Day 151

I think we'll call this week 'the failed experiment'. For those of you who don't know, like an idiot, I started smoking again. I know, I know. While at Ft. Lewis I got a prescription for Chantix, which is an amazing thing. I used it and in no way, shape or form did I get ansty when I actually quit. It worked so well that about 5 days after I quit smoking I quit taking the pills. And then about 5 days after that, when all of the drug was out of my system, I started smoking again. So, last week Friday I went to the stop smoking class here, and got a prescription for Wellbutron. I started taking it Saturday and by Wednesday I was having some not-so-fun moments. When I got home from work that day, it felt as though my skin was trying to pull itself away from my body, and it took every ounce of energy I had to keep from crawling under my bed and assuming the fetal position. Not the best frame of mind to be in when bombs drop out of the sky every so often. I asked for Chantix but apparently the Army doesn't have any in Iraq, so it was the Wellbutron or nothing. I think smoking is better than that crap I was taking this week. All is well. I am chemical free and happy to be. You know, I got to the end of the last sentence and just couldn't figure out how to end it. I am certainly not happy to be here, but I am happy to be alive, with a future I like, with so many non-desert places to visit, with friends and family back home, I am just happy to be. Maybe that's the best way to end it. I think we'll leave it at that.

Day 140

Having nothing to say, I performed a google search on '140'. It is the year that Pope Hyginus was killed by the emperor of Rome, Marcus Aurelius. Pope Hyginus; makes me think that he was a very clean pope. Also, Ptolemy published his Almagest in the year 140. I know we all know what it is, but for those of you that may have a temporary lapse of memory recall, it is a book on mathmetics and astronomy. Also, in rankings of national population, Latvia is 140th. Of course, as we all remember, 140 is the atomic weight of the temporary chemical element Unquadnilium. Having an IQ score of 140 places one in the category of genius. 140 pounds is equal to 63.5029318 kilograms, but 140 kilograms is 308 pounds. (What! No decimal places?) And my favorite find; the Picoprobe Model 140 High Performance Microwave Probe. Why is it listed as a microwave probe? It sounds as if it is probing for microwaves, where in reality is it a probe to test the temperature of food cooking inside the microwave. Shouldn't it be better labeled as food probe, or temperature probe? Why do some people make it so difficult for the rest of us? I didn't get a Hurumph out of that guy. Give the governor a Hurumph!

Day 135

It's been an interesting week here at COB Adder. Last week, while playing in the championship game between the NCO's and Officers, in a touch football tournament, our Company Commander, CPT Ed Bailey, after making the game winning catch in the endzone, landed wrong and broke his leg. After a couple of days here at the hospital he was to be flown to Germany. As they loaded him into a plane, the type that has the ramp in the back, he was twice dropped. His scream was heard at the terminal, two hundred meters away, and the planes engines were running. After both drops, they decided to fly him anyway. As they entered the plane, those carrying him caught his leg on a strap holding luggage in place. He returned to the hospital here at Adder for a few more days and finally flew out over the weekend. Our interm commander is in place, so we in supply have the honor, if not the thrill, of performing a 100% inventory with the new boss. Joy. Rapture. Add to that the fact that every day that we are here we find equipment that our predecessors did not track in any way. So, on top of taking care of soldiers, which we love to do anyway, it is, after all, our job, we're doing the job left undone by the Active Duty. I've heard stories of other soldiers who have previously deployed and, to a man, they tell me of how bored they were, of how much free time they had, of how they counted the minutes until they got to go home. Where are those days for Hughie? Just one would suffice. I constantly look forward to a day where I'll have nothing to do. Why do I get the feeling that it'll happen after I get back to North Dakota? For those of you who know Army supply, I just got the paperwork this afternoon so I can start my 10th FLIPL since Christmas; we're straightening up so we can do the change of command inventory beginning next week; I'm working on planning the company party; I just ordered the February birthday cake; we have a CSDP in April; we have to start the paperwork about the 15th of May so we can get home; I spent this afternoon in a class on Sexual Harassment and Sexual Assualt; and somewhere in there I have a job I have to do. Oh, to be bored to tears. A cool thing happened recently. A guy, well, actually an Air Force Airman, so 'guy' is the best term I can use for him, came through the office over the weekend with a bomb sniffing dog. It was so much fun to play with a dog again. Oh, there are dogs running around here, but they're more of the scrounge and flee type of dog than the sit and let be petted dogs.

Day 132

Van Camper. That's what I want to purchase when I get home. Van Camper. Doesn't need a toilet; doesn't need a TV; doesn't need a hot tub. It does need to keep out the rain, bugs, and small woodland creatures. Also, I like the mountains so the engine and transmission need to be working. Other than that, I'm good. If anybody knows of one for sale, please keep me in mind. Van Camper. Thank you.

Day 131

Under the heading of 'long term planning', I've made one; it is my desire, nay, my mission, that in the summer of 2010, I shall endevour to follow the Jimmy Buffett tour for as long as I am able. Parrotheads; unite!

Day 128

ARMY CRAP
What are you going to do to me? Bend my dog tags and send me to Iraq?
I'll even say it again; ARMY CRAP

Day 127

I've been spending some time doing research online, and I know the web must be wrong. Nowhere do I find facts supporting my thoery. I think I need to add a new page to Wikepedia. All of the evidence around me points to only one conclusion; the US Army was an occupying force of this area prior to 9/11. It had to have happened. There isn't a single tree, other than those planted along the roads, anywhere around. And the sheer number of trees the Army cuts down to make reports is staggering. Army paperwork; no trees. See, it works, you just have to want to see it. I, in just the last two weeks, produced enough paperwork to keep a logging crew busy for a season. Of course, the kicker was yesterday. After I did all of my paperwork in triplicate, I was told that I should not be making all of the copies they told me to make. Turns out they'll make the copies after the paperwork is signed. It's just easier, they said, than to have the boss sign the original and then all of the copies. So, yesterday, I dropped a stack of paperwork, fourteen inches high, into the garbage. Somewhere in Amsterdam a stoner is looking for his rolling papers, and can't find them because the US Army took it from him, just so I could throw it away. Maybe there'd be more productivity in the Army if we used the paper for what the guy is Amsterdam is doing rather than making copies we don't need. I'm not saying, I'm just saying. Speaking of trees, or the lack thereof, I miss green. Whenever I see a picture from anywhere else, there's usually grass or trees in the background. I stop and stare. Oh, don't get me wrong, there are a couple of places around here where it's green. I really wouldn't call it grass; it's more like a long fungus that's trying to be grass. It's close enough to grass, though, that whenever I spot it, I have to slow down and stare, longingly, into it's deep, green, mossy soul, where it draws me deeper, deeper, and deeper into the inviting color. But I digress. The entire landscape is alot like snirt. For those of you who don't know snirt, it's a combination of snow and dirt. Think that, and you'll get an idea of what my view is all day long. The Red Sea used to be right where I'm sitting, so think of the flatness of the Red River Valley, covered in snirt, with no trees. Oh; I paint an inviting picture, don't I?

Day 125

Here is a picture of the tattoo I'm going to get when I get home. Michael Jay's in Bismarck does a great job, and I need them to put this on my right calf. I could use some help, though. First, color; he's wearing authentic 18th century clothes, so should I try to go for traditional colors, or should I go with more a modern look? Second; the color of the drum; bright or subdued? Finally, should I leave it as is, or should I add a line or two of text? If I'm adding text, what should it be? And thanks Kate (don't make me try to spell your last name) for drawing this for me!!