Last night started with a trip to the Chinese restaurant with me, S., C., and our new friend Charlie. The chickens that run around the yard under the tables had been reduced to one and it lay sick and worn out looking in a black lump of feathers on the ground. C. nudged it a couple of times with her foot and it finally wobbled to its legs but it didn’t look too pert. I looked at my General’s Chicken chicken in a whole new light after seeing this sick bird. But the other chickens had been replaced by two large geese that waddled around the front door of the kitchen. I wonder if goose dishes will soon be on the menu.
Jo. Came by and we wound sitting at the restaurant what proved to be too long, as evidenced by the pyramid of Warsteiner cans on the table. Afterwards we came back to the palace and sat at the pool until midnight.
I spent today, my day off under this new system, sleeping in then reading under the date trees by the pool. The pool has been refilled with water this week which is odd because that very day my camp ran out of water and now the whole compound is on restricted water use. I guess the desert and ships have something in common afterall. The book I’m reading right now is really good – The Fool’s Progress by Edward Abbey. Its been the best thing I’ve read by him so far, even better than Desert Solitaire. He really was a grumpy old man but contrary to the tone of his work he didn’t hate humanity. He hated what we’ve let The Man, Materialism, and the pasteurization of life for the past 40 years do to us. He writes escapism for people who would gag on Danielle Steel or Nicholas Sparks and can’t get into Stephen King.
After a nap this afternoon I walked back over to the pool to read some more. I ran into Ji. and S. standing with some PSD people. We talked a few minutes. I told her she looked really nice in that dress and that hat…she looked like Julia Roberts at the polo match in Pretty Woman. We stood around some more then walked over to the podium.
Turns out Colin Powell was here for a speech and I stumbled into a second row spot to stand…good timing for once.
I like Colin Powell even though I’m not a big fan on the rest of the administration. He talked about rebuilding Iraq, etc, what a good job we’re doing, etc etc and made a couple of jokes about the embellished stories we’d eventually tell our friends and families. I suppose that’s true. One thing I know, I gripe about the palace being too crowded, the dust, and generally wanting to be somewhere else. But years down the road I’ll be able to look back and say I was here, and that my Iraq experience is that big thing I once wondered if I’d ever experience.
Friday, July 30, 2004
Thursday, July 29, 2004
MRE's and a Northwest reverie
Ahh, just had a MRE lunch of black bean and rice burrito, pound cake and pineapple, and peanut butter and crackers…I wasn’t hungry, the only reason I ate is because it was an MRE and the DFAC wasn’t crowded.
Sadly, the reason we had MRE’s is because the contracted DFAC employees were in mourning for the Pakistanis that were killed. They worked for the same outfit and I think they may have even worked at the Palace. The pic of one of them with General K I think was taken here t the 4th of July party.
This morning I’ve tracked people down for signatures to take accountability for their property. I’ve also talked with the contracting office about various matters. They nicely told my office to get out of the pistol business – it’s a Ft Bliss – KBR issue that they don’t want JASG Loggies stirring up anymore. I think it’s the fact that Air Force and Navy culture are all about producing results and resolving situations and Army culture is to continue stirring simmering pots indefinitely because of all their bloated regulations.
Sometimes when I’ve had enough of this bloat I retreat into memories of places I’ve been. The last couple of days I’ve thought about Victoria, British Columbia.
I’ve made two port visits there – one in April of 2001 and the other in October 2002. Though they were both enjoyable its this second one that I think about the most. I love fall and fall in the Northwest is unbeatable.
The Queen was in town during that port visit and the beautiful garden city was decked out in its finest with hanging baskets and banners. The first night I had duty which turned eventful when a Hawaiian sailor in my division smashed the plate glass window of a downtown jewelery shop. “Mr. P I looked at it and just felt rage, but then I felt better.” He was a really good guy and bought me some beers when we pulled into Oahu.
The second day Ca. and I walked from the ship into downtown. We stopped for coffee then walked to the jewelry shop to see how the window looked. I’d called the husbanding agent as soon as I got the phone call from the police and he got to work right away – the new window was so clean you could hardly tell it was there. I said hello to the owners inside who just smiled and said thanks for checking in.
Me, Ca., Joh., and D. spent the day walking around the different shops. I found a used bookstore and bought the Karma Sutra and a book about the lives of various American statesmen, and a book about torture thru the centuries – that one was actually interesting. Afterwards we had fish and chips and played pool at this great little pub across the street from the harbor. The afternoon sunlight always hits that place to give a lovely glow and burn your eyes just enough so that you know you’re alive.
We walked back to the ship to rest up for the evening. I changed clothes and went for a run down thru the park that looks out over the Straight of Juan de Fuca. I love running parks like that on sunny afternoon, stopping to pet people’s dogs, watching people wind surf and fly kites. A really awesome place.
Of course that night was spent downtown at the Sticky Wicket and other places doing the things Sailors do. The next day I went to the National Geographic museum and saw a horrible IMAX about Jane Goodall’s vicious chimps. The whole time I knew I should have gone to see the one about the Shackleton expedition.
Later that day or maybe the next me and some friends I was hanging with saw the queen. She came out of that fancy hotel down on the harbor and waved a few times then got into a gold Ford and passed within 60 feet of me. From there we went to places I won’t tell about but it was a fun evening. I met a girl who was a seargent in the Canadian armed forces. Short blonde hair and green eyes…she was beautiful – long and lithe..
I’ll always have a special place in my heart for Victoria. A couple of weeks later we got underway for a workup exercise in SOCAL but got delayed by a storm off the Washington and Oregon coast. While we sat in the Straight one afternoon, a bunch of us were out on the fantail because there was nothing going on. I enjoyed the fall air and smell of the Douglas firs. While we stood around on the fantail a pod of orca’s swam up to the ship. There must have been 12 or fifteen of them. That’s what I like about the Northwest and Victoria has the most NW feel to it of any town I’ve ever been in. I can go there anytime I want – just put on Blues Traveller’s “Canadian Rose” and I’ll be the ugly American in that friendly, clean little town any day.
Sadly, the reason we had MRE’s is because the contracted DFAC employees were in mourning for the Pakistanis that were killed. They worked for the same outfit and I think they may have even worked at the Palace. The pic of one of them with General K I think was taken here t the 4th of July party.
This morning I’ve tracked people down for signatures to take accountability for their property. I’ve also talked with the contracting office about various matters. They nicely told my office to get out of the pistol business – it’s a Ft Bliss – KBR issue that they don’t want JASG Loggies stirring up anymore. I think it’s the fact that Air Force and Navy culture are all about producing results and resolving situations and Army culture is to continue stirring simmering pots indefinitely because of all their bloated regulations.
Sometimes when I’ve had enough of this bloat I retreat into memories of places I’ve been. The last couple of days I’ve thought about Victoria, British Columbia.
I’ve made two port visits there – one in April of 2001 and the other in October 2002. Though they were both enjoyable its this second one that I think about the most. I love fall and fall in the Northwest is unbeatable.
The Queen was in town during that port visit and the beautiful garden city was decked out in its finest with hanging baskets and banners. The first night I had duty which turned eventful when a Hawaiian sailor in my division smashed the plate glass window of a downtown jewelery shop. “Mr. P I looked at it and just felt rage, but then I felt better.” He was a really good guy and bought me some beers when we pulled into Oahu.
The second day Ca. and I walked from the ship into downtown. We stopped for coffee then walked to the jewelry shop to see how the window looked. I’d called the husbanding agent as soon as I got the phone call from the police and he got to work right away – the new window was so clean you could hardly tell it was there. I said hello to the owners inside who just smiled and said thanks for checking in.
Me, Ca., Joh., and D. spent the day walking around the different shops. I found a used bookstore and bought the Karma Sutra and a book about the lives of various American statesmen, and a book about torture thru the centuries – that one was actually interesting. Afterwards we had fish and chips and played pool at this great little pub across the street from the harbor. The afternoon sunlight always hits that place to give a lovely glow and burn your eyes just enough so that you know you’re alive.
We walked back to the ship to rest up for the evening. I changed clothes and went for a run down thru the park that looks out over the Straight of Juan de Fuca. I love running parks like that on sunny afternoon, stopping to pet people’s dogs, watching people wind surf and fly kites. A really awesome place.
Of course that night was spent downtown at the Sticky Wicket and other places doing the things Sailors do. The next day I went to the National Geographic museum and saw a horrible IMAX about Jane Goodall’s vicious chimps. The whole time I knew I should have gone to see the one about the Shackleton expedition.
Later that day or maybe the next me and some friends I was hanging with saw the queen. She came out of that fancy hotel down on the harbor and waved a few times then got into a gold Ford and passed within 60 feet of me. From there we went to places I won’t tell about but it was a fun evening. I met a girl who was a seargent in the Canadian armed forces. Short blonde hair and green eyes…she was beautiful – long and lithe..
I’ll always have a special place in my heart for Victoria. A couple of weeks later we got underway for a workup exercise in SOCAL but got delayed by a storm off the Washington and Oregon coast. While we sat in the Straight one afternoon, a bunch of us were out on the fantail because there was nothing going on. I enjoyed the fall air and smell of the Douglas firs. While we stood around on the fantail a pod of orca’s swam up to the ship. There must have been 12 or fifteen of them. That’s what I like about the Northwest and Victoria has the most NW feel to it of any town I’ve ever been in. I can go there anytime I want – just put on Blues Traveller’s “Canadian Rose” and I’ll be the ugly American in that friendly, clean little town any day.
Wednesday, July 28, 2004
a canadian hottie on a hot day
So the booms yesterday morning I thought was a truck emptying the dumpsters was mortars hitting the Steel Dragon compound. I guess its complacency makes us look for the least volatile, dangerous explanation.
Today I chaired a meeting about processing work requests and material requests and it turned into a love fest because we all agreed on everything. Before that I’d been talking to B. about whether or not we should pay to support work at the flea market. While I was talking a State Dept guy walked in and just started shoving paper at her and talking. As I so often do I lost my temper without thinking, said a few choice words, the last one being “I guess I wasn’t sitting here.” He said, “I’m sorry, did I interrupt?” I told him to shove it. That feels good.
This afternoon C. wanted to go buy movies and some Bounty bars. Being a female she needed an escort. Since my finger was worn out from surfing the Internet I said I’d take her. SSGT N. gave us a vehicle but he didn’t know where it was or what it looked like…he just knew it was a Pajero.
I walked around three parking lots for half an hour sticking the key into every Pajero. I guess it was hot because C. just griped and griped. She usually says I complain all the time but today she said, “I’ve never seen you so optimistic!” but she was furious at my enthusiasm. The way I see it, the key eventually had to work. Unfortunately we didn’t find the vehicle it worked in. Half an hour of walking around a 130 degree parking lot that was a mass grave for a short while immediately after the war…but at least we knew which Pajeros the key didn’t fit.
We walked to the PX and the little Iraqi store next to it. We found the Bounty bars and cigars. I also bought Avril Lavigne’s new CD. I guess I’m a sucker for her pretty face and the fact that she’s Canadian but I’ve enjoyed both her albums once I bought them. She’s a got a lot of talent. So far no one song stands out on this album, but they all sound good in the background…reminds me of fall for some reason. After the ill fated safari thru the parking lot I guess that’s a good thing.
Today I chaired a meeting about processing work requests and material requests and it turned into a love fest because we all agreed on everything. Before that I’d been talking to B. about whether or not we should pay to support work at the flea market. While I was talking a State Dept guy walked in and just started shoving paper at her and talking. As I so often do I lost my temper without thinking, said a few choice words, the last one being “I guess I wasn’t sitting here.” He said, “I’m sorry, did I interrupt?” I told him to shove it. That feels good.
This afternoon C. wanted to go buy movies and some Bounty bars. Being a female she needed an escort. Since my finger was worn out from surfing the Internet I said I’d take her. SSGT N. gave us a vehicle but he didn’t know where it was or what it looked like…he just knew it was a Pajero.
I walked around three parking lots for half an hour sticking the key into every Pajero. I guess it was hot because C. just griped and griped. She usually says I complain all the time but today she said, “I’ve never seen you so optimistic!” but she was furious at my enthusiasm. The way I see it, the key eventually had to work. Unfortunately we didn’t find the vehicle it worked in. Half an hour of walking around a 130 degree parking lot that was a mass grave for a short while immediately after the war…but at least we knew which Pajeros the key didn’t fit.
We walked to the PX and the little Iraqi store next to it. We found the Bounty bars and cigars. I also bought Avril Lavigne’s new CD. I guess I’m a sucker for her pretty face and the fact that she’s Canadian but I’ve enjoyed both her albums once I bought them. She’s a got a lot of talent. So far no one song stands out on this album, but they all sound good in the background…reminds me of fall for some reason. After the ill fated safari thru the parking lot I guess that’s a good thing.
Monday, July 26, 2004
original art and shade trees
Two loud blasts shook the windows pretty good this morning but I haven’t seen anything about what it was on CNN yet. Car bombs are quite the news event they once were. After a morning of running around doing what I considered the “essential” work for the day, jacked up on Starbucks my mother sent me I sat at my computer at 1030 and zoned out. The people in my office spent an hour trying to figure out how to hook up a projector to C.’s laptop so we could watch new release DVD’s o the pastel green wall. They didn’t figure it out and at 1100 S. and I took off to the flea market.
I bought Robot and the new Tom Hanks movie C. had asked me to pick up and also the Godfather. I’ve watched the Godfather many times but never all the way thru and I don’t really remember so many of the quotes people reference. This time will be different, I’ll learn my Godfather mantra and go forth in the world armed with knowledge of whats said to be the best guy movie of all time, before Swingers came out. I have a feeling I’ll come out the other end of the Godfather still liking Swingers and Clint Eastwood’s spaghetti westerns better.
At the flea market there is always a lot of good, original art for sale. Today S. bought a great oil on canvas painting of an Egyptian woman in a white gown with gold and jewels in the trim. The background is a brown but bright yellow which will make the painting own whatever room it hangs in. The Iraqi guy asked $65 but S. got him down to $55. While the guy took the painting off its frame and wrapped it around a length of PVC pipe for transport I stood in the shade and watched an Iraqi guy sing a song while these beautiful women danced a traditional Iraqi dance around him. They flipped their long black hair around and did mini dervishes with their necks while the guy sang to a woman sitting with a guy holding a hooka pipe, tapping it against his cheek in time with the music. I asked what he was singing and the other guy sitting in front of the fan said he was singing to the lady, asking her to come dance with him.
This made sense. I’ve never seen Japanese television that made sense but Arab television tells stories that make sense.
Back at the palace I got some lunch which I didn’t eat then walked out back by the pool and feel asleep under the big tree with the branches that come all the way to the ground. There were several people sleeping under the tree – its shade has at least a 70 ft diameter.
Now I’m back at work…waiting to see how to spend the rest of the day.
I bought Robot and the new Tom Hanks movie C. had asked me to pick up and also the Godfather. I’ve watched the Godfather many times but never all the way thru and I don’t really remember so many of the quotes people reference. This time will be different, I’ll learn my Godfather mantra and go forth in the world armed with knowledge of whats said to be the best guy movie of all time, before Swingers came out. I have a feeling I’ll come out the other end of the Godfather still liking Swingers and Clint Eastwood’s spaghetti westerns better.
At the flea market there is always a lot of good, original art for sale. Today S. bought a great oil on canvas painting of an Egyptian woman in a white gown with gold and jewels in the trim. The background is a brown but bright yellow which will make the painting own whatever room it hangs in. The Iraqi guy asked $65 but S. got him down to $55. While the guy took the painting off its frame and wrapped it around a length of PVC pipe for transport I stood in the shade and watched an Iraqi guy sing a song while these beautiful women danced a traditional Iraqi dance around him. They flipped their long black hair around and did mini dervishes with their necks while the guy sang to a woman sitting with a guy holding a hooka pipe, tapping it against his cheek in time with the music. I asked what he was singing and the other guy sitting in front of the fan said he was singing to the lady, asking her to come dance with him.
This made sense. I’ve never seen Japanese television that made sense but Arab television tells stories that make sense.
Back at the palace I got some lunch which I didn’t eat then walked out back by the pool and feel asleep under the big tree with the branches that come all the way to the ground. There were several people sleeping under the tree – its shade has at least a 70 ft diameter.
Now I’m back at work…waiting to see how to spend the rest of the day.
Friday, July 23, 2004
political ire and chickens
Yesterday I had the day off. It was very relaxing. I started the day off right by not shaving. Man, I’ve been shaving everyday since July fourth and my face was worn out. Only by not shaving can we get a close shave. This morning my face is really smooth, even after using a disposable Gillete.
I read the Atlantic Monthly during the morning. The article that stands out was about why we feel perpetual stress and a lack of closure with our jobs. Unlike building a wall or cutting timber, most of us who work in an office environment can’t see what we’ve done at the end of the day. It all runs together in a molasses mess of perpetual minutia. I approve work requests for a paycheck. They never end and the when needed the guidance I’m given is often vague and just a suggestion. I need absolutes to really know how to push this paper.
Later I walked to the Haji mart for some cigars then back to the hooch and watched Farenheit 9/11. I won’t say much about it because I get ill whenever I think about George Bush as our president and this war he waged on the people of Iraq to line his own pockets and those of his cohorts and fellow Texans. His administration are liars and cowards. If there is any such thing as eternal justice after we die Bush and Cheney are going to have a few long days ahead of them. I think we need the draft so most sons and daughters of America have to do time in the military. Maybe then all the old white men in Congress won’t be so quick to make war and rally round the flag in patriotic zeal (before they realize its all to support a corporate geography that doesn’t give a damn about most Americans like me and you). Like John Fogerty said, I ain’t no Fortunate One.
Then I walked back to the pool and read a Rolling Stone article about the death of Jim Morrison. That girl Pamela kept his body on dry ice in her bedroom for two days. The funniest part of the article is the two hippies wandering Paris singing bad covers of Crosby, Still, Nash and Young. Jim, drunk asks them to come record with him. Apparently it was a pretty bad half hour session but its survived so I’ll look for a CD to see just how bad it was.
Last night S., Jo. And I went to the Chinese restaurant. It was a good way to end the day. Four chickens strutted around the yard in and out from under the tables.
The food was very fresh.
I read the Atlantic Monthly during the morning. The article that stands out was about why we feel perpetual stress and a lack of closure with our jobs. Unlike building a wall or cutting timber, most of us who work in an office environment can’t see what we’ve done at the end of the day. It all runs together in a molasses mess of perpetual minutia. I approve work requests for a paycheck. They never end and the when needed the guidance I’m given is often vague and just a suggestion. I need absolutes to really know how to push this paper.
Later I walked to the Haji mart for some cigars then back to the hooch and watched Farenheit 9/11. I won’t say much about it because I get ill whenever I think about George Bush as our president and this war he waged on the people of Iraq to line his own pockets and those of his cohorts and fellow Texans. His administration are liars and cowards. If there is any such thing as eternal justice after we die Bush and Cheney are going to have a few long days ahead of them. I think we need the draft so most sons and daughters of America have to do time in the military. Maybe then all the old white men in Congress won’t be so quick to make war and rally round the flag in patriotic zeal (before they realize its all to support a corporate geography that doesn’t give a damn about most Americans like me and you). Like John Fogerty said, I ain’t no Fortunate One.
Then I walked back to the pool and read a Rolling Stone article about the death of Jim Morrison. That girl Pamela kept his body on dry ice in her bedroom for two days. The funniest part of the article is the two hippies wandering Paris singing bad covers of Crosby, Still, Nash and Young. Jim, drunk asks them to come record with him. Apparently it was a pretty bad half hour session but its survived so I’ll look for a CD to see just how bad it was.
Last night S., Jo. And I went to the Chinese restaurant. It was a good way to end the day. Four chickens strutted around the yard in and out from under the tables.
The food was very fresh.
Wednesday, July 21, 2004
memorial service and shaky knees
Yesterday I went to a memorial service for a local Iraqi girl who died in a car accident on the 17th. She worked at the PCO Annex as a translator and had wanted to learn how to drive. Unfortunately whoever was teaching her didn’t give much supervision. She mistakenly put the car into the Tigris and drowned. Specificially she got trapped in the concertina wire we have run under the water. I can’t imagine a more horrible way to die.
Little hand outs were printed up and laying in each of the white plastic lawn chairs. The service was held in the basement of the white palace, right on the river. Su. Was 22 years old and had a radiant smile. Photo after photo showed her with the warmest smile and that is what most of the speakers remembered and talked about.
The preacher, wearing a white robe and stole over desert camoflauge chanted a passage about death from the Qaran and then translated it in English. Afterwards a Major stood up and recited a passage from Corintheans. There were a handful of personal memorials. The one that stands out is Su.’s goal of helping her family rebuild their home which had been destroyed by the war. To this end she attended Baghdad Unv. In the evening studying mechanical engineering after working as a translator in the mornings. Then we all sang Amazing Grace. I was surprised because Su. Wore a hajib and was definitely Muslim. At the end we all walked by and shook her families hands.
After the service C. and her friend L. and I drove over to the Saddam swords so I could take my own pictures. The best one I got was one of the Iraqi security guards, the same one who tried to sell me one of the helmets from the memorial. He held up his Veterans For Kerry bumper sticker and I got a good shot of it. The Iraqis know what best for them and it ain’t more gun slinging from a Republican White House.
Then he took me down into a dark hole in the ground and we began to climb little ladders and then steel cross beams until I stuck my head out the top of one of the fists. My knees where shaking because I’m afraid of heights or at least am not used to them. C. snapped a picture of me waving but its way, way up and hard to see.
I spent the rest of the day into the evening filling out hand receipts for computers, refrigerators and anything else I have to get people to sign for today.
Little hand outs were printed up and laying in each of the white plastic lawn chairs. The service was held in the basement of the white palace, right on the river. Su. Was 22 years old and had a radiant smile. Photo after photo showed her with the warmest smile and that is what most of the speakers remembered and talked about.
The preacher, wearing a white robe and stole over desert camoflauge chanted a passage about death from the Qaran and then translated it in English. Afterwards a Major stood up and recited a passage from Corintheans. There were a handful of personal memorials. The one that stands out is Su.’s goal of helping her family rebuild their home which had been destroyed by the war. To this end she attended Baghdad Unv. In the evening studying mechanical engineering after working as a translator in the mornings. Then we all sang Amazing Grace. I was surprised because Su. Wore a hajib and was definitely Muslim. At the end we all walked by and shook her families hands.
After the service C. and her friend L. and I drove over to the Saddam swords so I could take my own pictures. The best one I got was one of the Iraqi security guards, the same one who tried to sell me one of the helmets from the memorial. He held up his Veterans For Kerry bumper sticker and I got a good shot of it. The Iraqis know what best for them and it ain’t more gun slinging from a Republican White House.
Then he took me down into a dark hole in the ground and we began to climb little ladders and then steel cross beams until I stuck my head out the top of one of the fists. My knees where shaking because I’m afraid of heights or at least am not used to them. C. snapped a picture of me waving but its way, way up and hard to see.
I spent the rest of the day into the evening filling out hand receipts for computers, refrigerators and anything else I have to get people to sign for today.
Tuesday, July 20, 2004
giants and hard boiled eggs
I just got back from breakfast. Its was okay. I had a hard boiled egg which I dip in hot sauce, bacon, kiwi, and watermelon. Standard fare for my Baghdad mornings but usually back home I just have a bowl of cereal and maybe a piece of fruit. I eat cereal here on occasion but KBR isn’t big on refrigeration and warm milk just makes me gag enen though its UHT. I usually have warm orange juice and grape juice to go with it.
I brought my Thoreau, Walden and Other Writings to look at while I eat. I usually bring magazines but have run out but Thoruea is really good. I usually find a thought worth remembering on every page. This morning:
THE UNIVERSE IS WIDER THAN OUR VIEWS OF IT.
This becomes readily apparent in Iraq. As I read two men walked by holding hands. Standing in line for breakfast I saw two men walk up to each other and kiss on the mouth. I often see them walking arm and arm. I sat thru a briefing once and the briefer said if an Iraqi doesn’t touch you he either doesn’t like you or knows that touching makes Americans uncomfortable.
Oddly enough Iraqi men don’t touch the women this way. And I’ve never seen women walk up to each other and kiss or hold hands. A quick hand shake is about as far as a standard greeting goes with Iraqi women. This is unfortunate that these traditional greetings don’t extend to Arabic women. They really are beautiful. In fact, local myth has it that a race of giants started the human race here, set it in motion then took off back to their own star. A few were left behind to help build stuff, like the pyramids and some other middle eastern temples like that big fort on the hill (Mt Sainii?).
But the giants that were left behind found the human women so beautiful and attractive that they began to have affairs and eventually children with them. So the other giants came back and took their wayward brethren with them. These giants are an integral part in the story of David and Goliath.
I can understand why the giants liked the girls: middle eastern women are really pretty, especially their eyes. If we could only get them to kiss and hold hands upon greeting.
I brought my Thoreau, Walden and Other Writings to look at while I eat. I usually bring magazines but have run out but Thoruea is really good. I usually find a thought worth remembering on every page. This morning:
THE UNIVERSE IS WIDER THAN OUR VIEWS OF IT.
This becomes readily apparent in Iraq. As I read two men walked by holding hands. Standing in line for breakfast I saw two men walk up to each other and kiss on the mouth. I often see them walking arm and arm. I sat thru a briefing once and the briefer said if an Iraqi doesn’t touch you he either doesn’t like you or knows that touching makes Americans uncomfortable.
Oddly enough Iraqi men don’t touch the women this way. And I’ve never seen women walk up to each other and kiss or hold hands. A quick hand shake is about as far as a standard greeting goes with Iraqi women. This is unfortunate that these traditional greetings don’t extend to Arabic women. They really are beautiful. In fact, local myth has it that a race of giants started the human race here, set it in motion then took off back to their own star. A few were left behind to help build stuff, like the pyramids and some other middle eastern temples like that big fort on the hill (Mt Sainii?).
But the giants that were left behind found the human women so beautiful and attractive that they began to have affairs and eventually children with them. So the other giants came back and took their wayward brethren with them. These giants are an integral part in the story of David and Goliath.
I can understand why the giants liked the girls: middle eastern women are really pretty, especially their eyes. If we could only get them to kiss and hold hands upon greeting.
Monday, July 19, 2004
our town and november
Today B., CPT A. and I walked around the palace inventorying computers, refrigerators, etc. pilferable items in the interest of the American taxpayer. I hit my mid afternoon slump toward the end and went to work out. My work outs consist of pull up and reverse sit ups and sometimes dumbbell curls…I use 30 to 35 pound weights, 12 to 16 reps then five more over my head. Then off to run 2-3 miles where I listen to Cracker and am a rock star.
This evening I came back and caught up on the pile of paper that accumulated on my desk over the course of the day. After dinner I put on a Garrison Keillor CD I found in the Chaplains office today while doing the inventory.
There was a recording of Iris Dement’s performance of “Our Town” on there from November 1992. I like Iris, love her voice and love that song. But what is really cool is I remember the night that show first aired.
I’d driven from Cookeville to Murfreesboro to see M., my friend from high school. That night we ate chili he fixed. I remember it tasted odd and then his dad asked M. if he’d put chocolate in it. I’d never heard of chocolate in chili before. But I suppose chocolate and chilis together is a common thing in central and south America. Since then I’ve eaten a chili pepper pop cicle from a street vendor in San Antonio. Later M.’s dad drove to the mini mart and brought us back a gallon of Schaffers in a plastic milk jug.
The next day M. and I drove to Nash Vegas and spent the afternoon at Davis Kidd Books where I bought Oscar Williams poetry collection which I’ve read over and over and its pages have become bloated, brown and faded from years of sitting in my truck and being assaulted by sea spray when I took it on the ships with me.
That evening I said good bye to M and started the drive back to Cookeville down Highway 96. I stopped at Sonic and while sitting in the truck eating chili pies and tator tots I heard Iris Dement sing Our Town on the Prairie Home Companion. I remember I just stopped eating and listened, I was so taken in by her voice and the plaintivness of the song. And the awareness that this was my life and that it would go on and on and I would watch things around me change though at the time I had no concept of patience or how far away we can truly go. That night back in Cookeville I stopped at Wal-Mart and bought a thick flannel shirt because it was chilly outside and winter was coming on.
A few years later I would think Our Town was maudlin sentimentalism, another hoaky ballad.
But I came around and recognized its beauty again. Since that November night M’s dad has passed away, M’s moved to New Jersey and I’ll probably never see him again. And I’ve traveled the world but sometimes would give anything to be back in one of those little towns with a Sonic, sitting at friends house, our driving home down a dark two lane highway with the chill of the November night blowing in thru the half open window and a Prairie Home Companion on the radio.
This evening I came back and caught up on the pile of paper that accumulated on my desk over the course of the day. After dinner I put on a Garrison Keillor CD I found in the Chaplains office today while doing the inventory.
There was a recording of Iris Dement’s performance of “Our Town” on there from November 1992. I like Iris, love her voice and love that song. But what is really cool is I remember the night that show first aired.
I’d driven from Cookeville to Murfreesboro to see M., my friend from high school. That night we ate chili he fixed. I remember it tasted odd and then his dad asked M. if he’d put chocolate in it. I’d never heard of chocolate in chili before. But I suppose chocolate and chilis together is a common thing in central and south America. Since then I’ve eaten a chili pepper pop cicle from a street vendor in San Antonio. Later M.’s dad drove to the mini mart and brought us back a gallon of Schaffers in a plastic milk jug.
The next day M. and I drove to Nash Vegas and spent the afternoon at Davis Kidd Books where I bought Oscar Williams poetry collection which I’ve read over and over and its pages have become bloated, brown and faded from years of sitting in my truck and being assaulted by sea spray when I took it on the ships with me.
That evening I said good bye to M and started the drive back to Cookeville down Highway 96. I stopped at Sonic and while sitting in the truck eating chili pies and tator tots I heard Iris Dement sing Our Town on the Prairie Home Companion. I remember I just stopped eating and listened, I was so taken in by her voice and the plaintivness of the song. And the awareness that this was my life and that it would go on and on and I would watch things around me change though at the time I had no concept of patience or how far away we can truly go. That night back in Cookeville I stopped at Wal-Mart and bought a thick flannel shirt because it was chilly outside and winter was coming on.
A few years later I would think Our Town was maudlin sentimentalism, another hoaky ballad.
But I came around and recognized its beauty again. Since that November night M’s dad has passed away, M’s moved to New Jersey and I’ll probably never see him again. And I’ve traveled the world but sometimes would give anything to be back in one of those little towns with a Sonic, sitting at friends house, our driving home down a dark two lane highway with the chill of the November night blowing in thru the half open window and a Prairie Home Companion on the radio.
Saturday, July 17, 2004
movie star
Last night S. and I went to a wetting down for a LCDR who was selected for CDR.
I walked back to the trailer to change out of uniform. Due to general order one I had to be incognito. Here I’ll tell what I wore one time just in case anybody wonders how I dress in Iraq. Iraqi sandals, olive cargo shorts and a red checkered Izod shirt. I carried a Cuban cigar in my shirt pocket so against that shirt it looked like a spit stain on a table cloth. I wore a blue mini-mag flashlight on my belt.
The party was under the awning out by the pool…we baked under the tin roof like potatos in an oven. But the sun went down and more people showed up. In flagrant violation of general order one we both snuck a beer from the garbage can ice chest and sat them down on the picnic table behind us everytime General S. walked by.
Toward the end of the evening we sat on the rail around the portico watching famished cats dart in and out for the crumbs of pretzels and ritz crackers. Along with an Air Force friend we told ghost stories until the stories ran dry and right as I was standing up to walk back to my trailer K. walked over. If heaven had a face hers hazel ones would be the two twinkling eyes. She is the prettiest girl in Iraq. I stood there smiling, K.’s shaply curves resting easy against the pink dress she wore with the familiar green alligator on her chest.
Then I exercised my talent for saying the dorkiest thing I can think of (without actually thinking): “I’m wearing Izod too.”
Yes, the mere fact any guy would brag about wearing Izod or even remember the manufacturer of a shirt is suspect…she should have walked away.
But I saved it by nodding toward the British guitar player and casually saying I was thinking of going to get my guitar so S. and I could sing Hank Williams Jr, songs.
“Where are you from?”
“Tennessee.”
“Man, I meet the coolest people from TN”.
I know.
The conversation was going well.
“When do you leave?”
At the end of the month. But I’ll be back in Spetember.
I’ll still be here I said.
I’ll see you then. Then she smiled and walked away like a movie star.
I walked back to the trailer to change out of uniform. Due to general order one I had to be incognito. Here I’ll tell what I wore one time just in case anybody wonders how I dress in Iraq. Iraqi sandals, olive cargo shorts and a red checkered Izod shirt. I carried a Cuban cigar in my shirt pocket so against that shirt it looked like a spit stain on a table cloth. I wore a blue mini-mag flashlight on my belt.
The party was under the awning out by the pool…we baked under the tin roof like potatos in an oven. But the sun went down and more people showed up. In flagrant violation of general order one we both snuck a beer from the garbage can ice chest and sat them down on the picnic table behind us everytime General S. walked by.
Toward the end of the evening we sat on the rail around the portico watching famished cats dart in and out for the crumbs of pretzels and ritz crackers. Along with an Air Force friend we told ghost stories until the stories ran dry and right as I was standing up to walk back to my trailer K. walked over. If heaven had a face hers hazel ones would be the two twinkling eyes. She is the prettiest girl in Iraq. I stood there smiling, K.’s shaply curves resting easy against the pink dress she wore with the familiar green alligator on her chest.
Then I exercised my talent for saying the dorkiest thing I can think of (without actually thinking): “I’m wearing Izod too.”
Yes, the mere fact any guy would brag about wearing Izod or even remember the manufacturer of a shirt is suspect…she should have walked away.
But I saved it by nodding toward the British guitar player and casually saying I was thinking of going to get my guitar so S. and I could sing Hank Williams Jr, songs.
“Where are you from?”
“Tennessee.”
“Man, I meet the coolest people from TN”.
I know.
The conversation was going well.
“When do you leave?”
At the end of the month. But I’ll be back in Spetember.
I’ll still be here I said.
I’ll see you then. Then she smiled and walked away like a movie star.
Friday, July 16, 2004
near beer and good-bye
Yesterday I did as near to nothing as anyone can do and still maintain office hours. I spent the morning tying up preparations for a party.
It was a going away party for SSGT R. He was a good guy who gave exemplary customer service arranging people’s flights for people who were ready to get outta Dodge. Hit the dust trail, etc…
The party was the tamest we’ve given for a going away. General Order #1 and its no alcohol policy takes the great elixir of conversation out of the picture. We sat around under the coupla eating fritos, pepsi and N/A Becks. Some people make fun of near beer but we drink so many sodas here and bottle after bottle of water that we have to whoop it up with the juice of the barley on occasion.
We presented R. with an Iraqi flag with his names and dates of tour embroidered in it, $20 at the flea market. We also presented him with a national ensign that S. and I had flown over the roof of the palace, I like to think at great peril to our personal safety. At least the guy who gave us access to the roof kept saying, “Stand over her on this side,” as we fumbled with the flag, getting it ready to display. ‘Snipers like to watch the front of the palace.”
Afterward presenting the parting gifts we sat around telling R. stories until the cheese dip was gone.
It was a going away party for SSGT R. He was a good guy who gave exemplary customer service arranging people’s flights for people who were ready to get outta Dodge. Hit the dust trail, etc…
The party was the tamest we’ve given for a going away. General Order #1 and its no alcohol policy takes the great elixir of conversation out of the picture. We sat around under the coupla eating fritos, pepsi and N/A Becks. Some people make fun of near beer but we drink so many sodas here and bottle after bottle of water that we have to whoop it up with the juice of the barley on occasion.
We presented R. with an Iraqi flag with his names and dates of tour embroidered in it, $20 at the flea market. We also presented him with a national ensign that S. and I had flown over the roof of the palace, I like to think at great peril to our personal safety. At least the guy who gave us access to the roof kept saying, “Stand over her on this side,” as we fumbled with the flag, getting it ready to display. ‘Snipers like to watch the front of the palace.”
Afterward presenting the parting gifts we sat around telling R. stories until the cheese dip was gone.
shake shake shake your boody
Went out last night for the first time since I got here in early May. S. and I took the bus over to the Al Rasheed to meet Jo and Ja, two girls from KBR. Walking up I tried to imagine what it must have been like the day before when the car bomb blew up just outside the gate…two yards from where we were now walking. On the way in, walking past that really cool, but dry fountain (a female genie talking to a young child holding a bucket) I saw my roommate and Fr. Fr didn’t remember S. and I until I asked her if she’d found my telephone. “Oh, that was you guys…” That phone is lost forever.
We walked down to the sports bar in the basement and saw Jo and Ja playing pool. They played a really long game then we played a game of doubles. We had as much fun as you can have playing pool with sticks with no tips on them. Every shot I heard the loud click of a miscue. This time it really was the sticks fault. Jo and Ja beat us.
At nine thirty they shut down the sports bar so we headed upstairs to the disco. It was loud and packed. Except for the retro colors and furniture it could have been a club in any city - Studio 54 Baghdad. I think John Travolta must have danced here in preparation for Saturday night fever. I gotta hand it to the Baathists regime – they liked their 70’s décor…so much they never changed it. But I guess updated lounge furniture and leather padded bars were hard to come by during the embargo that followed.
Then, just as the groove was clicking in The Man came in and shut the whole operation down. The head The Man was Colonel F who saw me as I walked out – “Billy P. you West Coast sailor you!” He says that everytime he sees me and its an acknowledgement that I don’t play by the rules.
We got Jo and Ja to give us a ride back. We sat by the pool back at the palace talking to a young Air Force enlisted girl. Two Army guys started singing “Show me the way to go home/I’m tired and I want to go to bed…” from Jaws, my second favorite movie. We got into a discussion of the merits of Peter Benchley’s writing. He wrote Jaws and other novels about sea monsters where marine biologists types have leading roles cast along side attractive women who wear bikinis..…its not often you find someone whose read all Benchly’s books and admits it.
Yesterday, before going out Chief R. and I held training on proper Property Book maintenance per DA regulation 735-5. It was really good training, Chief R put together an excellent Power Point presentation. But he went three minutes over our allotted hour so we got booted out of the conference room.
We walked down to the sports bar in the basement and saw Jo and Ja playing pool. They played a really long game then we played a game of doubles. We had as much fun as you can have playing pool with sticks with no tips on them. Every shot I heard the loud click of a miscue. This time it really was the sticks fault. Jo and Ja beat us.
At nine thirty they shut down the sports bar so we headed upstairs to the disco. It was loud and packed. Except for the retro colors and furniture it could have been a club in any city - Studio 54 Baghdad. I think John Travolta must have danced here in preparation for Saturday night fever. I gotta hand it to the Baathists regime – they liked their 70’s décor…so much they never changed it. But I guess updated lounge furniture and leather padded bars were hard to come by during the embargo that followed.
Then, just as the groove was clicking in The Man came in and shut the whole operation down. The head The Man was Colonel F who saw me as I walked out – “Billy P. you West Coast sailor you!” He says that everytime he sees me and its an acknowledgement that I don’t play by the rules.
We got Jo and Ja to give us a ride back. We sat by the pool back at the palace talking to a young Air Force enlisted girl. Two Army guys started singing “Show me the way to go home/I’m tired and I want to go to bed…” from Jaws, my second favorite movie. We got into a discussion of the merits of Peter Benchley’s writing. He wrote Jaws and other novels about sea monsters where marine biologists types have leading roles cast along side attractive women who wear bikinis..…its not often you find someone whose read all Benchly’s books and admits it.
Yesterday, before going out Chief R. and I held training on proper Property Book maintenance per DA regulation 735-5. It was really good training, Chief R put together an excellent Power Point presentation. But he went three minutes over our allotted hour so we got booted out of the conference room.
Wednesday, July 14, 2004
car bombs and stylish furniture
Today started with a boom. It was really loud and from the way it rattled the windows everyone in my office thought it had blown up close by, possibly the hideous fountain in front where the gryphon is holding the carp. But it turned out to be a car bomb. We could see the black smoke coming up. It must have been a really big bomb. It knocked my monitor out of adjustment – concussion.
The rest of the day I’ve looked into people’s material requests, asking probing questions, using my power to make line item vetoes. Boring stuff.
I sent up some more information today about my botched promotion. This time C. is helping me out. She’s worked in Wash. D.C. for the past year and a half and knows some admin people there. Emails about my situation have been forwarded to a flag level officer at the Pentagon. Maybe he can do something. Oddly I think the guy is an Air Force general…but aren’t they the best at admin anyway?
I don’t know what I’ll read tonight. I finished The Making of Toro last night. Excellent book but too short. I rarely say that about a book. I have a copy of Esquire – the survival issue. I can only imagine Esquire printing stories of surviving as a metrosexual male…how the Ikea catalogue didn’t show up on time, how the Swedish furniture clashed with the blue sky vodka bottle glowing softly under the track lighting of the bar – how his Italian shoes fell apart when he lost his debit card and had to walk home…but maybe they’ll have some good artic plane crash stories too.
The rest of the day I’ve looked into people’s material requests, asking probing questions, using my power to make line item vetoes. Boring stuff.
I sent up some more information today about my botched promotion. This time C. is helping me out. She’s worked in Wash. D.C. for the past year and a half and knows some admin people there. Emails about my situation have been forwarded to a flag level officer at the Pentagon. Maybe he can do something. Oddly I think the guy is an Air Force general…but aren’t they the best at admin anyway?
I don’t know what I’ll read tonight. I finished The Making of Toro last night. Excellent book but too short. I rarely say that about a book. I have a copy of Esquire – the survival issue. I can only imagine Esquire printing stories of surviving as a metrosexual male…how the Ikea catalogue didn’t show up on time, how the Swedish furniture clashed with the blue sky vodka bottle glowing softly under the track lighting of the bar – how his Italian shoes fell apart when he lost his debit card and had to walk home…but maybe they’ll have some good artic plane crash stories too.
Monday, July 12, 2004
fred sanford in baghdad
This morning I drove the big Ford Excursion over to the Convention Center. S. and C. rode along with me and marveled at my roadrage (though I usually laugh in the middle of my tirades). We parked at the road and walked to the Convention Center lobby. Its an awesome place and and I could easily imagine the Brady Bunch walking around on the burnt orange carpet inside. Being generous I’d say the place is stuck in perpetual 1978…including the old copier machines I saw stacked in the basement. I was there to assess what we should add to the U.S. Government property book and I decided we should scrap all electronics and furniture in the basement…unless Graceland needed to replace some period pieces that have worn out. The air conditioning was out. One Army captain worked at his desk sullenly. A thermomemter he had mounted there read 100 Farenheit degrees. I assured them I’d recently approved a work request to have the air conditioning replaced.
Afterwards we walked over to the Al Rasheed hotel – the place where all the rockets hit because it is such a large target. I found some ivory for sale, carved up like a half peeled ear of corn. It was heavier than I expected. I talked the sales girl down to $75 but I don’t agree with the ivory trade practices so I reluctantly walked away.
Before heading back to the palace we rode down to the crossed swords. C. and S, had been there before so they sat in the cool of the Excursion. I walked up to one of the 60 foot tall Saddam Hands and was greeted by an Iraqi policeman. To show me he was a good guy he showed me his Vote Kerry bumper sticker which he carried around in his pocket. I wanted it to stick on the Excursion.
We walked around the fist and he opened a manwhole and offered to give me a tour inside but I declined. At the base of each sword is a cornocupia shaped net full of Iranian helmets from the war with Iran (there are British and Iraqi helmets as well). They are an integral part of the art/structure. But the guy must have liked me because he pried one of the weathered helmets loose and offered to sell it to me for $5, then $4, then $3 but I didn’t really need a used helmet.
Afterwards we walked over to the Al Rasheed hotel – the place where all the rockets hit because it is such a large target. I found some ivory for sale, carved up like a half peeled ear of corn. It was heavier than I expected. I talked the sales girl down to $75 but I don’t agree with the ivory trade practices so I reluctantly walked away.
Before heading back to the palace we rode down to the crossed swords. C. and S, had been there before so they sat in the cool of the Excursion. I walked up to one of the 60 foot tall Saddam Hands and was greeted by an Iraqi policeman. To show me he was a good guy he showed me his Vote Kerry bumper sticker which he carried around in his pocket. I wanted it to stick on the Excursion.
We walked around the fist and he opened a manwhole and offered to give me a tour inside but I declined. At the base of each sword is a cornocupia shaped net full of Iranian helmets from the war with Iran (there are British and Iraqi helmets as well). They are an integral part of the art/structure. But the guy must have liked me because he pried one of the weathered helmets loose and offered to sell it to me for $5, then $4, then $3 but I didn’t really need a used helmet.
Saturday, July 10, 2004
sewage planning and rockets
The rockets hit last night - one two three – and felt like someone hitting the floor of my trailer with a baseball bat. I really thought someone next door was jumping up and down but I looked outside and saw several people looking around so I knew they were rockets though sometimes I like to think it was just somebody jumping up and down next door.
I continued reading Mark Sundeen’s book about slackerhood then fell aslepp and slept well.
The next morning I walked over to the KBR compound for a meeting to prioritize work orders. Unfortunately they decided that meeting was secondary and should be pushed back. But my friend from the State Dept said, you should set in on this one…you’ll be seeing this stuff come across your desk.
So I sat thru an hour long meeting about setting up three new sewer treatment plants in Baghdad. They have the oldest sewer conduit n the world – the Tigris River – but as one representative in the meeting put it – we want to be good stewards of the environment and for CNN purposes we need to do this.
Good answer. I found the whole thing interesting for awhile but once my coffee was gone I stared at a blank dry erase board and zoned out...like that movie Office Space.
BTW - we have good intentions but I wouldn't go swimming in the Tigris just yet.
I continued reading Mark Sundeen’s book about slackerhood then fell aslepp and slept well.
The next morning I walked over to the KBR compound for a meeting to prioritize work orders. Unfortunately they decided that meeting was secondary and should be pushed back. But my friend from the State Dept said, you should set in on this one…you’ll be seeing this stuff come across your desk.
So I sat thru an hour long meeting about setting up three new sewer treatment plants in Baghdad. They have the oldest sewer conduit n the world – the Tigris River – but as one representative in the meeting put it – we want to be good stewards of the environment and for CNN purposes we need to do this.
Good answer. I found the whole thing interesting for awhile but once my coffee was gone I stared at a blank dry erase board and zoned out...like that movie Office Space.
BTW - we have good intentions but I wouldn't go swimming in the Tigris just yet.
our british friends
After four days of writing policy, each little word painstakingly strung together from moribund Army regs I finished it up last night. No I just have to hold training with the people who will be accepting responsibility for government property and the inventory can start. Gag me with a maggot this stuff is boring.
Last Night we walked down to the Chinese restaurant for supper. It was really good. Around nine o’clock LtCol V. and SSgt Nichols left which freed S., C., and myself up to have a beer. Its bad to be breaking general order number one but it’s a stupid rule, so haphazardly applied as to be ridiculous.
We sat there until eleven thirty, three Navy people telling sea stories…it was fun.
Then this British bloke comes over and starts making eyes at C. because she 1) is attractive and 2) was the only girl there. He kept saying, “Come on Yank, let be buy yuh a drank,” and I wanted to let him but C. was ready to go and needed an S and I to escort her back to camp. I guess while we were paying the British fellow and his friend slipped out. We walked down the alley then onto the street and in front of us I saw the Brit and his buddy, teetering down the road singing, screaming, “No No Never, No No Never no more, I’ll play the wild rover…”
As they waddled slowly we caught up and over took them. Immediately my Brit friend made a B-line for C. I made sure to walk in between them but then I new I’d have to take one for the team. I let S. come in to be wingman on C. and I started singing with the british guys which immediately caused them to drop back and throw their arms around me. We sang good songs all the way to the gate. The last one was about a guy’s sombrero getting ruined by a woman.
I still have the hacking crud and runny nose while I’m in my office but yesterday afternoon working out and last night at the restaurant I wasn’t sick at all.
Last Night we walked down to the Chinese restaurant for supper. It was really good. Around nine o’clock LtCol V. and SSgt Nichols left which freed S., C., and myself up to have a beer. Its bad to be breaking general order number one but it’s a stupid rule, so haphazardly applied as to be ridiculous.
We sat there until eleven thirty, three Navy people telling sea stories…it was fun.
Then this British bloke comes over and starts making eyes at C. because she 1) is attractive and 2) was the only girl there. He kept saying, “Come on Yank, let be buy yuh a drank,” and I wanted to let him but C. was ready to go and needed an S and I to escort her back to camp. I guess while we were paying the British fellow and his friend slipped out. We walked down the alley then onto the street and in front of us I saw the Brit and his buddy, teetering down the road singing, screaming, “No No Never, No No Never no more, I’ll play the wild rover…”
As they waddled slowly we caught up and over took them. Immediately my Brit friend made a B-line for C. I made sure to walk in between them but then I new I’d have to take one for the team. I let S. come in to be wingman on C. and I started singing with the british guys which immediately caused them to drop back and throw their arms around me. We sang good songs all the way to the gate. The last one was about a guy’s sombrero getting ruined by a woman.
I still have the hacking crud and runny nose while I’m in my office but yesterday afternoon working out and last night at the restaurant I wasn’t sick at all.
Wednesday, July 07, 2004
army regs and lost sources of supply
A busy time. I’ve been writing policy getting the Property Book Accountability stuff online. I hear this is a Rumsfield interest item…I suppose it is. Its multi, many many millions of dollars worth of equipment. With my Navy background wading thru all these Army regs to figure out policy can be somewhat mind boggling.
This morning I was over at KBR talking with their reps about this Property Book business. We were standing outside shooting the breeze when the mortars starts coming in with their little “whip, thump boom” sound. There were three or four, maybe five. I hadn’t heard that sound in a few days. I suppose B. who is retired from the Army is immune to concern over mortar rounds. We saw the black smoke about 1500 meters away and all he could say was, “Uh oh, looks like they might have hit the beer store.” I hope not. The restaurant they were building there should be open soon.
Still battling the Baghdad crud and the antibiotics aren’t making any ground. Someone said I probably have allergies to stuff in the dust. There is no shortage of dust in Baghdad. I’ve thought of wearing a bandana around my nose and mouth like an outlaw…
This morning I was over at KBR talking with their reps about this Property Book business. We were standing outside shooting the breeze when the mortars starts coming in with their little “whip, thump boom” sound. There were three or four, maybe five. I hadn’t heard that sound in a few days. I suppose B. who is retired from the Army is immune to concern over mortar rounds. We saw the black smoke about 1500 meters away and all he could say was, “Uh oh, looks like they might have hit the beer store.” I hope not. The restaurant they were building there should be open soon.
Still battling the Baghdad crud and the antibiotics aren’t making any ground. Someone said I probably have allergies to stuff in the dust. There is no shortage of dust in Baghdad. I’ve thought of wearing a bandana around my nose and mouth like an outlaw…
Monday, July 05, 2004
a letter home...or at least to iceland
Happy 4th of July Keflavik!
I hope you all had a wonderful holiday. There were festivities here at the palace but I laid low. I've had the Baghdad crud for three days and so far the antibiotics haven't done much. I think it has to do with them taking away our beer priveledged with the disestablishment of CPA. Seems like all I eat anymore is coffee, water, watermelon, potato salad and chicken. Perhaps the nutrients aren't there.
Last week the turnover was very smooth. I've been posting updates lately on a new web site (a blog for KB) at www.billycargo.blogspot.com where you can read about my varying roles and activities during the process...prepare to be blown away.
Two days ago we stood up ASG officially, spear headed by COL D., USMC. A couple of generals and AMB Negraponte spoke at the event. With state dept taking over I've noticed things are a little more political around here. Last night many State Dept personnel were at the pool wearing burnt orange caps with
W
2004
sewn on them. From their shape and color I thought they were a gift from GAP to personnel stationed over seas until it clicked, oh yeah. They also handed out letters from people in the United States. Mine was from a girl who I assume was in high school. It was written on snowman stationery and she kept saying I'm sorry you can't be home for the holidays which I took to be a bad omen.
At the end of this month I'll officially start my countdown. 01 Aug is hump day...90 days out.
V/r,
Billy
I hope you all had a wonderful holiday. There were festivities here at the palace but I laid low. I've had the Baghdad crud for three days and so far the antibiotics haven't done much. I think it has to do with them taking away our beer priveledged with the disestablishment of CPA. Seems like all I eat anymore is coffee, water, watermelon, potato salad and chicken. Perhaps the nutrients aren't there.
Last week the turnover was very smooth. I've been posting updates lately on a new web site (a blog for KB) at www.billycargo.blogspot.com where you can read about my varying roles and activities during the process...prepare to be blown away.
Two days ago we stood up ASG officially, spear headed by COL D., USMC. A couple of generals and AMB Negraponte spoke at the event. With state dept taking over I've noticed things are a little more political around here. Last night many State Dept personnel were at the pool wearing burnt orange caps with
W
2004
sewn on them. From their shape and color I thought they were a gift from GAP to personnel stationed over seas until it clicked, oh yeah. They also handed out letters from people in the United States. Mine was from a girl who I assume was in high school. It was written on snowman stationery and she kept saying I'm sorry you can't be home for the holidays which I took to be a bad omen.
At the end of this month I'll officially start my countdown. 01 Aug is hump day...90 days out.
V/r,
Billy
Thursday, July 01, 2004
hearts and peroxide
Last night was the last day we expected bad stuff to happen so to celebrate S. and I went over to J.’s new trailer and played hearts. Very pleasant, sitting under palm trees, surrounded by aluminum and sand bags…this is the new battlefield.
I have never played hearts that I can remember so J. explained the game to me then we played a hand. I lost abysmally and she suggested we play something else. We played hearts again but this time with all our cards out in the open, she explaining her motives for the cards she played. She and S. started making jokes about me and the short bus but I figured it out and eventually came in second. Vindication!
Today I got my hair cut and just went back to my trailer to wash out my ears with hydrogen peroxide. I’ve had two ear infections in the last month so starting yesterday I began using hydrogen peroxide to combat the Baghdad funk I get from the blowing dirt and the swimming pool. It feels cold at first when I pour it down my ear then it fizzles and is really an odd sensation. Afterwards I tilt my head and it runs out. The ear pain I woke up with yesterday morning went away within a couple of hours after using H2 O2 so it must work. I’ve heard it can be used internally as an antibiotic as well but haven’t found out how to do that yet.
I have never played hearts that I can remember so J. explained the game to me then we played a hand. I lost abysmally and she suggested we play something else. We played hearts again but this time with all our cards out in the open, she explaining her motives for the cards she played. She and S. started making jokes about me and the short bus but I figured it out and eventually came in second. Vindication!
Today I got my hair cut and just went back to my trailer to wash out my ears with hydrogen peroxide. I’ve had two ear infections in the last month so starting yesterday I began using hydrogen peroxide to combat the Baghdad funk I get from the blowing dirt and the swimming pool. It feels cold at first when I pour it down my ear then it fizzles and is really an odd sensation. Afterwards I tilt my head and it runs out. The ear pain I woke up with yesterday morning went away within a couple of hours after using H2 O2 so it must work. I’ve heard it can be used internally as an antibiotic as well but haven’t found out how to do that yet.
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