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.