Tuesday, August 05, 2008
Promotion Pics
Some have chastised me for putting up pictures of my toe vice pictures of my promotion--I don't know why!?!? In any case, I have a good excuse, namely, I had pictures of my toes and I didn't have pictures of my promotion... at least until yesterday. Once again, all last week my office computer was off the network, so I had no e-mail or other connectivity, so I never go the pictures of my promotion until yesterday... woe is me... without further ado (and without toes), here they are:
Monday, August 04, 2008
Relief!!!
They call it TOA (transfer of authority) or RIP (relief in place) or RIPTOA (you guessed it....); but, whatever you call it, my replacement arrived last night--YIPEE!! This can only be good news!
Although he was notified far in advance when he was supposed to deploy, you never count on military movements to be on time (early or late--usually the latter). But, nevertheless, I allowed myself to get excited when I found out that he had actually left for the processing station in California (I left California for the mobilization processing station in Virginia, he leaves Virginia for the mobilization station in California--that is the military decision making process in action!) and told Peg the planned timeline... BAM! The third of July was a nasty surprise when he called and said he had arrived in California and processed, but was medically disqualified.... doh!
This is why military timelines for deployment (and re-deployment) are NOT a good idea.... at least not on an individual level... maybe on an army-of-liberation-level it will work.... we shall see...
Regardless, facing the Fourth of July weekend and a replacement that was non-deployable was distressing! It was a distinct possibility that either The Replacement would be a minimum of a month late or not come at all.... because they wouldn't allow him to continue on to the training at Fort Jackson--the same place I had so much fun back in January--without being medically cleared. But, lights at the end of the tunnels shine brightest in our darkest hours... or something like that. There is a waiver process that we went through, complete with about ten miles of red tape and gnashing of teeth and scratching of claws (good for cutting through the red tape). So, they--eventually--agreed to let him continue on to Fort Jackson while the waiver process wended its way through the system.
But, I KNEW something was going to happen to facilitate me going home. Because my Toe Time told me it was time to go home. Remember the sphincter of despair, the donught of misery--excel charts that people use to track their deployments... they look like this...
Well, on this deployment I decided to use a different chronometer. In the preparation for deployment (at least I think it was then, it makes for a better story, so I am sticking with that) I was moving bits around the garage, reorganizing in an attempt to make the work bench usable by Peg as a shipping/mailing center--purely selfish on my part, I like getting stuff in the mail! Anyway, during the moving about of a Heavy Object my big left toe was damaged, complete with blood blister under the nail. These things generally take about 6 months to grow out, so I thought, "Perfect! I will be ready to go home when the blood spot in my left big toenail is gone." Well, here a few picts to show its progression, but you can clearly see that as of last week it was gone! So I KNOW that it is toe TOA time!
Although he was notified far in advance when he was supposed to deploy, you never count on military movements to be on time (early or late--usually the latter). But, nevertheless, I allowed myself to get excited when I found out that he had actually left for the processing station in California (I left California for the mobilization processing station in Virginia, he leaves Virginia for the mobilization station in California--that is the military decision making process in action!) and told Peg the planned timeline... BAM! The third of July was a nasty surprise when he called and said he had arrived in California and processed, but was medically disqualified.... doh!
This is why military timelines for deployment (and re-deployment) are NOT a good idea.... at least not on an individual level... maybe on an army-of-liberation-level it will work.... we shall see...
Regardless, facing the Fourth of July weekend and a replacement that was non-deployable was distressing! It was a distinct possibility that either The Replacement would be a minimum of a month late or not come at all.... because they wouldn't allow him to continue on to the training at Fort Jackson--the same place I had so much fun back in January--without being medically cleared. But, lights at the end of the tunnels shine brightest in our darkest hours... or something like that. There is a waiver process that we went through, complete with about ten miles of red tape and gnashing of teeth and scratching of claws (good for cutting through the red tape). So, they--eventually--agreed to let him continue on to Fort Jackson while the waiver process wended its way through the system.
But, I KNEW something was going to happen to facilitate me going home. Because my Toe Time told me it was time to go home. Remember the sphincter of despair, the donught of misery--excel charts that people use to track their deployments... they look like this...
Well, on this deployment I decided to use a different chronometer. In the preparation for deployment (at least I think it was then, it makes for a better story, so I am sticking with that) I was moving bits around the garage, reorganizing in an attempt to make the work bench usable by Peg as a shipping/mailing center--purely selfish on my part, I like getting stuff in the mail! Anyway, during the moving about of a Heavy Object my big left toe was damaged, complete with blood blister under the nail. These things generally take about 6 months to grow out, so I thought, "Perfect! I will be ready to go home when the blood spot in my left big toenail is gone." Well, here a few picts to show its progression, but you can clearly see that as of last week it was gone! So I KNOW that it is toe TOA time!
Friday, August 01, 2008
Promotion!
Well, today was the day... I finally qualify for the single CHU I have been living in this whole time! Promotion seems a bit anti-climactic after the initial excitement of the selection announcement nearly 14 months ago... but, still, it is an important event in one's military career, so it was nice that my Army Family took the time to put on a proper ceremony complete with flags and the oath of office and the pinning. In this uniform the ranks are held on with velcro; this certainly makes the symbolic (and actual) changing of the ranks a fair bit easier than the pinning that previously occurred.... and thank goodness, I think my chest is skinny enough that I would get a pneumothorax with any of the "traditional" pinning ceremonies! Funny, but this is actually my first real promotion ceremony. The day I graduated medical school PEg and the kids and I went down to the recruiters office in downtown Pittsburgh (I was in nice civilian clothes post-graduation) and signed a piece of paper and took and oath, but it was mostly a quick formality. (BTW, that promotion was from O-1, ensign, to O-3, lieutenant; there is a special name for that besides promotion, but it escapes me at the moment.) My next promotion occurred just before leaving Maryland to move to San Diego; I just walked into an office, signed a piece of paper and was on my way, nothing to it. So, again, nice that the Army made more of a deal about the whole thing than I would have expected.
I think the bit I am most excited about is that I will now get a chance to wear the CDR insignia that JP gave me so many years ago--that will be worth the 14 month wait.
Anyway, I am now officially much more handsome, significantly smarter, and all around improved!
I think the bit I am most excited about is that I will now get a chance to wear the CDR insignia that JP gave me so many years ago--that will be worth the 14 month wait.
Anyway, I am now officially much more handsome, significantly smarter, and all around improved!
Sunday, July 27, 2008
ChessMaster 3000
Today was sleepy. I got up early to go run, but the dust was VERY thick in the air, so I went back to bed and slept--I think I needed because I ended sleeping an extra three hours! I had stayed up late the night before working on a talk for a conference that is coming up this next week.
I ate steamed rice and sardines for lunch... yummy!
Luckily the dust has cut some of the heat, because it has been crazy hot here this last week, which has really cut down on the running--so tomorrow morning should be good. So, instead of working out today, I played chess tonight. It turns out that on the other side of base (you have to drive there) there is a chess tournament the last Sunday of every month... So, I went, and I won! Undefeated! Imagine that! For a prize I got what every young military man wants: a Halo 3 t-shirt... perfect for the chess master that has everything!
I ate steamed rice and sardines for lunch... yummy!
Luckily the dust has cut some of the heat, because it has been crazy hot here this last week, which has really cut down on the running--so tomorrow morning should be good. So, instead of working out today, I played chess tonight. It turns out that on the other side of base (you have to drive there) there is a chess tournament the last Sunday of every month... So, I went, and I won! Undefeated! Imagine that! For a prize I got what every young military man wants: a Halo 3 t-shirt... perfect for the chess master that has everything!
Monday, July 21, 2008
irony supplement
I read a review of the new Indiana Jones movie just prior to it coming out... it mentioned that the third installment of that series ended with Indy and gang riding off into the sunset-intimating the end, a finale, no more to follow... As I left Iraq in 2005 I distinctly recall savoring the sunset my last night, secure in the knowledge that I was at the end, the finale, no more to follow... that I wouldn't return to Iraq for a long, long time, if at all...
Fast forward two years, the next movie in a series that ended over a decade ago is released, and I am watching it on a pirated DVD because I am, of all things, back in Iraq, where--despite the US government's official stance on copyright violation--locals sell pirated movies with impunity to the troops...
The only reason I am watching a movie that I didn't think would be made, on a pirated disc that I shouldn't posses, is because I am someplace I didn't expect to be... odd...
Of course, today Obama is in Iraq too... I wonder if he thought he would end up here... knowing my luck so far, he will be elected, make peace break out in Iraq, and it will be such a nice place that the "non-combat" troops--of which I am decidedly one--will stay for the next 100 years... I may have plenty of chances to come back... more movies!
Fast forward two years, the next movie in a series that ended over a decade ago is released, and I am watching it on a pirated DVD because I am, of all things, back in Iraq, where--despite the US government's official stance on copyright violation--locals sell pirated movies with impunity to the troops...
The only reason I am watching a movie that I didn't think would be made, on a pirated disc that I shouldn't posses, is because I am someplace I didn't expect to be... odd...
Of course, today Obama is in Iraq too... I wonder if he thought he would end up here... knowing my luck so far, he will be elected, make peace break out in Iraq, and it will be such a nice place that the "non-combat" troops--of which I am decidedly one--will stay for the next 100 years... I may have plenty of chances to come back... more movies!
Sunday, July 20, 2008
More Running Commentary
So, it turns out that today is Guam Liberation Day... Or, rather, Guam Liberation Celebration Day--the actual day is tomorrow. So the Island contingent here--which isn't tiny in any sense of the word; except for the one very short local Hawaiian wahine Army CPT from my unit--is putting on one heck of a BBQ complete with BBQ whole fish, Island Music, and volleyball... Hafa dai!... the Guam version of Aloha!
Today was also another long run day--more marathon preparation. I have been training well, lots of speed work and plenty of long distances--not so long as my crazy-in-a-good way buddy Dave (see previous post and comment). And, there have been lots of races too; 5 or 5K races, two 10K races including a mirror race of the Atlanta, GA, Peachtree 10K two weeks ago, and last weekend was a mirror race of the Utica, NY, Boilermaker 15K--who races 15K?? Regardless, it doesn't matter since every race here is a different distance--that's right, even all the 5Ks are different distances--even when they start from the same damn place... they move the starting posts and finishing posts somewhat randomly up and down the block! The only consistent aspect of the 5K race here is that in the first 20 and/or 100 meters there will be a 90° left turn that will bunch the start up like you read about...
But, even with all this running I am getting slower! I think (hope!) that it has to do with the fact that is has only gotten warmer while I have been here, and that once I get to San Diego, the cool ocean air will allow me to regain some semblance of running faster than a Death Valley death march...
BTW, recall that previously I mentioned that I occasionally hear gunfire while running and I optimistically believe that it is from a range somewhere in the distance? Well, turns out I was right to be optimistic. the other day I found, quite by accident the very range in question. I was out for a long run by myself, cruising down the road in a part of base that I had not visited before when all of a sudden there was a LOT of gunfire very near--right ahead... I actually stopped and though, "Frack, do I keep running towards the gunfire? Do I dive down into the ditch? do I turn around and run like hell the other way?" While I was mulling these questions over, I stood still with that deer in the headlights look--except that my wide open eyes were darting about and spied, up ahead, to the right, the tell-tale markings of a range! There were people on the range firing M-16 rifles and M-9 pistols. Good news! Except of course, that when people are practicing on a range, there are usually some yahoos out there that aren't so familiar with how to handle a weapon--I felt safe enough to run past the range (behind it you understand), but I kept a good pace!
There are other, much different sounds that one occasionally hears while running in Baghdad... There is a neighborhood on the other side of the twenty foot walls the separate some of the base from the outside city--in that neighborhood I imagine a playground... more of a dirt field actually... I haven't seen it, but I often here children playing soccer there--at least that is what it sounds like... it sounds like fun.
Then there is The Sound. If I run at the right time of day, usually very early in the morning or later in the evening, the mosque in that very same neighborhood that has children playing soccer will announce the call to prayer. Now, I know that Islam is not as old as, say, Christianity, but The Sound, the Adhan, is otherworldly... it sounds ancient... primeval... it literally grabs me by the base of my spine (try running with something grabbing your spine!) and simultaneously lifts me up (it is spiritual, awe inspiring) and pulls me down hard (I am in freaking Iraq! Again!).
Today was also another long run day--more marathon preparation. I have been training well, lots of speed work and plenty of long distances--not so long as my crazy-in-a-good way buddy Dave (see previous post and comment). And, there have been lots of races too; 5 or 5K races, two 10K races including a mirror race of the Atlanta, GA, Peachtree 10K two weeks ago, and last weekend was a mirror race of the Utica, NY, Boilermaker 15K--who races 15K?? Regardless, it doesn't matter since every race here is a different distance--that's right, even all the 5Ks are different distances--even when they start from the same damn place... they move the starting posts and finishing posts somewhat randomly up and down the block! The only consistent aspect of the 5K race here is that in the first 20 and/or 100 meters there will be a 90° left turn that will bunch the start up like you read about...
But, even with all this running I am getting slower! I think (hope!) that it has to do with the fact that is has only gotten warmer while I have been here, and that once I get to San Diego, the cool ocean air will allow me to regain some semblance of running faster than a Death Valley death march...
BTW, recall that previously I mentioned that I occasionally hear gunfire while running and I optimistically believe that it is from a range somewhere in the distance? Well, turns out I was right to be optimistic. the other day I found, quite by accident the very range in question. I was out for a long run by myself, cruising down the road in a part of base that I had not visited before when all of a sudden there was a LOT of gunfire very near--right ahead... I actually stopped and though, "Frack, do I keep running towards the gunfire? Do I dive down into the ditch? do I turn around and run like hell the other way?" While I was mulling these questions over, I stood still with that deer in the headlights look--except that my wide open eyes were darting about and spied, up ahead, to the right, the tell-tale markings of a range! There were people on the range firing M-16 rifles and M-9 pistols. Good news! Except of course, that when people are practicing on a range, there are usually some yahoos out there that aren't so familiar with how to handle a weapon--I felt safe enough to run past the range (behind it you understand), but I kept a good pace!
There are other, much different sounds that one occasionally hears while running in Baghdad... There is a neighborhood on the other side of the twenty foot walls the separate some of the base from the outside city--in that neighborhood I imagine a playground... more of a dirt field actually... I haven't seen it, but I often here children playing soccer there--at least that is what it sounds like... it sounds like fun.
Then there is The Sound. If I run at the right time of day, usually very early in the morning or later in the evening, the mosque in that very same neighborhood that has children playing soccer will announce the call to prayer. Now, I know that Islam is not as old as, say, Christianity, but The Sound, the Adhan, is otherworldly... it sounds ancient... primeval... it literally grabs me by the base of my spine (try running with something grabbing your spine!) and simultaneously lifts me up (it is spiritual, awe inspiring) and pulls me down hard (I am in freaking Iraq! Again!).
Friday, July 18, 2008
Connected
While I was deployed in 2005 and Peg was pregnant I spent some of my time, like now, reading. One of the things that I like to read is New Scientist magazine...
One article was troubling to me, it mentioned that there seems to be some benefit to father's being around during the pregnancy/before the
birth; these father's tend to bond better (however that is measured) with their babies; the theory is that the mother induces bonding receptiveness/behavior in the father via pheromones--tricky! I was a might concerned that when I got back and Izzy was born I might not have been appropriately pheromonally prepped for such a momentous occasion. Turns out, everything was just fine--Peg must have some powerful pheromones, or the article was a bunch of malarkey...
Pheromones aside, there was another article in New Scientist at the beginning of this deployment that said teen age girls have "better outcomes" (less drugs, sex, and rock n roll) when their fathers are around... I need to get home soon to keep Sid on the righteous path--just by the power of my presence!
In an attempt to maintain a bond with the baby, to keep the teen daughter on the straight and narrow, to be present, and to stay connected we have used the power of the internets...
There is significantly more connectivity on this deployment compared to last... actually, the connectivity is similar, but what I am allowed to do with it is different. Last time there was no private, personal network that I could log onto, and so there was no video chatting... video chatting makes all the difference!
At first she was happy to see me in the video chat--obvious delight.
Then, she found it boring... and spent chat time ignoring...
In the last two months she has been much more interactive; she is speaking a mile a minute and we have even played peek-a-boo through video chat; virtual tickling is better than no tickling at all.
Now when she hears the computer at home beep with an incoming request for a video chat she lets Peg know that Daddy is calling. Alas,
sometimes the technology isn't so good--or rather, the bandwidth isn't enough to support the technology and the video chat quality is poor.
That is what happened the other morning when I called to chat--there was intermittent video and the audio was bad. So, Izzy told Peg that "Daddy is broken"... Out of the mouths of babes...
Now, all of this connectedness comes with a price... Is a two year old better off without regular reminders that Daddy isn't around? This seems to make the reunion more difficult, but perhaps the separation is easier for her if she "forgets". On the other hand, I selfishly prefer that she does remember me and miss me! Occasionally she does something that breaks your heart, like standing next to my picture and crying... and answering the leading question of "do you miss daddy?" with vigorous head-nodding assent. But the beauty of a two year old is they have the attention span of a gnat--actually gnats can be pretty tenacious in trying to get in your nose, eyes and ears--so I guess the beauty of a two year old is that they have the attention span of a two year old. They can be missing you one second and then be happy as a lark the next and for the rest of the day. And, happy as can be to play via the internets... I will let you know how the reunion goes--one month!
One article was troubling to me, it mentioned that there seems to be some benefit to father's being around during the pregnancy/before the
birth; these father's tend to bond better (however that is measured) with their babies; the theory is that the mother induces bonding receptiveness/behavior in the father via pheromones--tricky! I was a might concerned that when I got back and Izzy was born I might not have been appropriately pheromonally prepped for such a momentous occasion. Turns out, everything was just fine--Peg must have some powerful pheromones, or the article was a bunch of malarkey...
Pheromones aside, there was another article in New Scientist at the beginning of this deployment that said teen age girls have "better outcomes" (less drugs, sex, and rock n roll) when their fathers are around... I need to get home soon to keep Sid on the righteous path--just by the power of my presence!
In an attempt to maintain a bond with the baby, to keep the teen daughter on the straight and narrow, to be present, and to stay connected we have used the power of the internets...
There is significantly more connectivity on this deployment compared to last... actually, the connectivity is similar, but what I am allowed to do with it is different. Last time there was no private, personal network that I could log onto, and so there was no video chatting... video chatting makes all the difference!
At first she was happy to see me in the video chat--obvious delight.
Then, she found it boring... and spent chat time ignoring...
In the last two months she has been much more interactive; she is speaking a mile a minute and we have even played peek-a-boo through video chat; virtual tickling is better than no tickling at all.
Now when she hears the computer at home beep with an incoming request for a video chat she lets Peg know that Daddy is calling. Alas,
sometimes the technology isn't so good--or rather, the bandwidth isn't enough to support the technology and the video chat quality is poor.
That is what happened the other morning when I called to chat--there was intermittent video and the audio was bad. So, Izzy told Peg that "Daddy is broken"... Out of the mouths of babes...
Now, all of this connectedness comes with a price... Is a two year old better off without regular reminders that Daddy isn't around? This seems to make the reunion more difficult, but perhaps the separation is easier for her if she "forgets". On the other hand, I selfishly prefer that she does remember me and miss me! Occasionally she does something that breaks your heart, like standing next to my picture and crying... and answering the leading question of "do you miss daddy?" with vigorous head-nodding assent. But the beauty of a two year old is they have the attention span of a gnat--actually gnats can be pretty tenacious in trying to get in your nose, eyes and ears--so I guess the beauty of a two year old is that they have the attention span of a two year old. They can be missing you one second and then be happy as a lark the next and for the rest of the day. And, happy as can be to play via the internets... I will let you know how the reunion goes--one month!
Monday, July 14, 2008
Disconnected
This morning started out as one of those mornings.... I was walking to work (BTW, that is the best part of being in Iraq is the fact that my commute consists of a 5 minute walk-not through the prettiest area in the world, and not without the danger of things falling from the sky, but a walk instead of a drive nonetheless) and thinking that I had just about a month left here and thinking about all the work that I needed (wanted may be a better word here--they should let me come home whether I get it done or not!) to get done prior to leaving. And, then, because I have been in the military too long, thinking of all the ways that getting home in a month could get changed "for the needs of the Army/Navy/DoD"... Anyway, as the Poi Dog Pondering song says, "I feel so detached today", that's how it was...
And then I get into work and the internet is down! Talk about being detached! The internet is our lifeline, our umbilical cord, source of information and succor--e-mail, news, weather, even (for some--not me though, honest!?!?) celebrity gossip. After about two hours the internet came up for everyone else on base, but my computer seemed to have taken it hard. It never came back--it was unconnectable and unusable for anything! I, who strive to keep my life digital, to do lists, projects, e-mails past and present all reside on my computer... I was truly disconnected. And, my phone is a voip phone so it was out too!
I was able to take pen to paper and make progress on a number of projects, but the progress is limited until I can type and share the things I have written.
Luckily, over the weekend Apple unleashed the new iPhone operating system and the Application store with plenty of free things, including games! I was connected over the weekend. Take a new video game on your iPhone, a computer that doesn't work, a phone that won't ring and you have yourself very non-productive day! Sure is fun though!
At least until later in the afternoon when the hordes realize that the phone across the way does work and they start calling you through that line--damn! (I don't want to tell you how many calls--and I cannot tell you how many e-mails, for obvious reasons--I got this afternoon about chicken pox--my, oh, my--people get excited about the strangest things!
Tomorrow they are going to "re-image" my computer... that doesn't give me a warm-fuzzy... I may never get un-disconnected.
And then I get into work and the internet is down! Talk about being detached! The internet is our lifeline, our umbilical cord, source of information and succor--e-mail, news, weather, even (for some--not me though, honest!?!?) celebrity gossip. After about two hours the internet came up for everyone else on base, but my computer seemed to have taken it hard. It never came back--it was unconnectable and unusable for anything! I, who strive to keep my life digital, to do lists, projects, e-mails past and present all reside on my computer... I was truly disconnected. And, my phone is a voip phone so it was out too!
I was able to take pen to paper and make progress on a number of projects, but the progress is limited until I can type and share the things I have written.
Luckily, over the weekend Apple unleashed the new iPhone operating system and the Application store with plenty of free things, including games! I was connected over the weekend. Take a new video game on your iPhone, a computer that doesn't work, a phone that won't ring and you have yourself very non-productive day! Sure is fun though!
At least until later in the afternoon when the hordes realize that the phone across the way does work and they start calling you through that line--damn! (I don't want to tell you how many calls--and I cannot tell you how many e-mails, for obvious reasons--I got this afternoon about chicken pox--my, oh, my--people get excited about the strangest things!
Tomorrow they are going to "re-image" my computer... that doesn't give me a warm-fuzzy... I may never get un-disconnected.
Monday, July 07, 2008
One of My Daily Activities...
So, in addition to sitting all day in front of a computer--connected to various, data-limited databases--answering questions like "how many cases of this disease do we have?" and "what is the rate of that disease?" and "how do I make a graph of this?" or "how do make a graph of that?" or "how do I make a graph of this AND that?", I also have a day job as a talking head for Fox News... to wit:
I tired to embed a copy of the video here, but didn't have the bandwidth to upload, and cannot figure out how to embed from where it is--so you will have to click this link... http://gallery.mac.com/dfaix#100161
Now, I wasn't at my most eloquent during this interview... In fact, I am quite sure that I said "stanima" when I meant, of course, to say "stamina", but the editors didn't make me look too foolish... another small kindness in the world...
Thursday, July 03, 2008
Uniform Issue
I finally got a new uniform! Well, I actually got it about a month and a half ago, but I have been waiting for the right time to break the news to you... Some of you may have noticed in the picture posted a couple days ago (the one in the sexy hat) that I am wearing a different uniform than in the below picture (taken in Iraq in 2005--what is it about deploying to Iraq that makes people want to give me knit hats?? I rarely get knot hats when I am NOT deployed--I wonder what that means?)
The week I arrived my adoptive Army unit placed an order for a set of ACUs--Army Combat Uniform--10 weeks later it arrived. (These are the logistics that win wars!) This is the new digital uniform that is supposed to work for either a forrest or desert environment--it has a bit of grey/brown and a bit of green in the pattern. As opposed to the Marine Corps digital uniforms where they made one for the desert and one for the foliage. Most people complain that the ACU simply works equally poorly in both environments. Regardless, the uniform is lighter weight and has way better pockets than the old fashioned DCU--desert camouflage uniform--that I am wearing currently. And, although no one has told me officially, I assume I am allowed to wear the uniform because I am assigned to an Army unit. In fact, several people in my unit have asked if I am allowed to wear it and I confidently tell them "yes, as far as you know!" and they buy it. Frankly, it is about time that the Navy went with these new fashionable digital uniforms; I mean, only the Macedonians, the El Salvadorans and the US Navy are still wearing the analogue beast of a uniform--it is so last war... so Desert Shield...
I was concerned that they might try and stick me with the Army PT (physical training) uniform too--these Army guys have a rule and a uniform for everything! But, when I opened the box of uniform supplies that arrived this week there wasn't anything resembling the Army PT uniform in there--I would hate to have to explain to people how I am authorized to wear the ACU--a better uniform than I am currently wearing--but not the Army PT uniform--definitely worse than my current civilian PT clothes! the rest of the Army guys in the unit are jealous that I get away with wearing civilian PT clothes to go running in, but really, those nasty cotton shirts and horrible shorts would not do for a long run--there have to be some benefits to being an IA.
The Army is actually allowed to wear their PT uniform to the chow hall to eat in--or even go to work! The Marines never allowed that kind of action. So, occasionally, I change from my clearly civilian PT clothes into something that resembles a PT uniform for the navy--a brown t-shirt and green or blue shorts--to get food from the chowhall in my PTs. The green shorts are for when you are with the Marines, the blue for the navy. One Marine colonel did try to yell at me--speak sharply? Heck, he was pretty nice--for wearing green (USMC) PT shorts to the chowhall because the Marines, even on this base where everyone else wears PT clothes to the chowhall, are not allowed to do so. I thought about justifying my attire by saying that this is my PT uniform (though there really isn't one) and that I am stationed with the Army so my boss says I can wear my PT uniform to the chowhall, and so on and so forth, but I thought the better of it, smiled and said "understood, sir!" and went on my merry way. Since then I have endeavored to be in the blue shorts and brown t-shirt when going to the chowhall in my PT uniform (which is rarely), but I haven't seen the guy again anyway... no worries
But, the Navy is supposed to come out with a new PT uniform this year, phased introduction and the intro for CENTCOM--where I am--was advertised as this spring, but I haven't seen it around yet. I hope I get out of here before they advertise that widely, because the shirt is bright yellow--who the heck wants to wear a bright yellow shirt around in Iraq--that is just a temptation to any would-be snipers in the area--forget that... for me, there won't be an "official" Navy PT uniform until I leave this place, and likely not even then!
The week I arrived my adoptive Army unit placed an order for a set of ACUs--Army Combat Uniform--10 weeks later it arrived. (These are the logistics that win wars!) This is the new digital uniform that is supposed to work for either a forrest or desert environment--it has a bit of grey/brown and a bit of green in the pattern. As opposed to the Marine Corps digital uniforms where they made one for the desert and one for the foliage. Most people complain that the ACU simply works equally poorly in both environments. Regardless, the uniform is lighter weight and has way better pockets than the old fashioned DCU--desert camouflage uniform--that I am wearing currently. And, although no one has told me officially, I assume I am allowed to wear the uniform because I am assigned to an Army unit. In fact, several people in my unit have asked if I am allowed to wear it and I confidently tell them "yes, as far as you know!" and they buy it. Frankly, it is about time that the Navy went with these new fashionable digital uniforms; I mean, only the Macedonians, the El Salvadorans and the US Navy are still wearing the analogue beast of a uniform--it is so last war... so Desert Shield...
I was concerned that they might try and stick me with the Army PT (physical training) uniform too--these Army guys have a rule and a uniform for everything! But, when I opened the box of uniform supplies that arrived this week there wasn't anything resembling the Army PT uniform in there--I would hate to have to explain to people how I am authorized to wear the ACU--a better uniform than I am currently wearing--but not the Army PT uniform--definitely worse than my current civilian PT clothes! the rest of the Army guys in the unit are jealous that I get away with wearing civilian PT clothes to go running in, but really, those nasty cotton shirts and horrible shorts would not do for a long run--there have to be some benefits to being an IA.
The Army is actually allowed to wear their PT uniform to the chow hall to eat in--or even go to work! The Marines never allowed that kind of action. So, occasionally, I change from my clearly civilian PT clothes into something that resembles a PT uniform for the navy--a brown t-shirt and green or blue shorts--to get food from the chowhall in my PTs. The green shorts are for when you are with the Marines, the blue for the navy. One Marine colonel did try to yell at me--speak sharply? Heck, he was pretty nice--for wearing green (USMC) PT shorts to the chowhall because the Marines, even on this base where everyone else wears PT clothes to the chowhall, are not allowed to do so. I thought about justifying my attire by saying that this is my PT uniform (though there really isn't one) and that I am stationed with the Army so my boss says I can wear my PT uniform to the chowhall, and so on and so forth, but I thought the better of it, smiled and said "understood, sir!" and went on my merry way. Since then I have endeavored to be in the blue shorts and brown t-shirt when going to the chowhall in my PT uniform (which is rarely), but I haven't seen the guy again anyway... no worries
But, the Navy is supposed to come out with a new PT uniform this year, phased introduction and the intro for CENTCOM--where I am--was advertised as this spring, but I haven't seen it around yet. I hope I get out of here before they advertise that widely, because the shirt is bright yellow--who the heck wants to wear a bright yellow shirt around in Iraq--that is just a temptation to any would-be snipers in the area--forget that... for me, there won't be an "official" Navy PT uniform until I leave this place, and likely not even then!
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Multi-media thanks!
I am not sure how this crew did it, but I suspect some sort of black magic:
Because, I got a great box from them and others at NHRC last week, but it included one of the cows that you see in the picture! I am sure all these cows were normal sized before they got ahold of them. Perhaps they used some sort of shrinking ray--after all, as Arthur C. Clarke said, any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic...
But, the rest of the stuff in the box was cool enough to distract me from thinking too deeply on the ethics of shrinking cows and sending them half-way 'round the world to a place with absolutely no grass... In this picture you can see the cow, but you also see me wearing a spiffy new hat and shirt (one is hand-knit and the other is filled with excellent preventive medicine advice from the UCSD/SDSU residency program).
In the above picture I am in deep thought trying to figure out if a particular smell is gasoline or roses--part of a smell identification test that was in the box--this test kept the entire office busy for the afternoon--we don't smell much except for dust , port-o-potties, and deep-fried food around here--so any other smells are welcome! I will say that some of the folks in the office are nasalogists--they could identify every smell with uncanny accuracy without even looking at the choices--others of us were... let's just say... less good.
When I deployed back in January the whole thing happened rather quickly, so fast in fact that I left without a goodbye card that the good folks at NHRC had prepped for me--so they sent two cards in this package--it is actually quite satisfying to get these cards when I am closer to the coming home than the leaving home--makes it seem like they might actually miss me and want me back at work! ;-) But wait! There's more! A balsa wood glider--we almost took out a colonel's eye flying that about the office! Disney's The Jungle Book (a great movie!) Animal Crackers (actually visible in the picture above sitting on the box)--but the animal crackers themselves are the exact same as all the other animal crackers you have ever eaten--there was a camel--I don't remember a camel in The Jungle Book! I had been looking forward to eating the buzzards--that would have been awesome! Gigantic (and quite hot) Red Hots--horse suppository sized... scary! Some excellent reading material--magazines and a book that I am excited to read, The Judas Strain--it seems to have an intrepid epidemiologist/scientist as its hero--it has to be good! Miso soup, popcorn, and chopsticks--you figure it out... And lots of lovely notes to read ;-)
Now, a while ago I briefly mentioned that my grandpa had sent a picture and experimental notes on a spiffy Sterling engine (go here to see a video, go here to read about Stirling Engines ).
What I didn't mention is that Grandpa had also recently gotten a new iMac and I challenged him to use its built-in camera and software to make a quick movie of the Stirling engine in action. Instead--and he assures me this wasn't a deliberate tweak--took a digital picture and typed up the experimental notes on the computer, printed the picture and the notes and then snail-mailed them to me in Iraq! Ha! But, the fact is that he did use the computer, just not in the way I imagined! Anyway, that mention of the Stirling engine was enough for the package from work to include a whoopee cushion, a gender-confused doll, and another fine example of using heat (or temperature differentials) to drive motion--the world-famous drinking bird... I have included all three in the video below for your viewing pleasure (note the whoopee cushion is heard and not seen...)
The last thing I will mention is that the Army folks in the office here were quite impressed with the whole package--and they were amazed that everyone at my work would know that things I might enjoy most were fit for a four-year old, but once I reminded them that I work with these folks regularly and they are intimately familiar with my level of maturity and humor, it all made perfect sense! After all, laughter is the best medicine... and it may be the best preventitative medicine too, right after clean water, sewage systems, vaccines and antibiotics...
Because, I got a great box from them and others at NHRC last week, but it included one of the cows that you see in the picture! I am sure all these cows were normal sized before they got ahold of them. Perhaps they used some sort of shrinking ray--after all, as Arthur C. Clarke said, any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic...But, the rest of the stuff in the box was cool enough to distract me from thinking too deeply on the ethics of shrinking cows and sending them half-way 'round the world to a place with absolutely no grass... In this picture you can see the cow, but you also see me wearing a spiffy new hat and shirt (one is hand-knit and the other is filled with excellent preventive medicine advice from the UCSD/SDSU residency program).
In the above picture I am in deep thought trying to figure out if a particular smell is gasoline or roses--part of a smell identification test that was in the box--this test kept the entire office busy for the afternoon--we don't smell much except for dust , port-o-potties, and deep-fried food around here--so any other smells are welcome! I will say that some of the folks in the office are nasalogists--they could identify every smell with uncanny accuracy without even looking at the choices--others of us were... let's just say... less good.When I deployed back in January the whole thing happened rather quickly, so fast in fact that I left without a goodbye card that the good folks at NHRC had prepped for me--so they sent two cards in this package--it is actually quite satisfying to get these cards when I am closer to the coming home than the leaving home--makes it seem like they might actually miss me and want me back at work! ;-) But wait! There's more! A balsa wood glider--we almost took out a colonel's eye flying that about the office! Disney's The Jungle Book (a great movie!) Animal Crackers (actually visible in the picture above sitting on the box)--but the animal crackers themselves are the exact same as all the other animal crackers you have ever eaten--there was a camel--I don't remember a camel in The Jungle Book! I had been looking forward to eating the buzzards--that would have been awesome! Gigantic (and quite hot) Red Hots--horse suppository sized... scary! Some excellent reading material--magazines and a book that I am excited to read, The Judas Strain--it seems to have an intrepid epidemiologist/scientist as its hero--it has to be good! Miso soup, popcorn, and chopsticks--you figure it out... And lots of lovely notes to read ;-)
Now, a while ago I briefly mentioned that my grandpa had sent a picture and experimental notes on a spiffy Sterling engine (go here to see a video, go here to read about Stirling Engines ).
What I didn't mention is that Grandpa had also recently gotten a new iMac and I challenged him to use its built-in camera and software to make a quick movie of the Stirling engine in action. Instead--and he assures me this wasn't a deliberate tweak--took a digital picture and typed up the experimental notes on the computer, printed the picture and the notes and then snail-mailed them to me in Iraq! Ha! But, the fact is that he did use the computer, just not in the way I imagined! Anyway, that mention of the Stirling engine was enough for the package from work to include a whoopee cushion, a gender-confused doll, and another fine example of using heat (or temperature differentials) to drive motion--the world-famous drinking bird... I have included all three in the video below for your viewing pleasure (note the whoopee cushion is heard and not seen...)
The last thing I will mention is that the Army folks in the office here were quite impressed with the whole package--and they were amazed that everyone at my work would know that things I might enjoy most were fit for a four-year old, but once I reminded them that I work with these folks regularly and they are intimately familiar with my level of maturity and humor, it all made perfect sense! After all, laughter is the best medicine... and it may be the best preventitative medicine too, right after clean water, sewage systems, vaccines and antibiotics...
Monday, June 23, 2008
showers for the very tall (last in a series of entertaining ablution anecdotes)
ahh... the final installment of my bathroom bits quadrillogy... your patience has paid off!
I have mentioned the guys that clean the ablution units... they are known as TCNs, third country nationals... mostly from places like Pakistan, the Philippines... people from countries that are not Iraq or the United States... people from countries that haven't had the benefits of the outrageous Western diet that results in height, weight, vascular disease and colon cancer... in short, people whose epiphyseal growth plates closed without a huge growth spurt; they are relatively short...
the height is important here--especially the relative height; because these guys aren't really that short, but I firmly believe they think Americans are GIANTS... I come to this conclusion from careful observation of the shower heads in the containerized hygiene units. To wit, the original shower fixtures are of the adjustable type that slide up and down a rod mounted on the wall, allowing a nearly infinite amount of adjustment in height and angle of the shower head--when they are done cleaning all of these types of shower heads are at the very top of the pole (almost 8 feet high). Recall that the sinks were not of the highest quality, not meant for hundreds of military aged males to be using them several times a day; well, the same can be said of the showers. So, most of the adjustable shower apparatuses are broken too--with replacement, non-adjustable receptacles for the shoer head bolted onto the wall--also at the eight-foot level.
These guys cannot possibly reach that high! They have to make a concerted effort--either through ladders and stools, rock climbing techniques (the showers are only about 30 inches square), or piggy-back rides--to get the shower heads that high up! I can barely reach the damn things... How else could they be doing it?
If you noticed the new cleaning hours in the photo from the last post, they have an hour and a half in the morning. If you go a few minutes prior to the end of cleaning time they are all sitting around inside the trailer resting. It is air conditioned in there, but I am convinced that they have spent about fifteen minutes with double-stacked teams (on one another's shoulders) putting all the shower heads up as high as they can and then having another fifteen minutes of chicken fights--that is why they are tired and resting in the trailer at the end of cleaning time--makes perfect sense to me...
Now, if you didn't use your mind's eye to picture the above (and even if you did), I want you to use it to picture me trying to take a shower. You see, all but two of the twelve showers are non-adjustable; and the wall mount for the shower heads is the wrong one--it makes it so that the shower head--at the height of 8 feet--points 90° straight out from the wall. The water pressure is good... thus, when you turn on the shower a steady, strong stream of water shoots straight out of the one wall, over your head, and impacts elegantly and uselessly against the far wall. I stand there in the shower, dirty, hot, dry, looking up longingly at the arc of water that I can barely touch. I can jump up and down and get the top of my head wet; I can put my hands up in the air and deflect some of the spray downward; I can stand near the far wall and get a slight misting; or, I can stand right up against the wall and have the water run down my back (standing that close to the wall facing the other way is just wrong--trust me).
Of course, the shower head is at the end of a hose, so I end up holding that in one hand and getting wet that way. Don't let that go to lather up while the shower (with good pressure) is still on though--you may not be the only one that gets surprised by what the damn thing does! So, all of this does seem to help in the compliance of taking combat showers--so maybe it does work out for the best--water conservation, going green and all that... but I will be looking forward to a normal shower when I get home!
I have mentioned the guys that clean the ablution units... they are known as TCNs, third country nationals... mostly from places like Pakistan, the Philippines... people from countries that are not Iraq or the United States... people from countries that haven't had the benefits of the outrageous Western diet that results in height, weight, vascular disease and colon cancer... in short, people whose epiphyseal growth plates closed without a huge growth spurt; they are relatively short...
the height is important here--especially the relative height; because these guys aren't really that short, but I firmly believe they think Americans are GIANTS... I come to this conclusion from careful observation of the shower heads in the containerized hygiene units. To wit, the original shower fixtures are of the adjustable type that slide up and down a rod mounted on the wall, allowing a nearly infinite amount of adjustment in height and angle of the shower head--when they are done cleaning all of these types of shower heads are at the very top of the pole (almost 8 feet high). Recall that the sinks were not of the highest quality, not meant for hundreds of military aged males to be using them several times a day; well, the same can be said of the showers. So, most of the adjustable shower apparatuses are broken too--with replacement, non-adjustable receptacles for the shoer head bolted onto the wall--also at the eight-foot level.
These guys cannot possibly reach that high! They have to make a concerted effort--either through ladders and stools, rock climbing techniques (the showers are only about 30 inches square), or piggy-back rides--to get the shower heads that high up! I can barely reach the damn things... How else could they be doing it?
If you noticed the new cleaning hours in the photo from the last post, they have an hour and a half in the morning. If you go a few minutes prior to the end of cleaning time they are all sitting around inside the trailer resting. It is air conditioned in there, but I am convinced that they have spent about fifteen minutes with double-stacked teams (on one another's shoulders) putting all the shower heads up as high as they can and then having another fifteen minutes of chicken fights--that is why they are tired and resting in the trailer at the end of cleaning time--makes perfect sense to me...
Now, if you didn't use your mind's eye to picture the above (and even if you did), I want you to use it to picture me trying to take a shower. You see, all but two of the twelve showers are non-adjustable; and the wall mount for the shower heads is the wrong one--it makes it so that the shower head--at the height of 8 feet--points 90° straight out from the wall. The water pressure is good... thus, when you turn on the shower a steady, strong stream of water shoots straight out of the one wall, over your head, and impacts elegantly and uselessly against the far wall. I stand there in the shower, dirty, hot, dry, looking up longingly at the arc of water that I can barely touch. I can jump up and down and get the top of my head wet; I can put my hands up in the air and deflect some of the spray downward; I can stand near the far wall and get a slight misting; or, I can stand right up against the wall and have the water run down my back (standing that close to the wall facing the other way is just wrong--trust me).
Of course, the shower head is at the end of a hose, so I end up holding that in one hand and getting wet that way. Don't let that go to lather up while the shower (with good pressure) is still on though--you may not be the only one that gets surprised by what the damn thing does! So, all of this does seem to help in the compliance of taking combat showers--so maybe it does work out for the best--water conservation, going green and all that... but I will be looking forward to a normal shower when I get home!
Friday, June 20, 2008
Running Commentary
It was beautiful, blue-skied, sun-shiny day yesterday. But, the way you know you are alive in Iraq is that you are complaining. So, what to complain about on a beautiful looking day--keeping in mind that the last two weeks have been dusty, dusty, dusty, and when we were able to run we would say, "wouldn't it be nice to have a clear day without dust--sunshine, blue skies?" So, the problem with a non-dusty day is that it is FREAKING HOT!!! Get two minutes into a run in these conditions, even at 0530 in the morning, and you are dealing with some serious sun! A physical force--you can feel the photons pushing you back as you run into the morning sun! So, now I look for Goldilocks days: not too dusty, not too hot, just dusty enough!
Running water is an issue as we get into summer too... serious effort being put into water conservation on base: real combat showers and laundry. Check out the pictures (notice the improved cleaning hours!):
Note that my electric razor head broke last week, not a few days after my post on saving the damn thing from the sink. Perhaps it had to do with being stuck in the drain? But, think about this, if the lack of a drain stop is what broke my razor, the lack of drain stop is now forcing me to shave with a blade, but with the lack of drain stop the water basically has to run while you shave--I am using more water than ever now!
the laundry is odd now. Minimum has changed from 1 to 25; maximum from 20 to 28... so now there is very little margin for error when bringing clothes into for laundry... the fact is, I barely have 25 items of clothing--a pair of socks counts as one item--no cheating! Luckily Mom has sent me dust cloths--I can throw a couple of those in the bag when I need to make sure I get to my quota!
This week we had a wonderful video teleconference with the mucky-mucks back in the US; we used words and phrases like "theater maturation continuum", "scrutiny of perfection", and "inculturation"--none of which actually means anything in general or in the more specific area of combat medical care and force health protection (I know, one of them isn't even a real word--far be it from to to say anything!). I keep thinking that the next meeting I attend will be the one the wins the war, but i hasn't happened yet!
Running water is an issue as we get into summer too... serious effort being put into water conservation on base: real combat showers and laundry. Check out the pictures (notice the improved cleaning hours!):
Note that my electric razor head broke last week, not a few days after my post on saving the damn thing from the sink. Perhaps it had to do with being stuck in the drain? But, think about this, if the lack of a drain stop is what broke my razor, the lack of drain stop is now forcing me to shave with a blade, but with the lack of drain stop the water basically has to run while you shave--I am using more water than ever now!the laundry is odd now. Minimum has changed from 1 to 25; maximum from 20 to 28... so now there is very little margin for error when bringing clothes into for laundry... the fact is, I barely have 25 items of clothing--a pair of socks counts as one item--no cheating! Luckily Mom has sent me dust cloths--I can throw a couple of those in the bag when I need to make sure I get to my quota!
This week we had a wonderful video teleconference with the mucky-mucks back in the US; we used words and phrases like "theater maturation continuum", "scrutiny of perfection", and "inculturation"--none of which actually means anything in general or in the more specific area of combat medical care and force health protection (I know, one of them isn't even a real word--far be it from to to say anything!). I keep thinking that the next meeting I attend will be the one the wins the war, but i hasn't happened yet!
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Happy Birthday Army
Evidently today is the 233rd birthday of the US Army. I know this because there was a cake and a tuba in chow hall this evening when I got dinner. The cake said "happy birthday Army--233 years," and the tuba, along with a French Horn, two trumpets and a trombone, was playing marches and polkas like you read about....
There are some surreal things that happen here... and this was one of them, I mean listening to a horn section playing "happy birthday" in a building with an armor roof on it while picking up chicken curry and rice so that I can walk home through the middle of the Iraqi desert during a hailstorm of celebratory gunfire unleashed by the exuberant and neighboring Iraqi masses that just finished watching their soccer team keep alive its World Cup dreams by beating China... too weird... last week when the Iraqi soccer team won, several people were injured because of the celebratory gunfire that proves the old axiom "what goes up must come down (unless it has escape velocity)"...
another surreal day in Iraq...
There are some surreal things that happen here... and this was one of them, I mean listening to a horn section playing "happy birthday" in a building with an armor roof on it while picking up chicken curry and rice so that I can walk home through the middle of the Iraqi desert during a hailstorm of celebratory gunfire unleashed by the exuberant and neighboring Iraqi masses that just finished watching their soccer team keep alive its World Cup dreams by beating China... too weird... last week when the Iraqi soccer team won, several people were injured because of the celebratory gunfire that proves the old axiom "what goes up must come down (unless it has escape velocity)"...
another surreal day in Iraq...
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
on my knees (III of IV)
OK, take a look at this set of sinks--this is in the shower CHU (containerized hygiene unit); if the picture was better quality or closer you might be able to notice that the faucets aren't necessarily high quality industrial/commercial types--they are run of the mill, or even low end faucets... not really designed for several hundred military personnel to use several times a day. So perhaps it isn't surprising that all the drain stops are missing--not sure why they would remove all of those--perhaps vandals were blocking the drains and leaving the faucets on, perhaps all the long hair was getting stuck in them and causing hair balls in the pipes... I don't know, but the fact is they are missing, and that is how it happened.
When finished shaving there is tap-tap-tapping of the razor head necessary to clean off the razor head, but occasionally during the tapping (this is early in the morning) it gets dropped.... the first couple times it slid gracefully down the side of the sink and stopped short of going down the drain and I thought to myself, "man, would it suck if my razor head fell down that hole!" How prescient... The other morning, instead of tap-tap-tap, it went like this: tap-tap-oops--damn!!?!?? There is the razor head which is shaped like a wide cup--in one dimension it is too big to go down the drain and in two dimensions it is small enough to go down the drain just fine--deep in the drain, perched precariously, taunting me...
So, there it is, fallen down the abyss, the bottom lip of the cup resting on the little pivot rod that would move the drain stop up and down if the drain stop was there. Evidently when they remove all the plugs they leave the rod there--I guess that would keep down the leaking. There is a bit of space there near the top of the razor head--just enough for a finger to get in there--no worries--I get my finger around the upper lip, but in doing so the whole thing leans and the bottom lip falls over the end of the rod. Now I have a problem--my finger is still barely hooked around one end of the razor head, and the other end is securely around the bar that raises and lowers the missing drain plug. At this point my finger is positioned such that I cannot remove my hand without completely dropping the damn thing--like one of those traps your read about for raccoons or monkeys--the monkey puts his hand in a box with a small opening trying to get something shiny or tasty and the hand fits through when not holding the treat, but is too big with the treat and he won't let go--same for the raccoon, only in Where the Red Fern Grows it wasn't a box but an old tree stump with nails driven into it at an angle--why I am in the bathroom with my finger stuck in my nearly lost razor head thinking about a book I read when I was in fourth grade is beyond me. Regardless, I am a monkey caught in a jackass trap in the middle of Baghdad... I have a plumbing problem...
Now, plumbing runs in my veins... although, to be perfectly honest, I am not sure Dad was a plumber before I was born... in any case, I have loads of experience as a plumber's helper to include making a shower in Sidney's closet (she loved that), adjusting Peg's parents bathroom sink so that it uncontrollably shot water our of the wall for an hour before I could turn off the water--the rugs were a bit damp (KT loved THAT!), and replacing all the toilets in the house (multiple times--don't ask why...); so, I was confident in my ability to conquer this little problem--how hard could it be??
Note in the picture the access panels to get to the underbits, I was using the third sink form the right--the door is there, about a foot to the left--but it opens the wrong way... So, picture in your mind's eye, me, one hand deep down in the sink, arm draped over the counter so that I am low--on my knees--the access door is open and my other arm is going over the door and under the sink and behind the pipes. Luckily, this is new construction using flimsy materials--I was able to unscrew the plastic bits that hold the rod that moves the missing plug up and down, slide the rod out, remove my razor head, and put it all back together in less time than it took to shave to begin with.
Since then I have been VERY careful about the tap-tap-tapping...
When finished shaving there is tap-tap-tapping of the razor head necessary to clean off the razor head, but occasionally during the tapping (this is early in the morning) it gets dropped.... the first couple times it slid gracefully down the side of the sink and stopped short of going down the drain and I thought to myself, "man, would it suck if my razor head fell down that hole!" How prescient... The other morning, instead of tap-tap-tap, it went like this: tap-tap-oops--damn!!?!?? There is the razor head which is shaped like a wide cup--in one dimension it is too big to go down the drain and in two dimensions it is small enough to go down the drain just fine--deep in the drain, perched precariously, taunting me...
So, there it is, fallen down the abyss, the bottom lip of the cup resting on the little pivot rod that would move the drain stop up and down if the drain stop was there. Evidently when they remove all the plugs they leave the rod there--I guess that would keep down the leaking. There is a bit of space there near the top of the razor head--just enough for a finger to get in there--no worries--I get my finger around the upper lip, but in doing so the whole thing leans and the bottom lip falls over the end of the rod. Now I have a problem--my finger is still barely hooked around one end of the razor head, and the other end is securely around the bar that raises and lowers the missing drain plug. At this point my finger is positioned such that I cannot remove my hand without completely dropping the damn thing--like one of those traps your read about for raccoons or monkeys--the monkey puts his hand in a box with a small opening trying to get something shiny or tasty and the hand fits through when not holding the treat, but is too big with the treat and he won't let go--same for the raccoon, only in Where the Red Fern Grows it wasn't a box but an old tree stump with nails driven into it at an angle--why I am in the bathroom with my finger stuck in my nearly lost razor head thinking about a book I read when I was in fourth grade is beyond me. Regardless, I am a monkey caught in a jackass trap in the middle of Baghdad... I have a plumbing problem...
Now, plumbing runs in my veins... although, to be perfectly honest, I am not sure Dad was a plumber before I was born... in any case, I have loads of experience as a plumber's helper to include making a shower in Sidney's closet (she loved that), adjusting Peg's parents bathroom sink so that it uncontrollably shot water our of the wall for an hour before I could turn off the water--the rugs were a bit damp (KT loved THAT!), and replacing all the toilets in the house (multiple times--don't ask why...); so, I was confident in my ability to conquer this little problem--how hard could it be??
Note in the picture the access panels to get to the underbits, I was using the third sink form the right--the door is there, about a foot to the left--but it opens the wrong way... So, picture in your mind's eye, me, one hand deep down in the sink, arm draped over the counter so that I am low--on my knees--the access door is open and my other arm is going over the door and under the sink and behind the pipes. Luckily, this is new construction using flimsy materials--I was able to unscrew the plastic bits that hold the rod that moves the missing plug up and down, slide the rod out, remove my razor head, and put it all back together in less time than it took to shave to begin with.
Since then I have been VERY careful about the tap-tap-tapping...
Saturday, June 07, 2008
Teenager Alert!!!
There are now TWO teenagers in the Faix San Diego household... scary...
Evidently part of the young lady's birthday present was going to a swanky salon and getting a make over... seeing as she has never really worn makeup, I don't see how it can be a "make over"--the first time it should just be called a "make"... When her friends ask what she got for her birthday at school (assuming she still goes to school--I am not sure what teenagers do these days), she can tell them that she got "maked"--I am sure they will be totally jealous for sure!
Eden...
This is my stoop... that sounds odd, but there it is... my stoop... although that may be a generous term for it.
Anyway, in the last couple weeks, from the desert floor covered with gravel hauled in from vast distances at great expense to keep the dust and mud down, spring has sprung. If you look at the foreground there are three quite obvious plants, then under the stoop itself there are a few more, and just past the stoop a few more--my front yard has 8 new plants growing up out of the rock-covered soil... somewhere in there is an allegory, a parable, or a nice metaphor... you figure it out...
This is my stoop... that sounds odd, but there it is... my stoop... although that may be a generous term for it.
Anyway, in the last couple weeks, from the desert floor covered with gravel hauled in from vast distances at great expense to keep the dust and mud down, spring has sprung. If you look at the foreground there are three quite obvious plants, then under the stoop itself there are a few more, and just past the stoop a few more--my front yard has 8 new plants growing up out of the rock-covered soil... somewhere in there is an allegory, a parable, or a nice metaphor... you figure it out...
Anyway, in the last couple weeks, from the desert floor covered with gravel hauled in from vast distances at great expense to keep the dust and mud down, spring has sprung. If you look at the foreground there are three quite obvious plants, then under the stoop itself there are a few more, and just past the stoop a few more--my front yard has 8 new plants growing up out of the rock-covered soil... somewhere in there is an allegory, a parable, or a nice metaphor... you figure it out...
This is my stoop... that sounds odd, but there it is... my stoop... although that may be a generous term for it.
Anyway, in the last couple weeks, from the desert floor covered with gravel hauled in from vast distances at great expense to keep the dust and mud down, spring has sprung. If you look at the foreground there are three quite obvious plants, then under the stoop itself there are a few more, and just past the stoop a few more--my front yard has 8 new plants growing up out of the rock-covered soil... somewhere in there is an allegory, a parable, or a nice metaphor... you figure it out...
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
More Essential Services
Laundry is a funny thing... I like to do my own laundry--be master of my domain; know when I am going to do it, know when I am going to get my clothes back... it doesn't work that way here. You have to plan three days out when you want clean clothes, or might run out of clean clothes--not an easy task I tell you... It works like this: drop clothes off between 0700 and 1900 two days prior to when you want your clean clothes back. Fill out a slip of paper, choose the "bulk" option or you will spend hours counting out each individual item... and it won't make a difference because laundry isn't THAT different... the great disappearing sock mystery apparently applies here as well as at home... but with a twist!
I dropped of some laundry my first week here--still living in the tent mind you--two days later when I pick up the laundry and return to the tent I notice that two of my running socks are missing--not a pair mind you, but two different pairs of running socks were missing half the set!! I make my way back to the laundry facility the next day--it took me a day to notice this--I didn't unpack my laundry because I was (wrongly and hopelessly) optimistic about moving into a trailer soon. A few days later I get to the laundry place to drop off another load and go ask about my lost socks at the pick-up side of the facility. They are astounded that anything could possibly be lost. The manager takes the two half-pairs and says he will go down and look for the other socks later that day. The next day he hasn't found them, but he hasn't looked yet either. The next day the same thing, but my new bag of laundry is ready to pick up--again, hopelessly optimistic, I don't unpack for a couple of days. but when I do--presto!! My two half-pairs of socks are in the laundry bag! I make my way back to the laundry facility and ask for my other two socks back--the ones the manger was going to use as matches in the search... the lady at the counter looks at me with the biggest deer-in-the-headlights look you have ever seen--no idea what I am talking about. Eventually the manager is called and finds the socks and returns them to me. So, laundry in Iraq is not immune from lost socks, but they can mysteriously re-appear too!!
another note about the laundry--almost everything they wash is brown; so that even if what you turned in to wash wasn't brown, it will be when you get it back. I have, or rather had, a white towel. At first I thought the dust was really sticking to my skin and I wasn't scrubbing it all the way off, so that my towel was getting dirty after my shower. But, each time I sent it to the laundry it came back browner (more brown, if you will) than when I had dropped it off... Still, even though you KNOW the towel is clean, rubbing a now brown but once white towel across a clean body FEELS wrong... I think I may be purchasing a nice brown towel in the very near future.... (I am not posting a picture of the towel--to protect the innocent)
I dropped of some laundry my first week here--still living in the tent mind you--two days later when I pick up the laundry and return to the tent I notice that two of my running socks are missing--not a pair mind you, but two different pairs of running socks were missing half the set!! I make my way back to the laundry facility the next day--it took me a day to notice this--I didn't unpack my laundry because I was (wrongly and hopelessly) optimistic about moving into a trailer soon. A few days later I get to the laundry place to drop off another load and go ask about my lost socks at the pick-up side of the facility. They are astounded that anything could possibly be lost. The manager takes the two half-pairs and says he will go down and look for the other socks later that day. The next day he hasn't found them, but he hasn't looked yet either. The next day the same thing, but my new bag of laundry is ready to pick up--again, hopelessly optimistic, I don't unpack for a couple of days. but when I do--presto!! My two half-pairs of socks are in the laundry bag! I make my way back to the laundry facility and ask for my other two socks back--the ones the manger was going to use as matches in the search... the lady at the counter looks at me with the biggest deer-in-the-headlights look you have ever seen--no idea what I am talking about. Eventually the manager is called and finds the socks and returns them to me. So, laundry in Iraq is not immune from lost socks, but they can mysteriously re-appear too!!
another note about the laundry--almost everything they wash is brown; so that even if what you turned in to wash wasn't brown, it will be when you get it back. I have, or rather had, a white towel. At first I thought the dust was really sticking to my skin and I wasn't scrubbing it all the way off, so that my towel was getting dirty after my shower. But, each time I sent it to the laundry it came back browner (more brown, if you will) than when I had dropped it off... Still, even though you KNOW the towel is clean, rubbing a now brown but once white towel across a clean body FEELS wrong... I think I may be purchasing a nice brown towel in the very near future.... (I am not posting a picture of the towel--to protect the innocent)
Monday, June 02, 2008
Safety Warning!
Who doesn't like kettle corn? That is a rhetorical question, don't bother answering (note the lack of survey to the right). I, who like kettle corn very much, was recently the recipient of some personal sized microwave Jolly Time Oh Yum! Kettle Corn--"It pops faster!" is what the bag says... or rather, what the bag would say if it wasn't slightly charred right where the words are...
While it does seem to pop faster, it also seems to burn and catch fire faster! There is about a five second interval in between the aromatic sound of pop-pop-pop that lets you know it is still cooking and the silent smell of smoke... Pulling the bag out of the microwave--by the "stay cool" handles on opposing corners of the squarish bag--and giving a slight tug opens the bag to reveal a blackened and smoldering hunk of congealed popcorn in the center of the bag and all the other still good popcorn. The natural--and completely wrong, it turns out--response is to blow into the bag to clear some of the smoke for a better view and to put the fire out. The breath of fresh air seems to be just what the fire needs (fuel, oxygen, and heat if I recall) to really heat up... It is smoking enough to rush outside with it--because who wants a smoky CHU room? (Another rhetorical question.) There may have even been a few flames, but I will deny it. Outside, cooler heads prevailed, and the popcorn cooled off without too much more damage--most of it was still tasty!! After all, it was my last bag and I couldn't watch a movie without kettle corn!
BTW, there were four bags in the original box and I only caught two of them on fire! With no collateral damage I might add...
While it does seem to pop faster, it also seems to burn and catch fire faster! There is about a five second interval in between the aromatic sound of pop-pop-pop that lets you know it is still cooking and the silent smell of smoke... Pulling the bag out of the microwave--by the "stay cool" handles on opposing corners of the squarish bag--and giving a slight tug opens the bag to reveal a blackened and smoldering hunk of congealed popcorn in the center of the bag and all the other still good popcorn. The natural--and completely wrong, it turns out--response is to blow into the bag to clear some of the smoke for a better view and to put the fire out. The breath of fresh air seems to be just what the fire needs (fuel, oxygen, and heat if I recall) to really heat up... It is smoking enough to rush outside with it--because who wants a smoky CHU room? (Another rhetorical question.) There may have even been a few flames, but I will deny it. Outside, cooler heads prevailed, and the popcorn cooled off without too much more damage--most of it was still tasty!! After all, it was my last bag and I couldn't watch a movie without kettle corn!
BTW, there were four bags in the original box and I only caught two of them on fire! With no collateral damage I might add...
Friday, May 30, 2008
what the heck?
I don't get a lo of sun in through the window of my CHU, but in the early morning I do get a nice bright glow that tends to wake me up in time to go running too early in the morning. Except this morning... I woke up quite refreshed, but noticed it was still dark--I notice things like that. Then I noticed that the time was significantly later than when I normally wake up. That seemed odd... that is when I noticed (sharp observer that I am) that there was a set of blinds hanging up in my room and covering the window--it was perfectly bright outside, just not in my room. where the hell did those come from? I certainly didn't notice them when I stood next to the window last evening changing clothes--it isn't as bad as it sounds, the window is high and my wall locker door covers the window--jeesh!?! So, either I missed the blinds completely last evening when I got home, or someone snuck in the middle of the night and installed them while I was sleeping...
old looking... or better looking!??
I used to walk around a base out of uniform people would just say "hi"; they weren't sure what or who I was... should they salute, call me "sir" , jackass, or something else...
lately, this evening for instance, I am waling to the chow hall in my PT uniform--shorts and a t-shirt (more on the uniform later)--and two separate young enlisted men call me "sir". I can handle that. But, then an Army CPT calls me "sir" too!?!? I must be starting to look too old to be anything but a "sir"... that's depressing... but, now that I have a chance to think about, rationalize a bit (never underestimate the powers of self-deception!), I think that I must just have that air of competent authority about me that commands the respect of these young whipper-snappers!
you can vote just there to the right--->
lately, this evening for instance, I am waling to the chow hall in my PT uniform--shorts and a t-shirt (more on the uniform later)--and two separate young enlisted men call me "sir". I can handle that. But, then an Army CPT calls me "sir" too!?!? I must be starting to look too old to be anything but a "sir"... that's depressing... but, now that I have a chance to think about, rationalize a bit (never underestimate the powers of self-deception!), I think that I must just have that air of competent authority about me that commands the respect of these young whipper-snappers!
you can vote just there to the right--->
A bit more thanks
I have been chastised! I share much of the food I get with the folks
here at work, and they all asked that I put in a big "thank you" from
them to you in my last post--I forgot. Anyway, I hope to set the record
straight with this post--THANKS! From me and the others in the office.
here at work, and they all asked that I put in a big "thank you" from
them to you in my last post--I forgot. Anyway, I hope to set the record
straight with this post--THANKS! From me and the others in the office.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
package check...
Whew! I am back baby!
I hadn't even realized it had been so long since my last post... You know how you get really busy, then you have to travel, so you try to finish everything except you cannot, then you actually travel, then you come back and there is all the work you left and the new stuff that you got from your travels and the news stuff that appeared on your desk while you were gone? I don't know if there is a name for that phenomenon, but I will call it my excuse for not posting in a while... thanks to those of you that wrote to see if all was well here! Busy is good--makes the days go faster ;-)
A couple of quick tidbits:
* this is a desert... water can sometimes run in short supply... in the last week the base has started urging people to conserve and take combat showers... two nights ago, doing my part, I get wet, then a nice head of lather all over my body, and then go to rinse off--NO WATER!!??!! But, the shower across the trailer is going just fine--I know there are two hot water tanks, but they are connected to the same feed, so what's up with that!?? I was seriously worried for about a minute, but then, slowly, very slowly, the water pressure built back up in my shower and I was soon rinsed--odd way to conserve water
* I may be going nuts--definitely here too long. I was walking to lunch yesterday and stopped to use the port-o-john on the way to the chow hall. I stepped inside and it smelled delicious! Nice sauteed garlic smell--clearly I was going out my small mind... I was relieved when I stepped out and realized the smell was actually coming from the chow hall and just happened to waft over at that time--the garlic-o-potty would have been too much!
Anyway, that isn't what I wanted to write about today... But, I do want to take a moment to note that the above ablution anecdotes are not part of the ongoing quadrilogy of bathroom-based stories--we will get back to that later! So, to the task at hand.
As a military officer I am not supposed be openly "political", or, at least not publicly political... (and this blog is somewhat private) but, I don't think I am going too far out on a limb by saying that this war isn't terribly popular back home in the States. But the support for the troops in general, and me in particular ;-) is really amazing--it does wonders.
The highlight of everyone's day is mail call. If you get that e-mail in the morning that says you have a package waiting (for pickup at the mail room between 1245 and 1400), then the entire morning is ripe with anticipation. Even if you don't have something waiting, someone in your section does, and most folks are kind enough to share the goodies that they receive with the group. Even if you don't get something, and nobody in you section gets anything, almost every day the chaplain receives boxes of goodies (a lot of girl scout cookies--I think they took all the cookies they didn't sell and shipped them over here! Although many of the boxes of GS cookies are specially marked with a "thank you" for the troops) that are for all the soldiers (and sailor) in the battalion.
These are people that may or may not know someone serving in Iraq that simply send things through the Any Soldier (sailor, airman, Marine too) program. I understand that when the Cupertino neighbors were discussing sending a package to me with some acquaintances that one of them ended trying to donate some money to the cause--this kind of support really means a lot to everyone.
So, I wanted to send a big mahalo to those thinking positive thoughts, those supporting Peg and the kids back home, those that take the time to write (e-mails, letters--it doesn't matter), and those that send off the packages! Here is a sampling of the good things I have gotten over the last couple months (since I last said thanks!):
Thanks all!
I hadn't even realized it had been so long since my last post... You know how you get really busy, then you have to travel, so you try to finish everything except you cannot, then you actually travel, then you come back and there is all the work you left and the new stuff that you got from your travels and the news stuff that appeared on your desk while you were gone? I don't know if there is a name for that phenomenon, but I will call it my excuse for not posting in a while... thanks to those of you that wrote to see if all was well here! Busy is good--makes the days go faster ;-)
A couple of quick tidbits:
* this is a desert... water can sometimes run in short supply... in the last week the base has started urging people to conserve and take combat showers... two nights ago, doing my part, I get wet, then a nice head of lather all over my body, and then go to rinse off--NO WATER!!??!! But, the shower across the trailer is going just fine--I know there are two hot water tanks, but they are connected to the same feed, so what's up with that!?? I was seriously worried for about a minute, but then, slowly, very slowly, the water pressure built back up in my shower and I was soon rinsed--odd way to conserve water
* I may be going nuts--definitely here too long. I was walking to lunch yesterday and stopped to use the port-o-john on the way to the chow hall. I stepped inside and it smelled delicious! Nice sauteed garlic smell--clearly I was going out my small mind... I was relieved when I stepped out and realized the smell was actually coming from the chow hall and just happened to waft over at that time--the garlic-o-potty would have been too much!
Anyway, that isn't what I wanted to write about today... But, I do want to take a moment to note that the above ablution anecdotes are not part of the ongoing quadrilogy of bathroom-based stories--we will get back to that later! So, to the task at hand.
As a military officer I am not supposed be openly "political", or, at least not publicly political... (and this blog is somewhat private) but, I don't think I am going too far out on a limb by saying that this war isn't terribly popular back home in the States. But the support for the troops in general, and me in particular ;-) is really amazing--it does wonders.
The highlight of everyone's day is mail call. If you get that e-mail in the morning that says you have a package waiting (for pickup at the mail room between 1245 and 1400), then the entire morning is ripe with anticipation. Even if you don't have something waiting, someone in your section does, and most folks are kind enough to share the goodies that they receive with the group. Even if you don't get something, and nobody in you section gets anything, almost every day the chaplain receives boxes of goodies (a lot of girl scout cookies--I think they took all the cookies they didn't sell and shipped them over here! Although many of the boxes of GS cookies are specially marked with a "thank you" for the troops) that are for all the soldiers (and sailor) in the battalion.
These are people that may or may not know someone serving in Iraq that simply send things through the Any Soldier (sailor, airman, Marine too) program. I understand that when the Cupertino neighbors were discussing sending a package to me with some acquaintances that one of them ended trying to donate some money to the cause--this kind of support really means a lot to everyone.
So, I wanted to send a big mahalo to those thinking positive thoughts, those supporting Peg and the kids back home, those that take the time to write (e-mails, letters--it doesn't matter), and those that send off the packages! Here is a sampling of the good things I have gotten over the last couple months (since I last said thanks!):
- music and movies from tommy
- Poi Dog Pondering and Trader Joe's goodies from KT--the Punjab Choley is BURNIN' my tongue as I type--wow!
- soup noodles and macadamia surprise from hawaii
- books-excellent books from Gina
- toys (that maddening paddle with a ball at the end of an elastic string--arrrgh!!) and the best adenovirus t-shirt ever from Mary
- pound cake, curtains, and frisbee (among other wonders) from Mom
- a chair from Andrew and Peg--now I can sit and type in comfort (Andrew does need a lesson in packing for world wide shipping though...); and more food than I could eat in a year, and lots of DVDs with the latest TV shows so I don't get too far behind
- Italian food, CD, and made art from Connor and Brian (I won't say which one made the art)
- Detailed experimental notes from Grandpa Tom on the performance characteristics of a Stirling engine!
- Sardines for eating, and magazines for reading, and bones for chewing and puzzles for thinking from JP and Dianne and Jake (the dog--he wanted my teeth strong--no scurvy here!) And, the fish helps the brain for all the reading and puzzles--sudoku gets easier every time I fly!
Thanks all!
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
shower hours (B of D)
The shower trailer is very nice; walk in and there are twelve sinks to your left, six on each wall, and twelve showers on your right, again, six on each wall. Plus, a large 100 gallon water heater for each side of the trailer--no worries there! The floor in front of the shower has a nice wooden lattice over it so that you stand up out of any puddled water, though there is very little of that because the drains work swimmingly. The contractor responsible for the showers cleans them twice a day--so they are usually spic and span, not what you might expect from a set of trailers that I don't know how many scores of people use. The issue is the sign on the front door of the trailer... this is the sign that tells you when the trailer is closed for this phenomenal cleaning that the contractor does twice daily.
The first time the shower is closed is from 10:30 am until 11:00 am; seems reasonable, after the morning rush and not a heavy showering time. The next time the shower is closed for cleaning is 1 pm until 1:30 pm. How dirty do you think the shower gets in the two hours over lunch when NO ONE uses them!?!?!? Why the heck would they do that? Do you think the government (us) paying the contractor is getting their money's worth? Is the soldier (sailor, airmen and Marine) getting a super clean shower out of the deal!! I think not!! But, maybe that is why I run at lunch (while the weather allows it) and take a shower at the cleanest part of the day!
The first time the shower is closed is from 10:30 am until 11:00 am; seems reasonable, after the morning rush and not a heavy showering time. The next time the shower is closed for cleaning is 1 pm until 1:30 pm. How dirty do you think the shower gets in the two hours over lunch when NO ONE uses them!?!?!? Why the heck would they do that? Do you think the government (us) paying the contractor is getting their money's worth? Is the soldier (sailor, airmen and Marine) getting a super clean shower out of the deal!! I think not!! But, maybe that is why I run at lunch (while the weather allows it) and take a shower at the cleanest part of the day!
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
lost lather (1 of 4)
Evidently there is a shortage of soap/shower gel in theater. Because every time I turn my back in the shower trailer, my damn shower gel disappears! Now, it may be karma. When I first arrived here at Camp Victory, I didn't have anything that resembled shower gel, but I didn't let that stop me from going to the shower trailer in the evening and scrubbing down (I did have my trusty Japanese industrial-strength recycled water bottle plastic scrubbing cloth!). Imagine my good luck the first morning when I walk into the shower trailer and it is completely empty, devoid of any living thing, no dirty towels, nothing amiss or astray... except for one little bottle of shower gel.(Dove--moisturizes while you shower!) So I figure, since this is the transient section of camp, someone has been kind enough to leave some shower gel for transients to use--very kind. I used it. I even left it after I was done for the next hapless transient. Turns out, the next hapless transient was me, that very next morning after my run. At this point it is clear to me that whoever left that shower gel doesn't want it back, so I bring it back to the tent with me for safekeeping.
The gel and I shower together happily for several more days, until I forget the gel one day in my haste to leave the shower trailer. Not really haste--I have very few places I need to be at with very specific time constraints; turns out this, along with non-standard PT gear, is one of the benefits of being a NARMY of one amongst the Army. The problem is that immediately upon leaving the shower I am in the habit of pulling the shower curtain closed so that it dries out nicely, and once closed the contents of the shower, including the gel, are completely dead to me. I think this strange obsession I have with closing the shower curtain was imposed by my Mother early in my impressionable youth--Thanks, Mom! When I forgot the shower gel that first time, I went back to the trailer about 30 minutes later.... there wasn't a soul about, but the gel was gone! Hopefully some hapless transient got it.
Note that I mentioned "the first time" I left the shower gel. since then I have managed to forget a couple of other bottles of shower gel--it seems there isn't actually a shortage of shower gel on base-you can buy it at the exchange quite readily--there is just a shortage of conveniently placed shower gel in the shower trailers! In each of the subsequent cases I have literally only been one from the trailer for ten minutes or less and the (evidently) highly valued and highly pilfered bottle is gone...
By the way, I am currently pushing the record for maintaining control of my shower gel with a streak going on three weeks! They say it takes 21 days to make a habit, so I may have figured it out now...
The gel and I shower together happily for several more days, until I forget the gel one day in my haste to leave the shower trailer. Not really haste--I have very few places I need to be at with very specific time constraints; turns out this, along with non-standard PT gear, is one of the benefits of being a NARMY of one amongst the Army. The problem is that immediately upon leaving the shower I am in the habit of pulling the shower curtain closed so that it dries out nicely, and once closed the contents of the shower, including the gel, are completely dead to me. I think this strange obsession I have with closing the shower curtain was imposed by my Mother early in my impressionable youth--Thanks, Mom! When I forgot the shower gel that first time, I went back to the trailer about 30 minutes later.... there wasn't a soul about, but the gel was gone! Hopefully some hapless transient got it.
Note that I mentioned "the first time" I left the shower gel. since then I have managed to forget a couple of other bottles of shower gel--it seems there isn't actually a shortage of shower gel on base-you can buy it at the exchange quite readily--there is just a shortage of conveniently placed shower gel in the shower trailers! In each of the subsequent cases I have literally only been one from the trailer for ten minutes or less and the (evidently) highly valued and highly pilfered bottle is gone...
By the way, I am currently pushing the record for maintaining control of my shower gel with a streak going on three weeks! They say it takes 21 days to make a habit, so I may have figured it out now...
ablution stories
Anyone who has read my blog (especially the bits from 2005) knows that there isn't much to write about except the food and the bathroom facilities--this is war! At least, this is war for me, I imagine the blogs of people that are regularly being shot at are quite different. I had been trying to go "clean" and had resisted posting several ablutions related stories, but they keep piling up and I don't have anything better to write about right now... so get ready....
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
freaky weather night
The last couple of days have been quite dusty--again, good for the heat, but not so much for the lungs. Tonight, in addition to the dust, there was lightning!! Around 1815, I am sitting at my desk working a little e-mail magic, when the announcement is made that there is a lightening warning--or perhaps an advisory, I am not sure the difference--starting at 1830 until "further notice". A couple hours later it is time to walk home--in the dark... and the dust... and the lightning...
The dust is eerie enough--vision is decreased dramatically, most things you cannot see, those that you can see look "fuzzy". At night, it is even a bit more eery... But now the lightning is going off. I cannot quite tell how close it is because of the dust; I cannot even see a building 100 meters to the south, so when the entire south lights up with a flash of light I cannot see the jagged rods of light, but a nice dust-diffused lighting effect--very cool. There was no thunder either.... perhaps the dust diffused not only the light but the sound too. I suppose someone smart out there knows the answer, but they probably aren't reading this blog!
Not only was it dusty and lightning-y, there was rain... on the way back to the CHU every 10-20 steps a single rain drop would strike somewhere on my body--talk abut humidity! No wonder the base is starting to advertise about a water shortage--we are in a freaking desert and when it rains you can measure the rainfall in drops per acre.
The dust is eerie enough--vision is decreased dramatically, most things you cannot see, those that you can see look "fuzzy". At night, it is even a bit more eery... But now the lightning is going off. I cannot quite tell how close it is because of the dust; I cannot even see a building 100 meters to the south, so when the entire south lights up with a flash of light I cannot see the jagged rods of light, but a nice dust-diffused lighting effect--very cool. There was no thunder either.... perhaps the dust diffused not only the light but the sound too. I suppose someone smart out there knows the answer, but they probably aren't reading this blog!
Not only was it dusty and lightning-y, there was rain... on the way back to the CHU every 10-20 steps a single rain drop would strike somewhere on my body--talk abut humidity! No wonder the base is starting to advertise about a water shortage--we are in a freaking desert and when it rains you can measure the rainfall in drops per acre.
Monday, April 21, 2008
A Coalition of the Volleyball Willing...
There was a volleyball tournament yesterday--quite an international event around here. In fact, the first tournament that my unit had a team in, several weeks ago--we came in third overall, which wasn't too bad for our first time playing together, and there were some very good teams there.
The Tongan marines guard the Al Faw Palace, the main headquarters for the US military in Iraq (Note that the photo below has been slightly modified for security reasons, but the basic look of the place is spot on. Of course, it usually doesn't look THIS good, you have to get it at the right time of day when the sun AND dust are low.)
They--the Tongans--supposedly have an excellent team, but they don't play on Sundays, so I haven't had the chance to play with them yet. The Samoan contingent is quite impressive, these are US Army (and one Navy) who all happen to be from Samoa and have put together a team--these dudes are big, the nets are low... they don't even jump, but they block just fine... The Samoans did a bit of chanting too--with every point they made a chant leader would call out the chant and the rest of the team would fall in--kind of a call and response thing with a bit of symbolic dancing thrown in to boot! The Samoans (not the girl scout cookie, S'moas) came in second.
The winning team in that first tourney was a group of civilian contractors from Nepal--this team was small, quick and had clearly played together quite a bit--they picked up every ball and returned it flawlessly...
There was a fine group of Puerto Ricans too, they weren't playing volleyball though, they were singing. Evidently they gather at the MWR center every Sunday afternoon and set up food and giant loudspeakers with microphones and a computer with MP3s... playing and singing salsa music all afternoon. These guys know how to have a good time!
And, I should mention that the Ugandan team didn't show up for the first tourney either, but we benefitted greatly from one of their players subbing in on our team--this guy had mad hops and great volleyball skills--I hope their entire team doesn't play like that or we are in trouble if we ever meet up with them!!
Yesterday was another story--we dominated! Navy team--bam! Marine team--bam! Joint team--bam!! Estonian team--bam!! We had to play the Estonians again in the finals, and we had been sitting for a while when that match came up, so we dropped the first game, but then we kicked it up a notch and BAM!! We took the entire enchilada. The victorious, steadfast Task Force 62 Medical Brigade volleyball team:
The Tongan marines guard the Al Faw Palace, the main headquarters for the US military in Iraq (Note that the photo below has been slightly modified for security reasons, but the basic look of the place is spot on. Of course, it usually doesn't look THIS good, you have to get it at the right time of day when the sun AND dust are low.)
They--the Tongans--supposedly have an excellent team, but they don't play on Sundays, so I haven't had the chance to play with them yet. The Samoan contingent is quite impressive, these are US Army (and one Navy) who all happen to be from Samoa and have put together a team--these dudes are big, the nets are low... they don't even jump, but they block just fine... The Samoans did a bit of chanting too--with every point they made a chant leader would call out the chant and the rest of the team would fall in--kind of a call and response thing with a bit of symbolic dancing thrown in to boot! The Samoans (not the girl scout cookie, S'moas) came in second.
The winning team in that first tourney was a group of civilian contractors from Nepal--this team was small, quick and had clearly played together quite a bit--they picked up every ball and returned it flawlessly...
There was a fine group of Puerto Ricans too, they weren't playing volleyball though, they were singing. Evidently they gather at the MWR center every Sunday afternoon and set up food and giant loudspeakers with microphones and a computer with MP3s... playing and singing salsa music all afternoon. These guys know how to have a good time!
And, I should mention that the Ugandan team didn't show up for the first tourney either, but we benefitted greatly from one of their players subbing in on our team--this guy had mad hops and great volleyball skills--I hope their entire team doesn't play like that or we are in trouble if we ever meet up with them!!
Yesterday was another story--we dominated! Navy team--bam! Marine team--bam! Joint team--bam!! Estonian team--bam!! We had to play the Estonians again in the finals, and we had been sitting for a while when that match came up, so we dropped the first game, but then we kicked it up a notch and BAM!! We took the entire enchilada. The victorious, steadfast Task Force 62 Medical Brigade volleyball team:
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Warming Up! Dusting Down...
Back in March there were a few days where it broke 100°F here, then it cooled back down to reasonable 85-90°F days for a week or so. Last week it got hot, just over the 100°F mark, but there was a qualitative difference in the air that let you know this heat was significantly more serious than the slight brushes with triple digit temps last month--those were nothing! So, I had meant a couple days ago to post about this abrupt, but not unexpected, mercury motion. When, out of nowhere comes a major dust storm--a finer dust than we had at Al Asad, it is actually easier to breath... which must be a bad thing. Last Weds was hot and relatively clear. Thursday morning was my run with the Army guys--I got up, got dressed and went outside--the dust was thick! But, as I said, deceptively easy to breathe--it didn't seem that bad. So, I went and met the guys. One of the guys shows up--remember, it is 0530--and says, "I just came to tell you that I am not running--it is too dusty." The rest of us chastised him and went on our way. During the run all seemed fine, but afterwards, it was clear that discretion really is the better part of valor and our compatriot that refused to run was much more discreet and valorous than we... the wet (sweaty) bits of my shorts and shirt were covered with a pleasant mud, as were the corners of my mouth--as I found out. I can only imagine the coating of mud in my trachea, bronchioles, and alveoli--this is pretty fine dust!
But, the point I was trying to make wasn't what kind of idiot will go running in crazy air conditions--ask my buddy Dave who ran through the smoke of the 2003 San Diego fires--the point was that the dust does a great job of blocking the sun and keeping the heat down to a reasonable level. So, for the last 4 days there has been enough intermittent dust that the temps have stayed below the triple digits. Although, I have a feeling that this week will be either hot and dusty or just hot....
But, the point I was trying to make wasn't what kind of idiot will go running in crazy air conditions--ask my buddy Dave who ran through the smoke of the 2003 San Diego fires--the point was that the dust does a great job of blocking the sun and keeping the heat down to a reasonable level. So, for the last 4 days there has been enough intermittent dust that the temps have stayed below the triple digits. Although, I have a feeling that this week will be either hot and dusty or just hot....
Monday, April 14, 2008
Logorrhoea
Part of my job here in Iraq, and at home for that matter, is medical surveillance. I look at various data streams and reports to try identify "sentinel events" that might have an important impact on the troops. One of the surveillance systems we use is known as the Reportable Medical Event System--it is pretty much what it sounds like. Just as the CDC and state and county public health departments require doctors to report certain communicable diseases of importance in order to help control the spread of said diseases, we (the DOD) require a report to be filed whenever certain diagnoses of interest or importance are made. To be honest, reviewing reportable medical event forms is generally quite boring because the vast majority are made up of STD diagnoses--not that the military has an excess above what you might expect of these, it is just that there is a paucity of other more interesting cases--this is a good thing.
So, the other day, when a report came across the desk (electronically of course) and it indicated a diagnosis of filariasis and dracontiasis I was quite excited! Now, I know some are asking "what the heck is filariasis", and almost everyone is asking "what the heck is dracontiasis?" (I had never heard the word "dracontiasis"--turns out it is another name for dracunculiasis or Guinea Worm Disease which I am familiar with.) These are both parasitic diseases that occur in the tropics, and not in Iraq--at least not for a long time. And, they are caught in completely different ways--one from a mosquito and the other from exposure to contaminated/infected water. What would the odds be a patient having both of these in Iraq--vanishingly small I think to myself... this requires some looking into!!
Upon further investigation--calling the clinic where the report was generated and asking "did you really mean to put that down?"--a message was received back that, no, in fact, the report author had meant not "filariasis and dracontiasis", but had in fact, meant to put "onchocerciasis"... also known as River blindess... interestinger and interestinger... because here is yet another tropical disease that hasn't been reported in Iraq and it would be quite noteworthy to see it in one of our military folks. Another query, "did you really mean to put THAT?" And the reply, "sorry, meant to put onychomycosis" Now, onychomycosis is another long, complicated word--similar to the preceding long complicated words, except that it simply means a bit of fungus on the toenail... quite a bit less exciting than worms and parasites from tropical climes...
Of course, this story, though humorous (to me), illustrates the point that when, as often happens, the lowest-ranking, least-experienced person in the medical unit is put in charge of filling out surveillance reports--the reports that I read and review--and entering data into the electronic surveillance systems, then the data may not be as useful as envisioned!
So, the other day, when a report came across the desk (electronically of course) and it indicated a diagnosis of filariasis and dracontiasis I was quite excited! Now, I know some are asking "what the heck is filariasis", and almost everyone is asking "what the heck is dracontiasis?" (I had never heard the word "dracontiasis"--turns out it is another name for dracunculiasis or Guinea Worm Disease which I am familiar with.) These are both parasitic diseases that occur in the tropics, and not in Iraq--at least not for a long time. And, they are caught in completely different ways--one from a mosquito and the other from exposure to contaminated/infected water. What would the odds be a patient having both of these in Iraq--vanishingly small I think to myself... this requires some looking into!!
Upon further investigation--calling the clinic where the report was generated and asking "did you really mean to put that down?"--a message was received back that, no, in fact, the report author had meant not "filariasis and dracontiasis", but had in fact, meant to put "onchocerciasis"... also known as River blindess... interestinger and interestinger... because here is yet another tropical disease that hasn't been reported in Iraq and it would be quite noteworthy to see it in one of our military folks. Another query, "did you really mean to put THAT?" And the reply, "sorry, meant to put onychomycosis" Now, onychomycosis is another long, complicated word--similar to the preceding long complicated words, except that it simply means a bit of fungus on the toenail... quite a bit less exciting than worms and parasites from tropical climes...
Of course, this story, though humorous (to me), illustrates the point that when, as often happens, the lowest-ranking, least-experienced person in the medical unit is put in charge of filling out surveillance reports--the reports that I read and review--and entering data into the electronic surveillance systems, then the data may not be as useful as envisioned!
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Twista !!!
Generally, I try to be optimistic... when there are sudden, unexpected, and loud noises, I assume that they are from controlled detonations--these are planned times on base when things get blown up. Each morning an announcement is made that controlled detonation times are at X and X+30 minutes past the hour. So, when you hear a sudden, unexpected, and loud noise you can look at your watch and say, "huh, the controlled detonation is off by a few minutes..." and go on your merry way.
(Note that we in the military, like the business world and the rest of the government are big into "metrics" and measuring what we do, how much of it we do, and how well we do it. I am pretty sure, although I have by no means confirmed, that the metric for controlled dets is the percentage that go off within 15 minutes of a scheduled time--again, every 30 minutes. And, for the really curious, there are NOT controlled detonations EVERY thirty minutes, just when they have something to blow up--it is always a guess whether there will be one or not. And, for the really, really super curious--those asking, "what the heck are they blowing up??"--they blow up weapons that they confiscate or find from bad guys so that they don't end up back out on the street. clever... so much for reduce, reuse, recycle...)
The other afternoon, I am sitting at my desk, iPod on, earphones in, lost in my own little world of data analysis and e-mails when a large series of sudden, unexpected and loud noises--a lot of chest-thumping bass--comes through--I can feel it, not just hear it! The optimist thought, "holy moki! this is a serious attack!!". Turns out that I should have been more optimistic--that night a USO concert was scheduled and the rap band Twista was just warming up their equipment. The stage is just the other side of the giant concrete t-walls that surround our work area... According to wikipedia, Twista is an American rapper that held the title of fastest rapper in the world according to the Guinness World Records in 1992, being able to rap 11.2 syllables per second--that's pretty fast!!
Anyway, the band was warming up and I thought we were under attack... no worries I guess... I had the chance to actually see and hear a bit of the show as I walked by the stage to the chow hall that evening. I had the fleeting thought that I might rather endure the mortars/rockets than the rap music... of course, for those that choose the music, they actually are choosing the music AND the mortars/rockets! True fans!!
(Note that we in the military, like the business world and the rest of the government are big into "metrics" and measuring what we do, how much of it we do, and how well we do it. I am pretty sure, although I have by no means confirmed, that the metric for controlled dets is the percentage that go off within 15 minutes of a scheduled time--again, every 30 minutes. And, for the really curious, there are NOT controlled detonations EVERY thirty minutes, just when they have something to blow up--it is always a guess whether there will be one or not. And, for the really, really super curious--those asking, "what the heck are they blowing up??"--they blow up weapons that they confiscate or find from bad guys so that they don't end up back out on the street. clever... so much for reduce, reuse, recycle...)
The other afternoon, I am sitting at my desk, iPod on, earphones in, lost in my own little world of data analysis and e-mails when a large series of sudden, unexpected and loud noises--a lot of chest-thumping bass--comes through--I can feel it, not just hear it! The optimist thought, "holy moki! this is a serious attack!!". Turns out that I should have been more optimistic--that night a USO concert was scheduled and the rap band Twista was just warming up their equipment. The stage is just the other side of the giant concrete t-walls that surround our work area... According to wikipedia, Twista is an American rapper that held the title of fastest rapper in the world according to the Guinness World Records in 1992, being able to rap 11.2 syllables per second--that's pretty fast!!
Anyway, the band was warming up and I thought we were under attack... no worries I guess... I had the chance to actually see and hear a bit of the show as I walked by the stage to the chow hall that evening. I had the fleeting thought that I might rather endure the mortars/rockets than the rap music... of course, for those that choose the music, they actually are choosing the music AND the mortars/rockets! True fans!!
Thursday, April 03, 2008
walking in Iraq...
Twice today I nearly wiped out secondary to the difficulties of "walking in Iraq"...
It isn't easy walking in Iraq. Especially at night. Although our base doesn't enforce "light discipline" --the process of making sure that NO lights shine anywhere on base at night except for small personal flashlights, which cuts down on people shooting at you, but makes navigation a special adventure--like they do on many other bases, it is almost worse. At least if all the lights are out you KNOW it's dark, and your eyes do eventually adjust. Here there are areas of bright lights from floodlights and the seemingly thousands of NTVs (non-tactical vehicles--plain old cars and SUVs and trucks) and TVs (tactical vehicles--HMMWVs), and there are areas of complete darkness... going from one to the other as I walk from work to the chowhall to work to home each evening is stressfull! The walking paths are, in an understatement, uneven--there are pits, ledges and uneven bits galore. The streets, which besides having the seemingly thousands of vehicles also have a large amount of pedestrians, are often worse than the walking paths. So, walking feels like the old Laurie Anderson song: I am falling and catching myself, and falling and catching myself, over and over again... I actually hurt my hip the other night walking home--a zig down when I didn't zig or zag--surprise!
Today I got mail (thanks Peg and JP&Dianne!)--so, carrying the boxes home during the light I couldn't exactly see where I was going--that was pothole #1. I certainly don't want to discourage anyone from sending boxes because I might hurt myself carrying them back to the CHU though--heck, if I really get hurt I can go home! Please, don't send dangerous items trying to hurt me in my best interest!
I went back to work after a nice run and was heading back to the trailer later at night (dark) and, BAM! There was a new pothole that I swear was never there before... This is a freakishly big hole, large enough for an IED--of course, if someone actually tried to put an IED in the hole there are enough people around with shoulder holsters that they wouldn't get very far!
Speaking of shoulder holsters... you have voted, the ballots tallied, the chads un-hung... and the official results are:
shoulder holster: 10
pants pocket: 3
waistband (butt!): 2
Barack Obama: 36
so, if I cannot get Barack to carry my weapon for me, I will go with the shoulder holster... thanks for participating in this deomocratic demonstration! BTW, there weren't 51 votes, but Barack got a few super-delegates...
It isn't easy walking in Iraq. Especially at night. Although our base doesn't enforce "light discipline" --the process of making sure that NO lights shine anywhere on base at night except for small personal flashlights, which cuts down on people shooting at you, but makes navigation a special adventure--like they do on many other bases, it is almost worse. At least if all the lights are out you KNOW it's dark, and your eyes do eventually adjust. Here there are areas of bright lights from floodlights and the seemingly thousands of NTVs (non-tactical vehicles--plain old cars and SUVs and trucks) and TVs (tactical vehicles--HMMWVs), and there are areas of complete darkness... going from one to the other as I walk from work to the chowhall to work to home each evening is stressfull! The walking paths are, in an understatement, uneven--there are pits, ledges and uneven bits galore. The streets, which besides having the seemingly thousands of vehicles also have a large amount of pedestrians, are often worse than the walking paths. So, walking feels like the old Laurie Anderson song: I am falling and catching myself, and falling and catching myself, over and over again... I actually hurt my hip the other night walking home--a zig down when I didn't zig or zag--surprise!
Today I got mail (thanks Peg and JP&Dianne!)--so, carrying the boxes home during the light I couldn't exactly see where I was going--that was pothole #1. I certainly don't want to discourage anyone from sending boxes because I might hurt myself carrying them back to the CHU though--heck, if I really get hurt I can go home! Please, don't send dangerous items trying to hurt me in my best interest!
I went back to work after a nice run and was heading back to the trailer later at night (dark) and, BAM! There was a new pothole that I swear was never there before... This is a freakishly big hole, large enough for an IED--of course, if someone actually tried to put an IED in the hole there are enough people around with shoulder holsters that they wouldn't get very far!
Speaking of shoulder holsters... you have voted, the ballots tallied, the chads un-hung... and the official results are:
shoulder holster: 10
pants pocket: 3
waistband (butt!): 2
Barack Obama: 36
so, if I cannot get Barack to carry my weapon for me, I will go with the shoulder holster... thanks for participating in this deomocratic demonstration! BTW, there weren't 51 votes, but Barack got a few super-delegates...
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
rambling weather report...
Sunny. Pleasantly warm, Nice. Temperature of 90°.
This is today's weather forecast for Baghdad... somewhat ironic considering the recent increased activities involving rockets and our Baghdad bases, but I guess they are taking into account the recent re-instatement of the cease-fire by MAS (Muqtada al Sadr-everyone important has their own acronym!).
I ran early this morning-with the Army guys-this time it was, as advertised, pleasant... so everyone showed up! More bonding...
Yesterday morning was crazy with dust that was so fine and white that it looked like fog, but it wasn't, and then there was the smoke... At home we know smoke and fog make smog, but here I guess we have to call it 'smust' or 'doke'... either way it is a bit "chokey"... To wit, as I walk to work in the morning, over the dirt and through the rocks, I cross a pleasant little bridge that traverses a pleasant little drainage ditch... Yesterday morning, the morning of the smust, a rather large catfish was laying on its side at the surface of the water, taking the catfish equivalent of its agonal breaths and gasping for whatever fish gasp for... I doubt it was the smust, but the thought crossed my mind... Of course, I spend much of my time looking at environmental sampling data--including air dust--and reassuring people that, as far as I know, they will probably be fine!
Anyway, we have reached and/or broken the 100F mark twice in the last week, so I guess the heat is on... April promises to be a warm one!
DJF (my own acronym!)
PS: Peg's birthday is tomorrow, call her cell phone and leave a singing message-that's what I'm doing!
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
And now for something completely different...
It hasn't escaped my attention that there is a certain irony in my last blog entry... I try to keep this this space fairly funny (I hope) and lighthearted; so my last post was a serious entry in this funny (I hope) and lighthearted blog that goes on to defend writing funny and lighthearted communications home... as I said, a certain irony there. Anyway, I thought that something a bit lighter was called for in tonight's entry, so a fashion piece!!
I mentioned in a previous post that I had recently purchased a new holster from an online purveyor of military/tactical gear using the "internets". The issue was that the standard issue holster is a real pain to use. It fits on a belt, the big thick green belt that holds your canteens and such; and nobody carries canteens, leastwise on base, because every other block there are pallets and pallets of bottled water. (In fact, there is a place on base called the Oasis where they have a water-filtration and bottling plant that turns out ten of thousands of gallons of bottled water--although they come in 1.5 liter bottles.) So, there is this big belt with a holster that you can wear--both items being olive drab green which doesn't match the uniform at all (fashion police!!). If you wear this belt/holster get-up you are screwed: 1) wear it outside your blouse (the camouflage uniform shirt which is worn un-tucked) and restrict access to both the pockets on the blouse and your standard pants pockets--not good because you have to CONSTANTLY reach into said pockets to get out your ID card, or 2) wear it under the blouse where it looks funny in a lumpy sort of way, you cannot reach the weapon if, heaven forbid, you actually need it, and the blouse constantly rides up over it and simply ruins the line and cut of the uniform. As I said, unsatisfactory.
What to do? For the first several weeks I was in theater, when I still had hopes of buying a holster here, I carried the pistol in my left front pants pocket--you might think this obvious, and it is, but quite simply NOBODY does this... it is a fashion risk. Some would say it is risky in other areas too, like "what happens if the weapon goes off while in your pocket?" The fact is, on base, we keep our weapons in "condition green"--think of the terror alert colors, as they progress from green to yellow to red the weapon becomes more dangerous--which is unloaded and no magazine in the weapon. The magazine with the bullets is kept in another pocket in this scenario--the right bottom blouse pocket, if you must know, and you must. When you go with the pocket option you feel sneaky, because you are carrying a "concealed" weapon. Fact is, everyone (active duty military for sure, Blackwater maybe) is supposed to be carrying a weapon at all times--unless PTing (physical training, exercising). You cannot go into the chow hall (or anywhere else for that matter) without a weapon--occasionally the guards at the chow hall will stop a person (me) with no obvious weapon and ask "where is your weapon?" in their cute and polite Ugandan accents. Their eyes get quite wide when you whip a pistol out of your pocket!! Oftentimes that is enough for them to allow passage, but sometimes their curiosity gets the better of them and they ask where the ammo is. Needless to say, they are equally impressed and let me go without another word--speechless!! I say priceless!
The second option, is a shoulder holster--this rig is put on something like a vest and holds the pistol on the left (so a right-handed person can reach over and grab it for good effect) and the loaded magazines on the right. There is something satisfying about the nearness of the cold, heavy steel--I think it potentiates the testosterone receptors or up regulates serotonin production or whatever... The shoulder rig looks serious and you feel serious when you wear it--even if you are also wearing bunny ears. Trust me, I know. Of course, if you try to do a cartwheel, or even bend over, while wearing the shoulder holster the weapon will flip about and whack you upside the head. From personal observation I can tell you that jumping jacks are particularly dangerous as both the weapon AND the loaded (i.e. heavy) magazines will impact either side of your head simultaneously causing great harm to body and ego.
Here are pictures of both setups.
The concealed weapon look (note that the blouse is lifted up so you can even see the weapon, otherwise you wouldn't even know it was there... unless the weight of it pulled my pants down, but I tend to keep my belt cinched up for just that reason)
The exposed weapon look (note the in-your-face, cannot-ignore-it statement: I have a weapon)
Now, I realize the uniform and the exposed weapon are scary-looking; I hope no one peed their pants or passed out (although I suspect expect any pants-peeing or out-passing might be due to laughter vice fear). But, that may be the main advantage of the shoulder holster.
So, my fashion dilemma is laid before you: the comfort, clean sartorial lines and secret "sneakiness" of the concealed-weapon look that risks holes in the pocket and the embarrassment of a weapon sliding out my pant leg...
OR
the practical, intimidating (with or without bunny ears) militancy of the exposed weapon look that risks mild traumatic brain injury if I ever give in to the ever-present urge to skip.
I leave it to you to decide. All of you... e-mail peg (pegfaix@gmail.com) and let her know your thoughts on the matter. She will collect, aggregate, collate, separate and tally the votes and then tell me what to do--it will be just like home!! So, please, e-mail her quickly. Have your children, parents, friends, colleagues, and pets send their opinion also... (unless you are voting in Florida or Michigan, in which case you vote is null and void because you were too early) Fashion democracy at its best!!
I mentioned in a previous post that I had recently purchased a new holster from an online purveyor of military/tactical gear using the "internets". The issue was that the standard issue holster is a real pain to use. It fits on a belt, the big thick green belt that holds your canteens and such; and nobody carries canteens, leastwise on base, because every other block there are pallets and pallets of bottled water. (In fact, there is a place on base called the Oasis where they have a water-filtration and bottling plant that turns out ten of thousands of gallons of bottled water--although they come in 1.5 liter bottles.) So, there is this big belt with a holster that you can wear--both items being olive drab green which doesn't match the uniform at all (fashion police!!). If you wear this belt/holster get-up you are screwed: 1) wear it outside your blouse (the camouflage uniform shirt which is worn un-tucked) and restrict access to both the pockets on the blouse and your standard pants pockets--not good because you have to CONSTANTLY reach into said pockets to get out your ID card, or 2) wear it under the blouse where it looks funny in a lumpy sort of way, you cannot reach the weapon if, heaven forbid, you actually need it, and the blouse constantly rides up over it and simply ruins the line and cut of the uniform. As I said, unsatisfactory.
What to do? For the first several weeks I was in theater, when I still had hopes of buying a holster here, I carried the pistol in my left front pants pocket--you might think this obvious, and it is, but quite simply NOBODY does this... it is a fashion risk. Some would say it is risky in other areas too, like "what happens if the weapon goes off while in your pocket?" The fact is, on base, we keep our weapons in "condition green"--think of the terror alert colors, as they progress from green to yellow to red the weapon becomes more dangerous--which is unloaded and no magazine in the weapon. The magazine with the bullets is kept in another pocket in this scenario--the right bottom blouse pocket, if you must know, and you must. When you go with the pocket option you feel sneaky, because you are carrying a "concealed" weapon. Fact is, everyone (active duty military for sure, Blackwater maybe) is supposed to be carrying a weapon at all times--unless PTing (physical training, exercising). You cannot go into the chow hall (or anywhere else for that matter) without a weapon--occasionally the guards at the chow hall will stop a person (me) with no obvious weapon and ask "where is your weapon?" in their cute and polite Ugandan accents. Their eyes get quite wide when you whip a pistol out of your pocket!! Oftentimes that is enough for them to allow passage, but sometimes their curiosity gets the better of them and they ask where the ammo is. Needless to say, they are equally impressed and let me go without another word--speechless!! I say priceless!
The second option, is a shoulder holster--this rig is put on something like a vest and holds the pistol on the left (so a right-handed person can reach over and grab it for good effect) and the loaded magazines on the right. There is something satisfying about the nearness of the cold, heavy steel--I think it potentiates the testosterone receptors or up regulates serotonin production or whatever... The shoulder rig looks serious and you feel serious when you wear it--even if you are also wearing bunny ears. Trust me, I know. Of course, if you try to do a cartwheel, or even bend over, while wearing the shoulder holster the weapon will flip about and whack you upside the head. From personal observation I can tell you that jumping jacks are particularly dangerous as both the weapon AND the loaded (i.e. heavy) magazines will impact either side of your head simultaneously causing great harm to body and ego.
Here are pictures of both setups.
The concealed weapon look (note that the blouse is lifted up so you can even see the weapon, otherwise you wouldn't even know it was there... unless the weight of it pulled my pants down, but I tend to keep my belt cinched up for just that reason)
The exposed weapon look (note the in-your-face, cannot-ignore-it statement: I have a weapon)
Now, I realize the uniform and the exposed weapon are scary-looking; I hope no one peed their pants or passed out (although I suspect expect any pants-peeing or out-passing might be due to laughter vice fear). But, that may be the main advantage of the shoulder holster.
So, my fashion dilemma is laid before you: the comfort, clean sartorial lines and secret "sneakiness" of the concealed-weapon look that risks holes in the pocket and the embarrassment of a weapon sliding out my pant leg...
OR
the practical, intimidating (with or without bunny ears) militancy of the exposed weapon look that risks mild traumatic brain injury if I ever give in to the ever-present urge to skip.
I leave it to you to decide. All of you... e-mail peg (pegfaix@gmail.com
Monday, March 24, 2008
4000
It has been almost exactly 24 hours since we broke the 4000 dead from battle wounds mark here in Iraq--a dubious milestone coming so soon after the five-year mark. This article in the New York Times was a real heart-breaker/and tear-jerker. Here is a quote that caught my eye:
I will plead the fifth on those charges; but, the fact is, that keeping up with the rhythms of home, celebrations, and school is important. It keeps the link strong, it keeps the craziness outside one's head from coming in...
I am lucky that my job is to keep people healthy and not to deal with the after-effects (usually) of suicide bombers or IEDs. Despite the occasional threat of random mortars/rockets, I am have it pretty safe and secure here.
I regret and painfully feel every minute that I lose with my family, home, friends, and even my job back home, but my (and my family's) sacrifice pales in comparison to the men and women that are out on the front lines... a moment for them...
In excerpts published here from journals, blogs and e-mail messages, five soldiers who died in the most recent group of 1,000 mostly skim the alarming particulars of combat, a kindness shown their relatives and close friends. Instead, they plunge readily into the mundane, but no less important rhythms of home. They fire off comments about holiday celebrations, impending weddings, credit card bills, school antics and the creeping anxiety of family members who are coping with one deployment too many.
I will plead the fifth on those charges; but, the fact is, that keeping up with the rhythms of home, celebrations, and school is important. It keeps the link strong, it keeps the craziness outside one's head from coming in...
I am lucky that my job is to keep people healthy and not to deal with the after-effects (usually) of suicide bombers or IEDs. Despite the occasional threat of random mortars/rockets, I am have it pretty safe and secure here.
I regret and painfully feel every minute that I lose with my family, home, friends, and even my job back home, but my (and my family's) sacrifice pales in comparison to the men and women that are out on the front lines... a moment for them...
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Color
Last time I was here, I painted my door a bright cheery yellow to get some color among all the brown-ness. this time I was lucky enough to be the recipient of a donation of some intensely colored and festive rugs--well, not rugs, let's call them floor treatments or straw mats. I have also, of late, obtained a small fridge, microwave and even a coffee pot--nobody believe that a Navy guy doesn't drink coffee so they insisted I take it--which is useful for making hot water. All of these fine items are on view in this new pic of my humble abode.
After a few days though, it became clear that there was too much color for even me; in fact, too much color for the floor treatments themselves, as they shared their color with anything they touched. My lovely faux-wood floor was becoming purple, the kind of purple that mopping doesn't affect. If I picked up the "rugs" to sweep, my pants and hands took on a certain festive hue... So, the rugs went in the trash-the Army thinks this Navy guy is eccentric enough without wearing purple camouflage!
Now the room looks like this:
The eagle-eyed among you (or if you like those puzzles in the newspaper with two pictures and eight differences between them) will note that there has been some serious rearrangement of the furniture in my life. The desktop now sits upon my two nightstand/endtables and the second bed has been dismantled and stored between my bed and the wall, except for the vertical endpieces which, as part of the bunkbed setup, sit nicely on top of my bedframe and give some nice height and a place to hang stuff. And, as a replacement for the lost color in my life, I now have the cards that all of you (thanks so very much) have sent and, most importantly, original artwork from a talented young artist that many of you know as Izzy.
PS: when I downloaded the above pics from my camera I also found the below pics of the artist herself (sitting at the fountain in Balboa Park shortly before my departure).
After a few days though, it became clear that there was too much color for even me; in fact, too much color for the floor treatments themselves, as they shared their color with anything they touched. My lovely faux-wood floor was becoming purple, the kind of purple that mopping doesn't affect. If I picked up the "rugs" to sweep, my pants and hands took on a certain festive hue... So, the rugs went in the trash-the Army thinks this Navy guy is eccentric enough without wearing purple camouflage!
Now the room looks like this:
The eagle-eyed among you (or if you like those puzzles in the newspaper with two pictures and eight differences between them) will note that there has been some serious rearrangement of the furniture in my life. The desktop now sits upon my two nightstand/endtables and the second bed has been dismantled and stored between my bed and the wall, except for the vertical endpieces which, as part of the bunkbed setup, sit nicely on top of my bedframe and give some nice height and a place to hang stuff. And, as a replacement for the lost color in my life, I now have the cards that all of you (thanks so very much) have sent and, most importantly, original artwork from a talented young artist that many of you know as Izzy.
PS: when I downloaded the above pics from my camera I also found the below pics of the artist herself (sitting at the fountain in Balboa Park shortly before my departure).
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