on 'what's here and what's there and how to handle this office and who needs coffee and dognuts before they'll help you' type of things. My boss and I figure that about the 10th or so of September we'll be spending most of our time in the tent, playing cards and watching movies. I can't tell you when we're supposed to be leaving this hell-hole, but if you Google "National Talk Like A Pirate Day", that's the day. Three days in Kuwait and then five days in Ft. McCoy, and then surgery for me. For those who don't know, my Dad has had several surgeries in the last month. I'm going to ask for leave to see him before I have them cut into my kneee, so with any luck, they'll give me a week off so I can see him, and hopefully make a round-robin and say hi before they cut into me.
There's no internet in the tenst, but I will do my best to keep on posting from the MWR center. I'll be able to get emails, so don't quit emailing me.
On the bright side, in about a month I'll leave this place and never have to come back.

Day 307

Well, we are almost there. People are gretting one another with, "We leave next month." I do my best not to count down the days until departure, as it seems to make time drag by. I am enjoying my purchase of my iPod Touch. I have only a few more weeks in my room, and then it is off to a tent to make room for our replacements. There is no internet in the tent. Before we move, I'd like to download another application or two from iTunes. Does anybody have any suggestions? I have downloaded books, a good version of Gin Rummy, Cribbage, Bejeweled and most recently, Backgammon. I've got some time at night, so if anybody has any suggestions, please let me know. The iPod is great. I can't wait to get back to the land of wireless internet so I can use it better. Oh, Kevin, when I get out to the Stanley area, break out the board, as it's game-on! I've been sharpening my skills. How are yours after all these years?
If any of you still have a box or envelope to send to me, please don't. It takes some letters and most packages 5 to 6 weeks to reach me, and it's about that long until I leave natures litterbox. I'd hate to have you send something I never receive.
I saw a cat with a kitten the other day, so somebody here isn't doing their part, those selfish cat lovers. We are all concentrating on getting out of here, so there's really not all that much which is new, to say. Sandstorms suck; heat sucks; sandstorms and heat combined really suck. Although I have been fortunate in one area; in my entire time here, I have yet to see one snake, scorpion or camel spider. Lizards are everywhere as are these mangy dogs which resemble coyotes. I have seen a couple of rabbits. They've got these really long, straight ears. It appears as they're trying to pick up FM on those things.

Day 302

I don't have a TV in my room, by choice, so I don't see the news. We get the Stars and Stripes a week or so late, but I get my news from Google News. I see a headline, click a link, and then check the BBC news online to see what's really happening. Today, tanning beds were listed as the one of the top three causes of cancer to humans, along with arsenic and smoking. Tanning beds. Do you suppose they'll be groups of people with nothing better to do, trying to put lables on them? Another story caught my eye today. It's unsafe to text while driving. Wow. There's a shocker. So I did a little research. They make jamming devices for cell phones. Why not install one in each car with the switch hooked up the airbags and the shift lever? If the car is in park or if the airbag deploys, the jammer shuts off. Problem solved. Oh no, we have to leave it to the idiots who won't quit talking on their phones in the movie theater to make the right decision? We have people here, driving at 20 MPH who talk on their phones. What is so important that you can't wait the three minutes it takes to get back to your office and talk to somebody in person? How many people do I see in the supermarket talking to somebody at home while they're shopping? Have we forgotten how to make shopping lists? Ban cell phones forever! Ok, I feel better now.

Day 291

While at home and while at Ft. Lewis I asked and heard asked the same question asked, "Why are the Iraqi's placing roadside bombs and firing rockets at us?" I never had a clear answer until recently.
Think back to the 1980's and attempt to remember the movie "Red Dawn". The Russians invaded and the local kids fought back. One of their own turned on them and Patrick Swasse ended up shooting his friend. When the others of the group tried to talk him out of it, his final statement was, "...because we live here." Tying in our situation to that movie, we are the Russians and the Iraq's are the kids.
Or to think of it another way; if China decided that the American government was a threat to the rest of the world and invaded the US. If they killed the President and Vice President and everybody in the chain of succession. If they arrested and put on trial every governor. If they disbanded the Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines, Guard and Reserve. If they fired the CIA, NSA, FBI and Highway Patrol. If they fired every County and City cop in the country. If they fired every mayor of every town in America. If they redrafted the lesson plans for every school in America. And then when the Chinese said they'd be out of our country in 10 years, would you then believe them? If, as the Iraqi's did here, you knew the Chinese were going to win, you opened all of the prisons in the country and let all of the criminals out and suggested they make trouble for the invaders, would you now feel emphathy for the common citizen?
What would you do? Would you sit by, try to make the best of it, going along with them, to try to keep your car and your house? Or would you load up the RV, collect as many guns and as much ammo as you could, and head for the hills? These Iraqi insurgents are doing what many of us would do in the same situation.
I'm not trying to defend them, and I wish they'd just pack up their dangerous toys and get on with their life. I'm just trying to put a little bit of perspective on this.

Day 283

I'm not saying it's hot, but it's 7 pm and it's cooled off to 108 degrees. It topped out at 113 today. It was our last day of range duty. Hopefully I won't have to get up at 2 am for while. I took my M4 carbine and qualified. For those of you who know rifles, the rear sight of the M4 is on a spring. When you're not using the weapon, you fold down the sight so it gets out of the way. Well, my spring is broken. Every time I pulled the trigger, the rear sight would fall down. My morning went; bang, life sight; bang, lift sight; bang, lift sight, more times than I care to count. At least I qualified and now don't have to do it again until I get home. Yeah, and that shooting while in the kneeling position did wonders for my bad knee. I just aimed at the largest target on the paper and fired. Well, it went; bang, lift sight; bang, lift sight. I think I had 13 holes in the big target. Too bad they can only count the first five. My new happy thought; in my camper, all alone in a campground, surrounded by green grass and leafy trees, with a small lake in the distance. I use my new camper bread machine and use the warm, made in the camper, so it's got to be homemade bread, (right?), as my bread for french toast, cooked over an open flame, and in the same pan as the bacon. Ice cold milk, margarine, and perhaps a dusting of cinnamon to top it off. Mmmm, homemade food. If you could hear my voice, right now I sound much like Homer Simpson drooling over doughnuts.

Day 282

I am changing my motto. It is currently, "When life hands you lemons, quit your job and go to Iraq." I believe it now should be, "When life hands you lemons, grab the salt and tequila, and call a friend." Now, I'm not saying it's hot, but I just brought back from the dining facility a Frost Gatorade. Mmmm, grape! When it was in the cooler in the chow hall, it was cold. By the time I get to my room, a 5 to 7 minute walk, it was warm, working its way to hot. I'm not saying it's hot, but there are as few bugs here now as there are in North Dakota in February. I know I keep promising pictures, but whenever I try to load them, the sucky-ass slow, expensive-as-hell internet service here makes me wish notebooks weren't so frisbee-ish and light. Speaking of notebooks, I bought this Dell XPS specifically for the deployment, and it bites on the level that only cheap pieces of junk can bite. I am so looking forward to getting home and buying a real computer. I'd do it from here, but I don't want sand caked on the better one, too. I was thinking that I should go back to a HP, but since I'm going back to school, maybe I should start looking at Apple notebooks? I welcome your comments on the topic. Speaking of welcoming comments, I would like to thank my good friend Aaron Bedford for my log-off on this blog.
By the power of Castle GreySkull, I am...
Hugh Grindberg

Day 279

Range week all this week. Our unit is having a range for enlisted soldiers. The range opens at 0430 and goes until everybody is done. I had to be at the office this morning at 0330. When I got there, on time, thank you very much, it felt a little bit cool. I checked the thermometer and it was all of 87 degrees. Oh, did it feel nice and cool. You've got to start firing as soon as you can see the targets so you get done and out of the sun by the time it starts getting hot. Over here, hot is relative, so if the sun comes up about 5 or so, it gets hot about 5:30 or so. Then it gets uncomfortable by about 7 and then it's up to unbearable about by 9:30-ish. Luckily they were all back by at the office at about 0930. Oh, I wanna go, but they won't let me go, home.

Day 278

Sunday the 5th of July. Yesterday's celebration of the birth of our great nation passed by here without much fanfare. We had cake. We had a good meal. And we had no fireworks. I think this is the first 4th where I didn't want anything to go 'boom'.

Day 276

We're getting there. In double digit days unti I get out of here. We're getting there. Would somebody please tell me what I was thinking when I wanted to stay for 7 more months in this place? I don't know what I was thinking. Feel free to slap me up along side the head when you first see me. You only get one apiece. :)
That which gets me through my day; images of family and friends, familiar settings, fond rememberences of places with color. That's the day-time. The last image I conjour before falling asleep is a simple one; I'm in my camper, set up in a secluded area, all of the windows are zipped down, and through the front, I see a lake, about 100 yards away, blue water, a cloudless day, a windless day, and the lake is almost glowing with its blueness. The grass from the camper to the waters edge is manicured and green. Out the window to my left is all grass and trees. Out the window to the rear is grass, green and manicured, heavily populated with trees, and a steep hill. I'm not sure if I'm in the foothills of the mountains, or just in a place with a hill. To my right I can see grass and trees. No people. Not one. Peace, and quiet, and solitude. As much as I am looking forward to seeing everybody and quitting my job, I think I need to live in my camper for about a month. And if I can find this secluded place, so much the better.
Ok, there is one more thing I've been contemplating. Not that I've put much thought into this, so bear with me. I am looking forward to sitting in a bar. The bartender brings me a bottle of Grain Belt Premuim and a frosty mug. The mug has been sitting in the freezer for about 17 months, building up an unbeliveably thick layer of ice. I twist the cap off of the bottle, tilt the mug towards the bottle, and slowly pour the beer into the mug. I put the bottle on the bar, close the bartenders side, as it's now empty and needs a proper burial. I lift the mug to my lips, gently tilting the bottom away from my chin and in a slight upward direction. As the first drops of beer touch my tounge, pieces of ice, which have been floating at the top of the mug, rest against my upper lip. I swallow the beer; once, twice, and then once again. I lower the bottom of the mug and pull it back from my mouth. I set the mug back on the bar and use the back of my hand to wipe off my upper lip. A sound escapes my lips. It is a mixture of; one-half part satisfaction, one-half part delight and one-half part fulfillment. Yes, I know that is three halves, but that's what you get when you drink Grain Belt Premium.

Day 273

Today is the 7th month anniversary of our arrival in this place. There is no way I'll call it home. I have a room, I have an office, I have a job, I have no life. My body, on the other hand, has found a bit of comfort here. For the last ten years or so, whenever I got home, I had to pee. No matter how long it had been since the last time I went, whenever I walked in the house, I had to go. I guess it was my body's way of knowing it was home and relaxing. Well, a few weeks ago, it started here. Whenever I walk into our living area, my body relaxes and I have to go. Granted, here, I drink much more water than I do back home, but come on, there's nothing relaxing about this place. Take today. The air is as 'heavy' as it was yesterday. Dust blowing into and onto everything. Which brings me to a question. People's opinion on global reset not withstanding, the entire argument seems to hinge on particulate matter in the air. I have never seen anybody suggest that the blowing dust of the planets deserts contributes to the reset situation. Perhaps there is no issues. Mabye the dust here does not rise high enough into the atmosphere to affect global differences, but spend seven months living in this dust bowl, and you'll begin to wonder yourself.

Day 271

Today was a very cool day. The 188th is having their Annual Training this week, and I called the armory to say hi. They all sound as though they are in good spirits, and I know they lifted mine. I promised them a picture, and instead provided two. One is a shot from the roof of the building in which work. There is no filter on my lens. That's what it looks like for real. The other is a screen shot of weather underground dot com. It's where I am. Check out the temperature. Now look just under the current temperature. I've been alive most of my life, but I have never seen weather conditions posted as "heavy". I guess that's better than chunky. A look at the air conditions here today and you'll see what the weather service classifies as 'heavy'.

Day 268

You know you’ve been in Iraq too long when;

You get up in the morning with the sun, you step outside your room wearing a t-shirt, shorts and flip-flops, and it feels cold.
You get ready to go to work in the morning, step outside your room, and that burnt desert smell doesn’t bother you any more.
You get to work at 7:30, check the outdoor thermometer, it reads 90 degrees, and it feels nice.
You stand in the shade at 4 in the afternoon, it’s 109 degrees, you’re not sweating and you say to yourself, “It’s not a bad day.”
One of those little lizards runs across your boot and you don’t flinch.
You ride in a civilian pickup with the air conditioner on, the radio off, and you notice the quiet.
More than 50% of the conversations revolve around food. Not just the food from the good restaurants, but it’s more the really good, home cooked favorites.
You volunteer to stay with another unit.
You walk into an outhouse, it’s clean, and you’re excited.
You can drink 7 2-liter bottles of water in a day, and not think anything of it.
You drink 7 2-liter bottles of water in a day, and only have to pee twice.

Day 267

Well, I'm coming home as originally planned. Various factors in my life, and my future, made me re-think remaining in Iraq with the Band. Yes, it would have been great. Yes, it would have been fun. Thing is, I'm fried. Completely numb from the neck up. For those of you who do not know, performing music, at a level people will want to listen to, takes a certain level of concentration. When my brain has been focused on endless days of mind numbing paperwork, my performance skills are not what they should be. It would have been about a month of a paperworkless, or paperworthless, life just be up to par. That's not fair to them. Plus, the fun has gone out of this trip. I need to come home. Word of advice; if you ever deploy to a combat zone, and if they offer leave, take it. Get out of here. See some sense of life outside of the desert, or a German hospital. Even if you don't go home, enjoy Europe.
On the note 'the world is too small', I have a tale. I was speaking to my sister the other day, and she asked me if LTC Kelley was a man or a woman. I told her that LTC Kelley is a woman, and then I asked how she knew the name. Her church collected school supplies and sent them to an organization which ships school supplies to Iraq. A few months after they shipped the supplies, they received a thank you note from LTC Kelley, where she listed her address as 287th SB, Tallil, Iraq. On the obverse was a photograph of the Ziggurat of Ur. My sister then took time out of her busy schedule to let me know she is finally happy to know what the zig looks like, since I haven't yet sent her any pictures. What's the hurry? I've only been here, for, oh yeah, just under 7 months. Ok, pictures it is. I'll try to figure out how to post pictures online and let you all see what I see.

Day 264

Due to the rules of security, there are things which I cannot discuss here, and rightly so. There are also things which I should not discuss here, and rightly so. I would however like to tell you the story of a person I know. He possesses exceptional good looks, especially since he shaved his head. He has been known to bring to almost any conservation a certain amount of wit, tempered with just the right amount of sarcasm. His insights into the daily behavior of those around him astounds many. His level-headedness and ability to see past the veil is a model for many. And to top it all off, his modesty is not false. I strive to be more like him every day. But I digress. Let me tell you a tale of this humble, folksy man, whose only goal in life is the betterment of others.
You know, I got nothin'. Writing the opening to this used all of the adjectives and adverbs, and they pushed all other thoughts right out of my head. I do have an interesting tale about someone not quite as interesting; me. Last week while on COB Adder for a show, my good friend Craig Brenden, a past member of the 188th Army Band, extended an invitation, at the request of his commander, to join the 34th ID Band when my tour here ends. After a few emotionally filled hours of contemplation, I decided it was the best thing for me, and I accepted. There is lots of paperwork to do, and it is not a for-sure thing yet, but I am hopeful. It would add only about 4-1/2 months to my tour. The money will be good. I would get to the next level of the GI Bill, adding 10% more to my alotment. After the knee surgery, I'll be back in North Dakota in March-ish time frame, just in time to quit my job and spend the summer bumming around the States with my new camper. Maybe I should follow the historical Route 66? Maybe I should have a Philly Steak Sandwich in Philadelphia? How about deep dish pizza in Chicago? How about the New Orleans Jazz Festival in May? How about following Jimmy Buffet around the country for the summer? When is the Burning Man weekend? How about watching a baseball game in every outdoor Major League park in the country, in person and not on TV? Does anybody know; do they offer tours of the Grain Belt Beer plant? Too bad I hate seafood, or I'd use the euphemism "the world is my oyster", but I do, so I won't.

Day 258

I need some information from a climatologist or a meterologist about rain in the desert. Yesterday, or the day before, I was outside, playing volleyball with the rest of HHC. Prior to the start of the 'sweating in the sand pit' event, I looked at the current weather on the internet. It was 117 degrees and 6 percent humidity. Half an hour later, with the sun still shining, rain drops the size of puffy Cheetos began pelting us. How hard is it raining a 1,000 or so feet above us for the rain to to able to make it to the ground? Or, back home in the prairie, in comparison, how hard would it have been raining, given the conditions here versus there? I mean, really, there was silly rain for about three minutes, it quit, and all was dry less than ten minutes later. It had to have been raining something fierce just under those clouds. On a lighter note, I finally bumped into the last of the North Dakota boys from the Minnesota Band. Tim Johnson was here on Memorial Day; Aaron Bedford was here last week; Josh Christanson and his rock band played last night; Craig Brenden's flight to points further north was cancelled so he had to stay on post for two days. Lots of catching up with all of the guys. Their internet service where they are sucks, so if you have not heard from any of them in a while, do not dispair, for they are well, in good spirits, and living large.

Day 253

I suppose when a person is raised in an area with harshly defined seasons, we come to expect certain things from the sun. Whenever I think of a sunny summers day, my minds eye conjours the images from the original Fantasia. The segment of music was Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony and the screen is filled with images of an idyllic mythological land, full of flying horses and minor pagan deities. I have always pictured the sun as the benevolent giver of life, its rays bringing life to the planet. It has caused an unknown multitude of the nations' workers to call in sick, or call in well, and spend the day out of doors, either fishing or camping or boating or, best of all, doing nothing, hence the invention of the hammock. Then I got here. I think the sun has a cruel sense of humor on the other side of the planet. There is nothing life giving about this big old ball of burning gas. People here do not call in sick on a sunny day. In fact, they go to work, where there is better air conditioning. If you truly think there is nowhere lower to go in your life, come here and stand in the sun on a day then it gets to 115 degrees. Oh, trust me, you can't do it for more than a few minutes. All of you other problems in life will pale by comparison. How fast can you move from one building to the next without breaking any speeding laws? How quickly and forcefully can you contract certain bodily muscles in an effort to speed your time in the port-a-john? How important, really, is it to go and visit your soldier in the next building? Wouldn't it just be easier to call, or send an email? I say we borrow a page from the Scottish Army and start wearing kilts. Hell, at this point, I'd have no problem calling them man-dresses. At least there'd be air moving in my nether regions. But what air it is. You're hot; you're sweaty; and then the wind kicks up, moving around all of the sand and dust, which now sticks to your sticky body. Maybe a kilt wouldn't be such a good idea after all. There are some places that much dust shouldn't gather.

Day 249 - Benchmark 5

I have finished reading my favorite book; Dune, by Frank Herbert. It may seem a small thing to others, but as you can tell by the title of my blog, and by my blog address, it is not so to me. The copy of Dune I have with me is the first copy I purchased while attending UND in the 1980's. I have read this particular copy of Dune, and no other, on the North American, European, Australian, and now Asian continents. As I doubt I'll ever visit the Antartic, that leaves only two more continents to go. The edges of the paper are yellowing and many pages have pulled free of the binding. So that I do not lose my place, I have dog-earred the page where I've stopped reading, when I set the book down for a brief respite from the words of Frank Herbert. This particular copy of Dune, I have read, oh, somewhere between 18 and 25 times. The number of pages with the creases of past dog-earring is, while not begin countless, numbers higher than I care to count. Of the 17 books of the Dune universe, this is my favorite. In my minds eye I have conjoured the images of the Fremen riding the giant worms of Arrakis. I have seen the loathsome Harkkonen commit one heinous act after another. I have witnessed the entourage which constantly surrounds Paul and his father, Leto, giving all of themselves out of a sense of loyality and duty. I have seen the indifferent and ineffective Emperor unable to change the course of events which he himself set into motion. This may be a bit of a stretch, however I have to make my own parallel with Paul. I harbour no messiah complex, but on a smaller, more human scale, I have, and am, set in the desert, to emerge, after trials and tribulations, into an entirely new life. At least I don't have to worry about running the Empire of a Million Worlds. I can barely manage my own.

Day 249

I have a story for you which I can't tell on the blog. For those of you who have been here, you'll find the story incredible. For those of you who are or have been in uniform, you'll shake your head and wonder at the state of things. For those of you who have never worn the uniform of the military services of the United States, you might find it mildly amusing. To trigger this story, you'll need to adopt a slow, southern drawl, and in a voice which will require you to suck out sixty IQ points, say to me, "You see, what had happened was,...". Upon hearing that, you'll get the story. And you'll want to hear it, trust me.
My date of departure from this little slice of heaven has been moved back by about a week. Tomorrow would have been my '100 days remaining', but now it's not. Oh well. More money for me.

Day 243

I'm sure I've mentioned it in previous posts, but if not, I play the piano in church each Sunday afternoon. Today, in church, the chaplain was chiding us to ensure we kept in touch with our loved ones back home. He didn't go into specific detail, but he did say that many people here are not calling or writing home that are causing maritial problems. I have been as guilty as those with spouses with my lack of communication. I'm not trying to make excuses for my lack of contact, but I think I have an excuse. The time here is flying by. I find it hard to believe that tomorrow is June. I have only 3-1/2 months until I'm out of this camel spider, lizard infested sand hole. To me it appears that I am almost done. We're almost at double digits on days remaining. From my point of view, I am almost home. Perhaps others think the same way, foregetting we still have more than 100 days remaining. If I have brought any discomfort to anyone, if I have caused, through my lack of communication, pain, if I have made somebody say, "What have I done to make him angry enough to ignore me", I am truly sorry. However, I have shut off the Skype and will spend the rest of this day watching movies and washing my clothes, so don't expect any phone calls within the next few hours, but I do hope to be better at my oral communication skills.

Day 242

Not much new on this side of the planet. It's still hot and dusty. It is so hot I actually saw a bird burst into flames today as it was flying by my office. I think a combination of the heat and the energy it was expending to remain aloft combined in a rare form of spontanous combustion. You see, this is why I feel it is unsafe to engage in physical activity in this country. A theory not held by the First Sergeant. I had a fun day earlier this week when Tim Johnson paid me a visit. Tim used to drill with us in the 188th Army Band in Fargo before he joined the ranks of the quitters. He accompanied a bugle player from the 34th ID Band for a performance at a Memorial Day Ceremony here. I drove them around post so they could make contact with the units' to line up jobs. It sounded as though they had many productive meetings. Can't wait to see the other North Dakota guys. The internet connection where those guys are is a bit limited, so if you don't hear from them, fret not, as they are all doing ok. Aaron should be here some time this coming week. I haven't seen Tim in two or three years, we live about a five hour drive from each other, and we had to travel over 7,000 miles from home to see each other face to face.

Day 235

Day 234

Gold Bond Powder is tingly!

Day 233

Never again will I complain about the heat of a North Dakota summer. The heat here is actually painful. To get an idea of how hot it is, imagine opening the oven door to check the roast. I'm sure most of you had to do this because the bulb had burned out. I had to do this because I never cleaned the oven window. That blast of heat hits you in the face and an automatic recoil moves you back a bit to escape the brunt of the heat. Now, apply that feeling to your entire body. But here, there is no way to escape, no where to run. Recoil all you want, but it won't do any good. Actually it makes it worse, as you're moving, making the sweat roll faster. Other people have said it feels as though the heat of a blow dryer is blowing in your face, all the time, over your entire body. I stand outside, in the shade, and it is so hot my ears hurt. I climbed on the roof of my office today and it was so much hotter up there that my eyes started to water. We have small birds everywhere here, either finchs or starlings. It is so hot here every bird you see is actually panting. (Of this, I am not kidding.) If they had long tongues like dogs, I'm sure they'd be hanging out of their mouths. I have been getting to work at about 0630, and it is about 85 degrees already. It's hitting temperatures around 120. And it's supposed to be in the 140's soon. They do not allow fresh eggs here, so I can't fry one on the sidewalk, but if there are any other experiements anyone would like to attempt in this heat, let me know.
When I ponder the great inventions of the 20th century, I always thought of things like landing on the moon, cell phones, the internet and breast implants, but nothing beats the invention of the air conditioner. When I get home and can have a beer again, that un-named inventor will get a silent toast and a word of thanks from me. (I'd toast with water, but it just seems tacky.)
On a non-whiney note, I have been in contact with advisors and instructors at UND about my return. I didn't realize how pumped up I was about my return until I read an email I had already sent to an advisor at UND. Please allow me to 'cut and paste' a portion of that email for you.
"I've been racking my brain over the last few days and I do not remember ever consulting with an advisor in the four years I attend UND in the 1980's. I want to ensure this time that my path to success is paved with the cobblestones of ensconced wisdom and not littered with the gravel of ignorance and indecisiveness."
I'll be the first to admit that I laid it on just a little thick. But you've got to admit, it's a cool sentence.
And then the reply I received confused me. The advisor suggested four classes. Four classes? That can't be right. Back in the day when I was a music major I had to take eleven classes to get twelve credits. Then I remembered that each band is classified by the U as a lab and is therefore worth only one credit. Never mind the fact that each band meets four or five days a week all semester, we still only get one credit. So if I only take four classes a semester, what am I supposed to do with all that extra time. Study or something?

Day 231 - Benchmark 4

In starting all of this, whatever this is, I never intended to have this as a benchmark, however when I received a notification email earlier this evening, I shed more than one tear of joy. I was informed in the email that my application for readmittance into UND was approved and I will begin classes as a full time student beginning January 2010. I didn't know how big a deal this was to me until I read those words. Getting back into school makes this silly-ass adventure of mine worth it; all of it. Now all I have to do is get home. I got hold of my Dad today. He is going to meet me at Ft. McCoy at the tail end of our de-mob. If I end up getting sent to Fort What-cha-ma-call-it for an extended stay for surgery and rehab, it will be some time before I can get back to North Dakota. If they release me to North Dakota for the surgery and rehab, we can have a nice ten-hour catch-up on the ride back. Plus the camper I am buying is kind of on the way back, so we can stop and pick it up. Oh Happy Day! I love my people. I am their sovereign. Pull!

Day 230

Those of you who know me are aware of the fact that my mind works in strange and mysterious ways. I read a question today in the blog of Matt Black that has me thinking; where did Yoda dissapear to? Well, where did he go? The setting for Star Wars was a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, so obvioulsy there is no religon we would know, such as Buddaism, or Christianity, or Islam. The main office of the Jedi was constantly referred to as the "Jedi Temple". Was the word temple meant to be as we think of it, as a place of worship? Or does its title have different meaning? Why did he and Obi Wan simply dissapear, when none of the other Jedi dissapared when Senator Palpatine ordered the execution of the Jedi as he and Vader were establishing the Empire? Both Yoda and Obi Wan appeared to be at peace when they dissapared, yet after Vader killed the Emperor and was with Luke Skywalker at the end of his life, he did not dissapear, yet he said he was saved and appeared to be at peace. Luke set his body upon a pyre. Yet at the party with the Ewoks, Obi Wan, Yoda and Anikin all appeared as beings of energy. Without dissapearing, did Anikin end up in the same place as the others, or was he just visiting? Is there only one heaven, or is one shared by beings from different galaxies? Will we, upon our entry into the next life, see only those of us from earth, or will we see others? And how about the clone war. When those guys die, will there be millions of them who all look alike walking around? If you have a conversation with one of them today, how will you know which clone to speak with tomorrow, to continue the conversation? Perhaps they don't enter a normal afterlife. The story told of a galaxy far, far away is full of epic, mythic themes, so perhaps our fighting, warrior-like Jedi end up in Elysium. They may have their own little corner of the afterlife where none but those who die a soldiers death may enter. It's all so confusing. Good thing I don't dwell on this sort of stuff.

Day 229

To post this thought or not? That is the question. 'Tis it nobler to keep ones mouth shut and be safe, or to post a comment which may burn any last bridges which may have existed? To hell with it; post away. Back in 1997, some time around April, I took a week's vacation from work at the North Dakota Military Academy. By day three of the break I had a vivid dream. Upon waking I said to myself, "Cool dream. I haven't dreamed like that since,..since,..well, since the last time I took a week's break from work." I wiped the tears from my eyes and shortly thereafter began looking for employment elsewhere. The primary reason I left the Military Academy for other work; they stole my dreams. About a year ago I spoke with a mentor of mine who, after listening to me complain about not being able to make a difference in my job, made the suggestion that I quit. Honestly, until he said it, the thought had not entered my mind. One thing lead to another and I find myself here, and upon my return, if UND will allow, I shall re-enroll into school, get a degree, followed by a real job. Fast forward to 2009. In the past few days it has seemed to me that my mojo is returning. The funny thing is, I didn't know I'd lost it. And maybe I didn't lose it. Perhaps it was only buried, deep, deep, deep within what was left of my trodden-upon psyche. That's the problem with having your mojo chipped away, one small piece at a time; you don't notice it until it is all gone, or so buried you can't find it. Seven years of working in a dead-end job, being told by one supervisor and then another that I was performing my job incorrectly. I would open the Army regulation and show them I was following the regs to the letter, only to be dismissed as a trouble maker. It seemed as though everybody else knew I was doing my job incorrectly, but had no input on how to do it correctly. On and on this went, for seven years, slowly erroding my will to be an independent thinker and have the ability to make decisions for myself. Woe betide the employee who will not roll over and play nice. Which, of course, is what was wanted from them. There was no conspiracy between them. All they want, or any supervisor wants, is a nice, quiet day. They don't want people rocking the boat. (All boats rock; show me a smooth running operation and I'll show you an operation that's hiding something) They want peace and quiet and a paycheck. (And coffee) So, bit by bit, over seven years, I was slowly beat down and gradually dismissed. The job I had; loved it. I enjoyed being 'the guy' people came to, to get their food. I enjoyed being 'the guy' who fixed their problems. I derived satisfaction from knowing I helped somebody through their crisis. More than once since this deployment began I have told several somebody's that I had my fire, or oomph, beat out of me. But now, I think I'm getting my fire, and my mojo, back. I feel spunky. I feel like I'm making a difference. I am a squad leader of soldiers on a combat zone. (That wakes you up in a hurry.) I am the NCOIC of the PAR Team. (19 of us) I am the assistant supply sergeant for a unit, as of this morning, of 374 soldiers. (No pressure there at all) I am making a difference for the first time in a whole lot of years. I no longer feel beaten down. Come on world, bring me your problems. I will no longer stumble into the world with my head lowered. I shall face them, head held high, open wide open, ready to embrace all of the issues. No longer will I allow the will of the oppressor (supervisor) be turn me against mysef, if only to make their life easier. Will I stumble? Yes. Will I trip? Yes. Will I screw up? Yes. But I'll do it with my eyes open wide, driving forward. On the worse days there will be a Hughie shaped hole in the door. Bring it on! I'm over here! If anybody thinks I will ever return to my goverment job, they are sorely mistaken. That job may not have stolen my actual dreams, but just as bad, or not even worse, it stole my life's dreams. Stumbling from a do-nothing life to a can't-to-anything job and back again is no way to live. Not that I was living; I was existing. Piss poor way to get through life. By the way, over here, I dream almost every night.

Day 226

I don't know where these people learned how to drive, but their instructors should be strung up by their thumbs over a smoking pit of ten-day old garbage while being forced to listen to country music. I'm sure you've all seen video of local Iraqi's driving down the highway. If not, find a video on YouTube. It's scary. I am a what is called a Fobbit; one who never leaves the FOB, or post. I don't have to put up with the locals driving habits. Those of the American soldier, and civilian contractor, here on the FOB, are enough to give me nightmares. Maybe it is because they all know how poor a driver they are that they do not trust anybody else. People pulling right out in front of you because they looked right, but not left; driving the wrong way on a street, because it's closer; not understanding who has the right of way at a four-way intersection, when we all have stop signs. Hey! When it's your turn to move through the intersection, go! Don't sit there waiting for me just because you never learned when it was your turn. That's right; wave eight or nine other vehicles through. Never mind the five or six vehicles behind you, waiting, not so patiently, so they can travel to their destination. The geniuses of one unit here decided that when driving over a berm, with an extremely top heavy vehicle, the vehicle should be turned so it is at a 45 to 60 degree angle to the berm. Why did they have more than a half dozen roll-overs in a week? They couldn't figure it out. Somebody had to travel with them for a few days to pin-point the problem. Now that they are tackling the berm straight on, there are no roll-overs. I propose a new rule; nobody is allowed behind the wheel of a vehicle if their ACT score is in the single digits. (Is it digits or digit if there is only one?) Maybe this would be better; nobody is allowed behind the wheel of a vehicle until their ACT score climbs out of the single digits? Nope, we're back to digits again. I have it now; nobody is allowed behind the wheel of a vehicle if their ACT score falls below double digits. Ah, I get to use digits and it's even correct, and I don't have to worry about the singularization issue. What was I saying? Oh yeah, drivers. One day soon I will have somebody take a picture of me on each of the two vehicles in my section to post here. On Camp Grafton I drove an electric gator year round and here I sometimes drive a gasoline powered gator. Our other vehicle is a hummer which is not allowed on the roads, outside of the gate. It is a soft top with no doors or air conditioner or additional armor. At least it means we don't have to walk. 124 days left, but who is counting? Me!

Day 222

For those of you who do not know, my trip to Germany in March produced a MRI which showed that I need to have surgery on my knee. Due to certain restrictions during the recovery and rehab process, it is deployment ending surgery. The doc told me that since I've messed up my knee as much as possible, I can wait until my tour is compete and have the surgery upon my return to the United States. For those of you who provided me with your advice, thank you. I really want two things; to get out of here and to get on with my life. I need to be on orders for a year and a day to qualify for 60% of the new GI Bill, so I need to wait until my tour comes to its natural completion. If I leave too early, and get less than a year and a day, I'll receive 50% of the new GI bill, and that extra 10% will make a big difference over 4 years. So, here I sit, waiting for another 128 days so I can leave. I've decided to have the Army do the surgery and keep me on orders until I am medically cleared. I was a bit concerned over this option. My room mate's brother was here on an earlier tour and needed surgery upon his return. It's been a year since his surgery and he is still on a medical hold. We have a soldier who left here in February for surgery on his arm, and he is still waiting for the surgery to take place. Upon further questioning of my room mate, I've learned that his brother was shipped home for both the surgery and the recovery. At my screening at demob station, it is my intention to beg, plead and, yes, even cry if necessary, to have the surgery done in Minot at the Air Base and also do the rehab there. Even if I can't get in my car and drive all over the U.S. when I get back, at least the Army can pay to fix my knee and keep me on Army orders, and Army pay, until I'm cleared. And even if I am on orders and can't start school full time in January as I had originally planned, it gives me an excuse to spend the spring and entire summer pulling my camper all over the States. I'll have an extra month, or several months, or several extra months of pay to spend, so why not enjoy it? Baseball in outdoor stadiums; jazz festivals; Disneyworld; Disneyland; camping the Florida Keys; deep dish pizza in Chicago; a philly steak sandwich in Philadelphia; being a dead-head and follow Jimmy Buffet around the country for a month; spending four weeks touring the entire Smithsonian in Washington, D.C.; camping in every national park in the lower 48 states; having an ice cold beer on Bourbon Street in New Orleans; maybe even fly to Europe and spend time as a tourist. I'm already old as hell, and starting my life over again is a bit silly now, so what's another few months, if need be? And if I have complications and I'm on orders an additional 4-1/2 months, with my acculimated leave, I'd hit the 18 month mark, which means I'd qualify for 70% of the GI Bill. But with my luck, I'll be on orders an additional 28 days or something like that, and come home about Halloween. It is what it is, and in this case, it is what it will be. In case you're wondering how it is, the eight of us in the HHC section are all ready to go home, now. The fun of this deployment has run out. I am the only one in HHC not of the Kansas Guard. To my knowledge, there is not ONE of us who will remain in this unit upon our return. I know I've whined in past posts, but it's beyond that now. We're at the point where we expect to be treated like dirt by everybody else. If I didn't need that GI Bill money, my knee would have a sudden and painful flare-up tomorrow morning. Oh well, it is what it is, and whining won't fix stupid. At least, it hasn't yet. :)

Day 216

I've found a new technique for making it seem as though time actually passes. I'm not sure there is such a thing as the 21st century outside of the US and European zone. Anywho, the passage of time seemed to move faster when I started thinking of my remaining time as four and a half months. And then in two weeks I can say 4 months, and so on. I never thought that four and a half months would seem like a short time. Speaking of time, I had an interesting email the other day from the admissions office of the University of North Dakota. It seems as though they want me to appear before a panel to explain why they should allow me entrance back into UND. This hardly seems fair, as nobody bothered to invite me to a board when they kicked me out 21 years ago. I replied to them that I had a bit of a problem making it to the board on their time frame. Once they knew I was a bit further away than Whitey's, they said I didn't have to be there. They did send me a form to fill out for their review to see if they should allow me back in. What should I put in the form they sent me to convince them to allow me back in? Let me think. Oh yeah, how about, "I'm 21 years older and the government will be paying all of my fees, plus my living expenses." The panel meets on the 14th of May. After that I'll receive an email with their decision. I'll let you know how it turns out. Only 4-1/2 months to go!

Day 214

The pneumonia is gone and so, it appears, is my malaise. Thoughts of the future, getting home to see family and friends, are a boost to the spirit, and about the only way to make it to the next day. We had an interesting event earlier tonight. My immediate supervisor, Charles Craig, and his wife, Monica Craig, both here with the 287th, renewed their wedding vows. The ceremony was on the roof of the Chaplain's office with the Ziggurat of Ur in the distance and about 50 people in attendance. (I knew that everybody in attendance had to be in the Army; they were all there 5 minutes early). They asked me to play for their ceremony, and in honor of their friendship I think I did an ok job. Had I known they were going to march down the isle, rather than glide, I would not have had to learn so much of each song. A short phrase of each tune would have been more than enough. As it was, Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring, of which I figured the final twelve measures would be enough, ended up being shortened, on the spot, by the four measure I skipped. (and still got looks from people that I needed to stop) The Trumpet Voluntary, final eight measures, went, while not quite at circus tempo, moved faster than the composer intended, I'm sure. It was a neat ceremony. Monica received special permission from the Brigade Commander to wear a civilian dress for the ceremony, and only in the building, or as was this ceremony, on top of the building. As the sun was setting behind the ever present wall of dust, the temperature in the mid 80's, birds of Iraq chirping in the nearby trees, with 50 people in attendence, on the second of May, it was like a cry to break the bonds of winter and to finally allow spring into the world. Granted our winter was in the 60's and 70's every day, but I believe the metaphor is apt. While not really listening to the ceremony, I looked over the heads of the crowd, past the Chaplain, past the Craigs, past the post, and looked at the Zig. Historial and biblical records show that Abram, to become Abraham, lived there. One of the earliest figures of the bible, post flood, lived two miles from where we were, while two people, deeply in love, renewed their wedding vows in front of the people they care about. Talk about a circle of life. If that's not a metaphor for spring, I don't know what is. Only 136 days left, but who's counting?

Day 212

Here I sit, in my room, with about twenty hours remaining of my convalescing. It no longer hurts to take in a breath and my nose started leaking late last night, so maybe antibotics do work after all. If there were beer here I'd buy my room mate lots for having to put up with this. I just returned from the necessary, wiping my nose on my open palm, and perhaps touching my plugged-up nose made me think of it, even though I can't breathe very well at the moment, it dawned on me that I was going to miss the blossoming of the lilacs this year. It happens with such regularity at home, once a year, if I remember correctly, that we tend not to even think about it. As much as I like them, too may lilacs are annoying. How many times have we driven down a North Dakota highway in May, windows rolled down, good jazz on the radio, cold bottled lemonade in the drink cup, enjoying a, if not the first, warm sunny day of spring. There's hardly a breath of wind. The leaves are as still as the pond is mirrored. The car takes us past a farmstead, built close to the road. As we approach, we notice that whoever had planted the lilac bushes had done so in such a way that there was a pattern to the colors; purple, yellow, and then white, repeated all around the yard. There's not enough of a wind to move the air, so when you pass by that farmyard it's like driving into a wall of honey, with double sugar, which you kept in the fridge, making it extra think. That's too much lilac for me. That same farmyard, on a different day, when the wind is blowing five or ten miles an hour, with just enough oomph to move the bulk of the smell out of the way; that's the smell I'll miss.

Day 210

what? What? WHAT? Why can't I ever just have a simple medical problem? I have an allergic reaction to the smallpox shot. Do I get hives? No; I get pericartitus. I have knee pain. Is it a simple twist which will be better in two weeks? No; I have to get surgery at the end of this deployment. Today, I don't feel all that well. Taking in a deep breath hurts. So I go to sick call. Do I have a simple cold? No; I have pneumonia. I just started 72 hours of rest in my room. Of course I have to wait for the severe pain from that antibotics shot to wear off, or at least subside a bit. The way my luck is running, I think the next time I'll have any chance of luck of winning when I buy a lottery ticket will be 2025. Pardon my rant but WTF, over.

Day 209

It's coming to head here. Imigaine if you will, every stupid person with whom you've ever worked. Every idiot who 'knew more than you' because they were the supervisor or boss. Take all the people who are allowed to stay at their desk through close knit political ties to the system. Now, group all of those people together, promote them by one step, and put them in leadership positions. With very few exeptions, this is how my battalion and brigade personnel are flushing out. Today some of those people tried to throw my boss under the bus. But because he's smarter than any of them, they failed. Not that they didn't try, but we spent most of the day not proving ourselves right, as much as proving them wrong. Personnel are demanding college level writing on sworn statements and sending them back down when there's a misplaced comma. These documents are to be written in the soldiers own words, not theirs. A mucky-muck today told me that we don't need page two of the document, that page one and three is all I needed. I said, no, we needed all three. He said we didn't. I showed him in the reg we needed all three. He told me the regulation was wrong and that he was right. We, the 287th, are causing all of our own problems. This deployment can't end soon enough. The days are long. I have my wedding to plan, my wife to kill, and Guilder to blame for it. Well, I should get some rest. You have nothing if you don't have your health.

Day 207

You know when it's time to go home when you pass by a thermometer hanging on the outside of your office, it reads 94 degrees F, and you say, "Oh, only 94? It feels kinda cool today." Our blood is going to be so thinned out by the time I get home that 60 degrees will freeze my butt. Speaking of my butt, I have thought of a way to make my tour more comfortable, but I don't think there is a way I can actually do it here. If I'd planned ahead and brought it with me, I'd be happier. To make this tour more comfortable, I need injections of botox, in my butt. I was checking it out online, and botox causes pores to close. When the pores are closed the sweat won't come out. When the sweat doesn't come out, my butt won't get sticky. When my butt is no longer sweaty and sticky, my underware won't stick to my butt. Problem solved. Maybe I should go to sick call on Monday and see if they can provide this service to me? The Army is providing most other services to us, maybe they'll also provide this service. Or maybe not. Oh well, at least I tried.

Day 206

This morning I realized that no matter what I think my motivation needs to be to get through this, it all boils down to this; the means do justify the end. I found myself repeating that for several minutes this morning on the way to work. I was on a shuttle bus, from which our driver decided to stop and talk to the driver of another bus. Never mind the fact we all are trying to get to work on time. Never mind the fact that the drivers are here to drive, not to visit. As the rest of us were suggesting that the driver end his conversation and return to his assigned route, a young soldier turned to me and started talking. Now, I'm not going to try to pull a Mark Twain and try to spell the words to give you an idea of the accent. I'm sure you've all heard the accent, or something like it. It wasn't exactly southern. It wasn't exactly illiterate. It wasn't exactly hillbilly. It didn't seem as though he took the short bus to school, back in the day. It was as if he was a quarter step off middle C, if you know what I mean. And he was missing more than one tooth, right in the front. His eyes weren't open all the way, and I think there was a thin line of drool leaking from the right side of his mouth. He spoke really slowly. He said, "People on this bus are getting angry. I'm not an angry person. Until I'm in my truck back home. People don't like to see me coming down the road. They get out of my way." (He then proceeded to speak truck and lost me for a minute.) And then he finished telling me about the paint job. I need out of here. (The means do justify the end; the means do justify the end). All of my bills are paid, I qualify for the new GI Bill, and I found the camper I want. Yes; the means do justify the end, at least this time.

Day 205

With my intermitent internet connection it's difficult to stay on top of the North Dakota flooding. I hope everybody is safe and that everybody's families are safe. Good Luck.

Day 204 - Benchmark 3

It's final. There is no doubt. There can be no question. All facts point to one truth. As of about 1-1/2 hours ago I became debt free. I knew I'd be happy, but I can't describe the overwhelming joy of being debt free. On the day my orders started I sold the house and paid off the mortgage. I used the profit and paid off the car. I spent some cash and bought stuff I needed and more stuff I didn't. Over the course of the deployment I saved up and paid off the bills, one at a time. All money I make from here on out is mine, mine, mine. Oh, don't worry, in my head I've spent almost half of it; new camper (check out the 6.0 at www.livinlite.com); a used small sailboat; a new computer (after a year in the desert this one won't last much longer); a dog. Now I just need to get back to the States and live my life.

Day 203

I finally made it out of Qatar and back into Iraq. I'm safe and sound, or as safe as one can get in a combat zone, in my CHU, waiting for my laundry to dry so I can get to sleep. I tell you, it was an adventure getting out of Qatar. Sunday we tried to leave, only to have our flight cancelled. We should have known that our group was the 'rehearsal' group. Tuesday at 1100 we had our departure briefing and then departed, for the airport. We'd done this part on Monday so we only had to get there once today. We got to the terminal at 1200-ish. Our flight left at 4:30. At about 4:10 we were hearded out to the tarmac to get on the C-130 only to be told that it wasn't our C-130. Back into the holding area. Another rehearsal. Our plane finally arrived and we walked out to the plane, got on, and flew away. Not to Tallil. Oh no, first we had to rehearse some more. Our first stop was Kirkuk, Iraq. Check out it's location on a map some time. Not allowed off of the plane as 6 people got off the plane and about 35 got on. We took off and flew south to Kuwait. This time we got off while they refueled. So, we've had two landing rehearsals and one deplaning rehearsal, so now it must be time to do the show. Back on the plane from Kuwait and the next stop, Tallil. Yes! All of the rehearsals paid off. We've done it. It took me 1-1/2 hours to fly from Tallil to Qatar and it took me 7-1/2 hours to fly back. Too bad I can't get frequent flyer mileage for this. Now that I'm back, 10 days into my 4 day pass, I've been told that there is no way I'm ever leaving here for the rest of the deployment. I had 10 days in Germany and 10 days in Qatar, and I've not been charged a day of leave for any of it. I love that tax-free check. Make sure all of you pay your taxes on time so I keep getting my paycheck.

Day 201

Last night at 9 pm the flight board told me that I was going to leave Qatar today, and like a fool, I believed the board. I got up at 6, did my morning thing, packed, dressed, turned in my bedding, and made it to the outgoing briefing at 0730. The bus left for the airport at about 0800. We got to the airport, de-bussed, and hung around the passengar terminal for about 15 minutes. Then, one of the LNO's, the marine one, started reading off names. I was one of the names he read. All of us whose names were called were told that our flight was cancelled and we had to return to the R&R center. So, we walked back to the bus and got comfortable. 5 minutes later we were told that we'd have to go back through customs and we had to get off of the bus and bring all of our gear. So, back off the bus and back to the terminal. But wait, we'd gone too far. We needed to go back one building and wait there. After about 5 minutes we were told that we didn't need to go through customs and that we needed to get back on the bus. As we were heading for the bus we were told that we in fact needed to go through customs. Rather than continud to be treated as taffy in a government pull, at this point we were all shuttled off to a holding tent where we sat for 15 minutes waiting on word. Turns out, we all had to go back through customs, which meant we had to walk around the customs building, to get to the front, and go through the metal detectors and have all of our stuff run through the x-ray machine. Then, back on the bus and back to here. I'll find out tonight at 9 when and if I have a flight. This is a very formal country; the dress of men and women and the behaviours they expect out of others. The monetary fine is larger for spitting on the sidewalk than it is to get caught driving 100 miles an hour over the posted speed limit. As such, any cursing inside the customs building is grounds for immediate deportation, to a country of their choosing. And since the customs officials are all from Pakistan, who knows where we would have ended up. (Black hole of Calcutta scare you just a little bit?) It was this alone which kept our sojourn through customs the quietest this group has been since our arrival. So, for lunch today I had a rare cheeseburger at Chili's and some ice cold lemonade. Now I'm just killing time until 2100 hours. For those of you keeping score, this is my Day 8, actually the 9th day, in Qatar. Not bad for a 4 day pass.

Day 200

Only 150 days left until our TOA ceremony, and I'm still stuck in Qatar. I am on Day 8 of my 4 day pass. The other day, when we were out in Doha, we made an unscheduled stop after lunch. Our guide said it was going to be a suprise, and it was. We made a right at an intersection and the bus pulled into the center lane and stopped. We looked to our left and there it was. I'm not making this up in any way. If I had only taken a picture as proof, it'd have concrete evidence, but really, how could I make his up? We were looking at a business sign which read, in English, and I guess Arabic, "Taliban Tailors". Not kidding; big as life.

Day 199 - later

Yep, you guessed it, still stuck in Qatar. The other day I took a city tour. For a short time we were at the ancient market of Doha, dating all the way back to at least the 1930's. We had an hour and a half to kill, and after walking around for an hour, not being able to leave for at least another half, I got some Baskin Robbins Ice Cream and sat on a street corner, watching all the ladies in Burkkas walk by. Not something I thought I'd ever do, but when in Doha,...Due to cultural differences, we Americans are all stongly encouraged not to stare at, and certainly not to take photographs of, women in Burkkas. However, with nothing better to do while eating my ice cream, I got to wondering; what do women wear underneath their Burkkas? Are they in designer clothing, or does the Burkka allow otherwise self consicous women to walk around in public in sweat suits while wearing no makeup? Trying not to be too obvious with my staring, I tried to figure out how to tell what was underneath. These things are black as night, so there's no seeing through them. Starting with the shoes doesn't help, as almost all of them wear sandals. But then one particular amorphous shape caught my eye. Unlike most of the Burkka wearers, there was no eye-slit. This woman was wearing a black veil which allowed her to see out, but we couldn't see in. She was about 5 foot 10, very slim, and wearing what looked to me to be high priced high heeled shoes, but what do I know. Ah ha, I thought, some women do dress up. Then as she came around the corner the wind off of the Persian Gulf caught her burkka, billowing open, and allowed me to see that she was in fact wearing blue jeans. I guess that answers my question. I promise there will not be a discussion, at least from me, on what these guys wear under their man dresses. It's not flattering on Dom DeLuise, and trust me, it's not working for these guys, either.

Day 199

Now, I've learned that I'm smart enough to know better than to believe everything I see on the internet, but I checked this out, and it appears to be true. John Madden is finally retiring. All it took was for me to go to Iraq. If I had known that was all it would take, I would have come here many, many years ago. It's not that I'm a fan of football, but it seems wherever I go, there's a NFL game on, be it Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday or Monday. And without fail, there is that grating, overly loud, no sense of an indoor voice, by the fourth period slurring words more than in the first, annoying human being saying things that make my skin crawl. I was listening to a comedian on Sirius radio, and he was poking fun at Madden. Madden apparently said of a football player who lost a contact lens on the field, "Now there's a guy who sees better with his contact's in." First quarter or fourth quarter; you decide. I know I am not alone in this opinion. Many times I'd enter a room to see a group of people watching a game with the sound turned off. The reason given every time; Madden is announcing. Let's just hope he enjoys his retirement enough NOT to want to come back to work. I'll drink to that, but not until the fourth quarter.

Day 198

So, this is how the R&R process works. You arrive in Qatar and that day is assigned as your day zero. Unless of course if you arrive late in the day, say after 6 pm, then that day is a free day and the next day is your day zero. After day zero each day is counted as the next day, as in Day 1, Day 2, and so on. On Day 4, at 9 pm, we have to check the flight schedules for our return back to our post. Yesterday was my day 4, and when the schedule was published, there were no flights, for anybody. So, according to the rules and regs, I have to report back tonight, day 5, at 9 pm, to see whether or not I have a flight. I talked to some people last night at 9 pm who have been here for 8 and 9 and 10 days. It may sound nice, but I am bored to tears. Lots of reading and web surfing, but I'm bored out of my mind. A guy can 'shower' only so many times a day, if you know what I mean. As for our accommodations here, we are housed in large tents, with 96 beds in each tent. My building has 6 tents. The warehouse is kept fairly cold. Since we are on our own schedule, there is almost always somebody sleeping. The main R&R building is nice. I huge warehouse with tons of space, and free wireless in the entire place. They mean well, but I'm bored. I want something to do.

Day 197

Yesterday I partook of a tour of the City of Doha, Qatar, and got lunch out of it, so it wasn't all bad. This is one booming town. I've heard they expect the oil to run out in about 20 years and they're doing all they can to build their modern infrastructure as quickly as possible, and pray for tourists. We were at a mall in the new downtown section, and there were at least 20 skyscrapers under construction. A look across the skline made me think of Doozers, just waiting for the inevitable Fraggles to come along and eat up all of their work. We took 24 people in a 24 person bus, how convinient for us, which luckily was air conditioned. We passed by a very large, by square footage if not by height, palace. Then past a shopping mall based on the Vegas attraction Bellagio. Next to that a really tall tower, still under construction, and a stadium which housed the 2006 Asian Games, seating 50,000 fans. Through the new suburbs, into the old part of town, at least the dirty part of town, and back into the new part of town. A small bling market where I had a hundred new best friends the moment I stepped off of the bus. Gaudy Alley, it shall be named. Then on to the coast for a few pics, then to lunch. Not bad food. A visit to a modern mall, then to an ancient mall, still working, then to a Harley shop and then back here. In all of that traveling, nowhere did I see one bookstore. These people are not illiterate, by any means, but not one bookstore. Perhaps this is Amazon dot com's biggest customer? I signed up for a boat tour today but did not sleep so well last night and decided to sleep in and do some more resting and relaxing. Good choice. Right now I'm waiting for my roll call at 9 pm, in about 5 hours, to see what time I fly back to Iraq. 5 months from today I have my Transfer of Authority Ceremony and then I'm outta here. I don't know if I've ever mentioned it before, but don't ever volunteer to come to the Middle East. It kinda sucks.

Day 195

I am here once again in the R&R center in Qatar. I just signed up for a city tour via air conditioned bus of the great city of Doha, Qatar. It has all of the earmarks of resting and relaxing, and I'm all for that. Not only that, it is scheduled for tomorrow, which gives me more time for my own resting and relaxing.
In more than one posting I have mentioned that I do not really like flying. Now that we have added the 15th follower, I think it is about time for me to tell the rest of the world why I do not like flying. I shall not refer to the 15th follower by name, but if he chooses to argue any points in this post, it is his right to do so. So, there I was, sitting quietly in my room in Grand Forks one sunny summer day, and my room mate, the 15th follower of this blog, approached me and one other fraternity brother and told us if we split the gas money that he'd take us flying. Having nothing better to do on a sunny summer day, we agreed and drove to the airport. Upon arriving at the flight line on this sunny summer day, our pilot brother was told by the operations staff that he had not been flying in a while and would have to first have an instructor take him on a flight check to ensure he didn't kill his passengers, or himself, or do damage to a UND plane. Then the instructor looked at us and asked if we wanted to ride along? Sensing a moments hesitation he quickly added, "It'll be fun." I've since learned that when I pilot says "It'll be fun", it's like a doctor pulling on a rubber glove, opening a tube of jelly, tellling the patient to drop his drawers and lean over the exam table, stating, "You'll feel a little pressure." Yeah, this was just like that. However, at this time in my life, as I was so much younger and innocent (stupid), I took the instructor at his word. So much like Hansel, I climbed into the rear of the plane, just behind the drivers seat. We taxied, we took off, we climbed, we flew. Now, remember, up until this point I had never had a problem flying. Small bumps and large turbulance never bothered me. I do get motion sickness on a swing-set, but have never once gotten violently ill, before, during, or after this instance. So, there we were, flying. It was a small aircraft, with seating for four, in the same way which a Yugo has seating for four. I don't know if I remember the entire flight check, but I do remember we did banks, left and right, at 30 degrees, and I had no problem. We then did banks, left and right, at 45 degrees, and still I had no problem. I remember trying to lift my arms and how heavy they felt. I remember looking out the window, straight down at the ground, and how cool it looked. I still felt no ill will towards anybody or anything that day, but it was early. After we straightened out we buzzed an empty field. I kind of felt like a WWI pilot strafing a Hun fighting position. And still, at this point, my outlook on life was kindly and open-minded. It almost felt as if angels were smiling on me. After the field buzzing, we once again climbed into the sunny summer day. We kind of had no choice, being as close to the ground as we were just a few minutes ago. Still climbing, and after gaining some altitude the instructor leaned forward, and with sadistic forethought and callous purpose, he pushed a red knob all of the way in. At first I was not sure what had happened. It got real quiet all of a sudden. Had the instructor activated 'whisper-mode' that I had seen in the movie "Blue Thunder"? I thought not. Had the instructor instead added another muffler to the engine to quiet it's overly loud roar? This seemed as unlikely as the 'whisper-mode'. In a flash it became clear to me that what had happened. The damned fool had shut the engine off! How did I finally become aware of this? It occured to me only when we began falling out of the sky; backwards. No warning! No throttling back! The moron had just leaned up and shut the engine off! Now, when the engine in my vehicle stops, I roll, gently, to the side of the road, where, out of the way, I call for help. Not so much in a plane. There's no such thing as 'gentle' in a plane without a working engine. The ground is not in contact with the wheels, but I was afraid it would be, and all too soon. All of this pulsed through my brain in a few moments, just about as long as it took us to stop falling backwards. This is when the full effect of gravity pulled upon the entire aircraft. The engine, being at the front, and being heavier than the tail, began to tip towards the earth, making the rest of the plane follow her. One minute I'm enjoying a pleasant sunny summer day with several of my fraternity brothers, and the next I'm in some sort of Grimm nightmare. Surely this instructor is a spy for NDSU. Why would a true employee of UND do this to fellow matriculators? And still we're falling. Forward now, where I can see through the windshield, the empty field rushing up at us. It's as if the dirty Hun had shot us down. At this point my brain ceased to function in a rational manner. My body began a rapid shut down for self-preservation. In a vain attempt to draw all body heat to the core, I became very cold, all over, yet started to sweat, also all over. My hands and my feet became ice cold, yet the perspiration on my hands left them clammy and slick. I was told by the others that I had become white as a ghost. No small feat for a man who is already so pale he almost glows in the dark. Just about the time I lost all feeling in my hands, my pilot brother had somehow, through a miracle of science no doubt, managed to re-start the engine. Not that my body, nor my brain, seemed to notice. We were, after all, still in the air, and pointed straight down. It was at this point that two or three of the neurons still active in my brain noticed that my hands had quit working. They would neither open nor close. They were, in fact, stuck half-way in-between. Imagine, if you will, the plastic spaghetti scoop with the small bowl with the 5 tongs. Those were the shape of both of my hands. With the one engine re-started the flight check was apparently at an end. After what seemed like two weeks later, we landed, taxied over to the operations building, and the plane shut off again, this time in the correct fashion, not while in the air. The two people in the front seats got out first, as there is only a single door on each side, and then those of us in the back deplaned. Well, one of us did, however I didn't have as much luck. My hands still wouldn't work. I had to maneuver using my forearms and elbows, and when I first tried to move, I found my legs did not want to cooperate. It appeared as though they wanted to remain in the aircraft. I supposed being below the sight-line of the window they were more unaware of the danger in which had found ourself than did the rest of my body. So, without the use of either my hands or my feet, using elbows and knees, I managed to extricate myself from the flying deathtrap which I had been tricked into entering. (Had the oven been in full view when I walked up to the aircraft I could passed on by and enjoyed the rest of my sunny summer day.) I did my best to stand up as straight as I could, enjoying the shade and comfort of the wing, not caring a whit how sunny the summer day used to be. The other three lucky passengers, none of whom appeared to be Gretel, who seemed not at all affected by the near death experience we all surely must have shared, stopped and stared at me for a few moments, each with the same look; he's gonna woof! Did I woof?! Nay!! Not before that fateful day nor since have I tossed my cookies while in flight or because of it. Once the other three were assured that I was not going to make a mess on the asphalt, either from my front or my rear, the instructor left for his office, and I heard somebody say, "Now that the flight check is over, let's get back in and have that ride." I can only think that it was my lack of neuron's firing on all cylinders that kept the laser beams from shooting out of my eyes and silencing, forever, the voice box of the offending speaker. In all honesty, I do not remember my response, however I am sure it contained language which should not be contained in a public blog. Due to my delicate nature the three of us went back to town, where I never again chose to venture that close to the flying oven. That was the only aircraft flight I ever took as a UND student, and ever since I have hated flying. I will say that flying more makes me hate it less. Since the 1st of October, I have flown; Bismarck to the Cities, to Seattle, to Sacramento, to Seattle, to Ireland, to Kuwait, to Tallil, to Basra, to Germany, to Kuwait, to Tallil, to Qatar. The only thing which really bothers me is the falling feeling. All other motion is more or less acceptable to me, but that falling feeling. Yikes! And how many of you have ever seen me walk around on a plane. Oh, I'll get up to let somebody in my row gain access to the aisle, but then I'm right back down. Here endeth the confession.
And that is why I do not like flying. And if the 15th follower wishes to make comment and/or corrections, or add a defense to this posting, he is more than welcome.
Some time I'll tell the story of a rough landing in Williston where my 'friend' said to me "We'll be ok, as long as the wings don't fall off". Oh, I guess I just told that one. Lots of fun to hear in a 12 seat prop plane, where the 12th seat is the toilet. It did my body good. Thanks for nothing, Don. :)

Day 194

Here I sit, in the Rest and Relaxation (R&R) Center in Camp As Sayliyah, just outside of Doha, Qatar. I've been in the Middle East now since the 17th of November, and yesterday, the day of my arrival, I heard the Call to Prayer for the first time. We have two mosques on Camp Adder, but one suffered a little bit of damage back in 2003 when it was struck, quite by accident I'm sure, by explosive ordinance from the American military. The other has stood empty since my arrival there. We sleep in a warehouse. There are several GP Large tents set up, with bunk beds and lockers. Showers, toilets and laundry are all in the warehouse, and lots of all. I'm currently in the R&R main building, with free internet, charging my iTouch. We are authorized to consume no more than three beers a day, from one of three establishments, all to my immediate right. On my left is a bowling alley. Just ahead of me is a large area with a stage. Further in the building, there is room with free Wii and X-Box games, consols, and TV, and in the back, there is a movie room. The entire area is 'shoe-free', and very soft flooring. Further into the building, there's a coffee shop and a computer room, for those without laptops. On the left side, just outside of the briefing room is movie lounge with oversized, extra-stuffed leather reclining chairs which face the large-screen TV, which is always playing a movie. The PX is ok and there are a few local vendors hawking their wares. Some stuff isn't too tacky. We wear civilian clothes, do our own thing, and just basically relax. What a good name for R&R.

Day 192

It's coming up on 8 pm here, and in an hour I'll be turning in my weapon and then getting on a plane to enjoy a 4-day pass of R&R in lovely Qatar. More later, from the 6th country I'll have visited this deployment.

Day 190

Only 160 days until we're officially done! At noon today I had a bit of a suprise; I am going on a 4-day pass the day after tomorrow. It's a long story and one best told not to an anomyous audience, or told without beer in hand. If the weather holds, and if there is a seat on the plane, I could be in Qatar in a few days. Not much to do, and I won't have doctor appointments to make. Should be relaxing. At least it's not here. It's at a MWR, Morale, Welfare and Recreation, Center and there are computers to use, so I'll stay in touch. I've been told there's a Chili's Resturant, a movie theater, shops, and tours. At least it's not here. This place lost its charm a few months back. I'm ready to go home now.

Day 190

Shortly after I woke up, the Giant Voice announced that we were in a lightening warning until further notice. It took me a few moments to realize that we all carry lightning rods over our shoulders. Good notice. Not much we can do about it though, except to try and stay low, in an area as flat as the Red River Valley, and no trees. Good luck with that. We didn't have too much luck with me working the new 2 to 10 shift, so starting today I will work a 11 to 7 shift. We'll give it a few days and see how it goes. At least I don't have to get up early.

Day 188

This is the first week I should be on my new work schedule, so I'll be writing more during my day than my night. I had yesterday off; second day off since the 13th of November. The weather here is nice. It's in the 70's with a slight breeze. I've got the window and door open to air the place out a bit. I'm actually thinking about washing my sheets. I haven't washed them since we moved in here, on the 30th of November. Yeah; it's time. I'm re-reading Stephen King's "It". I'd forgotten what a fun and scary book it is. I know this isn't much, but last week was a blur of double shifts and the weekend was a blur of unconsicousness in my bunk so there's not much to report.

Day 181

A new week with a new plan. We received two new soldiers to our office this morning, much needed and very welcomed, and we spent time today figuring out a new work schedule. I won't bore you with the entire plan, but I will bore you with my new work schedule. Starting tomorrow I will begin my work day at 2 in the afternoon and leave the office at 10 in the evening. Also, beginning this weekend I will start having Sunday's off. For the rest of the deployment. Yeah me! I got here on the 30th of November and have had one day off in that time. I know I was just in Germany but I don't count that, because it'd make me seem less needy for a day off. So, ignoring Germany, this coming Sunday will be my second day off since arriving here. I don't know what to do with all of this free time. Maybe I'll begin by improving my grooming and hygeine practices. Start your goals low and work your way up I always say. I'm pacing myself; I've still got six months to go and I don't want to peak too early.

Day 180

Back in Iraq, making another tax-free dollar a day. It turns out that Iraq does NOT use Daylight Savings Time, so I am to remain at an eight hour difference between here and Central Time in the States. I went to all that trouble not to learn to convert to the eight hour difference and now I have to. Of course, last week while in Germany, we were two hours difference from Iraq, which was confusing, because I'd look at the clock, add two hours, then take back nine hours and then add an hour to make it right with the central time zone. But even that was problematic as every time I looked at the face of a clock I added nine hours and then took back an hour, I was taking back the hour by mentally moving the hour hand back an hour in an anti-clickwise direction. (Well, not really using my thoughts to move to the hand itself. It was more of a move-it-with-my-minds-eye sort of mental thing) However that wasn't taking back the hour, just making it a nine hour difference again. So I never really did think of it as a nine hour difference with a one hour adjustment to make it eight hours, but in fact it was a nine hour difference with a one hour non-adjustment to make it nine hours. But, now that we're not going on daylight savings time it'll always be an eight hour difference, so I have to learn how to look at the clock and do the math all differently again. Add eight hours and change the 'm'; either to 'a' or 'p'. I think I've got it.