Our weather has been wild this week. We have had a couple of really nice spring days interspersed with rain and wet snow. It seems that we will have one nice sunny day and then the next is a miserable day. If it is going to snow, I wish it would just do it instead of providing a wet slush on everything. It does keep the dust down, but I would rather have a sea of white as opposed to chilliness with mud.
CD and I have not had much success lately in the way of getting a poker game together. We are in the midst of a transition where the guys that we live and work with are rotating out while their replacements are filtering in. It really is a scientific process that is held in the strictest form of confidentiality and controlled at the highest levels of the government. In any regard, the out-going guys are more concerned with getting their stuff together and packed and preparing to go state-side while the in-coming guys are trying to get settled. All this means no poker. Once again, I will lament not having our MI (Military Intelligence or Mostly Inside; you pick) buddies around for those super Saturday poker nights.
I received a box from Dad and Sharon the other day that was filled with goodness (you know, beverages, teas, comedy CDs from Norm and Theresa) and an item that has changed my life. Please remember that life is simple here and sometimes a simple invention that all-you-all take for granted back there makes the difference in the standard of living here. What is this glorious item you ask; well I’m getting there. It is an ice tray. Yeah, 50 cents of life changing glory! Ever since I got my little refrigerator back in Week 13, I have been producing ice cubes via the little plastic cups that the individual margarine pats come in. Those little thumb-sized one inch in diameter cups were virtually perfect for making ice in except I only had a total of four of them and I had yet to attach the cups to one platform to keep them together, so they were awkward. Four small ice cubes at one time barely a drink makes. So, I was living pretty well with one American style drink a day.
However, I received eight ice trays; four of which produce 60 of the finest ice cubes you ever laid a tongue on. That’s 240 fragments of frozen ecstasy possible at any one time. I had to slightly modify the trays as I can only put two in my freezer portion of my refrigerator simultaneously, but now I can stage the trays and keep a floe (pun intended) of ice going virtually all of the time. Wow! I’m sure you now realize that my introduction when meeting new people has now changed. It goes something like this: “Hi, I’m Craig. I do armor here and I have ice trays!” It’s better than being Brad Pitt!
There is no doubt that Dobbie is tired of me whining about getting my hair cut. I know this because he has offered to do it himself. The guy is certainly talented with power tools, welders, air saws, and coffee makers, but I’m just a bit leery of his shearing prowess. Why all of this discussion about a hair cut? Really, it’s because I need one. I have decided to grow my hair a little longer than the same ‘do I have been sporting for the last twenty years. I normally get a cut every two weeks, but have been stretching this out to three weeks. Anyway, we have four locations here on Bagram to get our hair cut by paid professionals (well, you could argue whether or not they are professionals, but they cut hair for money), one of which is the upscale ‘Beauty Salon’ that is populated by local beauties who may rate a four on the L.A. scale and charge 12 American large instead of $5.25 at the other three. I have yet to go to the Beauty Salon, but finally ventured in there after a few days of trying to get my hair cut at the other three locations and not wanting to wait in the lines of soldiers who are there to get a hair cut. Dobbie was with me and we walked into the Beauty Salon at 2030 local. There were soldiers sitting around waiting. He suggested I wait while he went back to his hooch. The Beauty Salon is open until 2230 and for mere seconds, I contemplated coming back just before closing. Nope, I’ll just have to wait another day or two or take CD up on his offer. In the meantime, I’m feeling shaggy.
As some of you know from the early Weeklies, I have developed a taste for teas since I have been here. I have been sent gobs by Mom and Kris or acquired nearly 20 different types of teas, and have been drinking them all; however some are better than others. I know you’re surprised by this revelation, but I thought I would pass my months of experience on to you fine folks out there who probably have better things to do with your seven minutes a day of freedom from everyday life. I have taken the liberty of attaching an Excel spreadsheet that I have appropriately named Tea Snobbery (by the time I have completed this propaganda, I will probably have attached a review of each as well) with ratings given each tea in five categories and an average for an Overall rating. The ratings are mine and are not influenced by anyone or anything else. Take them or leave them, the choice is yours.
These teas are designed as hot teas so I have not tried them cold. I suppose I could try them as iced teas especially since I now have ice trays, but that may have to wait until the weather here starts to get closer to Death Valley. In any regard, there are my ratings. As a special bonus, I am willing to throw my taste buds into abandon and sample any teas that are not on that list. Obviously I would need the teas in my possession to accomplish that task and it is as easy as you folks throwing a couple of bags in an envelope and sending them this way. Two bags are the bare minimum for sampling; however in some cases only one will be tasted. I will publish my results in the Other Side of the Earth Journal that accepts no form of advertising or cash, so please do not send thousands of dollars with your tea bags in hopes that I will give it high marks. The rating is independent of outside lobbying and I will only use your cash to buy frivolous things like food and beer.
Speaking of food, the chow here has not improved one iota even with my intense evasion campaign. You almost feel obligated to give the King Crab a seventh and eighth try. It looks right as long as you can get past the smell and the rubbery exterior, but the water-logged and overcooked meat keeps telling me I should leave it alone. I continually try to avoid it, but the crab calls to me on some unconscious level and compels me to try it again and again. There is no doubt that I will eventually be able to escape the lure of King Crab and leave it alone for eternity. Won’t that be fun when I get home?
Hey, I mentioned beer earlier and I must give you an update. In our lulls between vehicle and product availability, I am building my brewing empire. Primarily it has been a matter of acquiring the requisite accessories through online purchases, the Q underground, and local five-finger bartering. Within the next week or two, I should be able to start full-fledged production. The initial intent is to produce four seasonal varieties using primarily western ingredients with local flair. I plan to ferment them a little longer than normal and bottle them at the height of perfection. I am confident that it will take me a few batches to get the brews to the harmonious level of excellence that I expect. I’ll obviously have to do something with the sub-par batches until Nirvana is achieved. I may even be able to export some of my wares back to you fabulous people. I’ll keep you informed.
Dobbie and I have been keeping ourselves quite busy lately with templating our most recent crop of vehicles. This entails dismantling the interior of the cars, measuring locations, and producing a panel out of a type of Styrofoam this fits exactly. This is not difficult work, but it is time-consuming. The idea is to produce an exact Styrofoam template that perfectly resembles the armor we request through the use of a 3D graphics program on our computer. We then email a non-classified version of the template to our company which produces the panel to demanding specifications and sends us the product for installation. The concept is really quite simple and the use of the Styrofoam is to prevent mistakes. Additionally, we have a 42 inch plotter that we use to print out our 3D version to ensure it matches the Styrofoam. Talk about easy. The hard part is putting the actual product into the vehicles. I’ll tell you more about that process in a later Weekly.
As I hear frequently, people here on Bagram believe Dobbie and I are living the high life. Whenever we wind up chatting with someone who we come into contact with and mention that we live on Camp Vance, people always say we are living the high life, or living well, or some other phrase that implies the upper crust of societal paradise. In comparison to my 1800 square foot mansion in Tacoma, I am not living too well at all (and I always thought that house was small). However when compared to other locations here on Bagram, I guess we do OK. For me, it is more about the simple things like ice trays and internet connections. Sure Camp Vance is enclosed and has its own gates where the Special Operations folks roam free without headgear and do not salute. I guess it’s kind of like Club Med for the military folks. All the necessities of military living are here inside of Camp Vance. That does not necessarily hold true for the rest of the camps and buildings here on Bagram. So maybe, just maybe those people are correct.
I think I am living the high life here partially because of some of my possessions, like the two aforementioned, and some others such as my refrigerator, and M.I.T. approved, gravity-defying TV shelf with TV and DVD player. Yes, I also have a 250GB external hard drive crammed with digital music and pictures, and a budding DVD collection that rivals some small countries. I cherish my down comforter and rely heavily upon my digital indoor/outdoor thermometer / weather forecaster and my iPod which makes being here a whole lot easier. But, the real reason I think I am living the high life is because of the contact I have with you folks. The letters and emails and packages are truly wonderful and make being in Afghanistan almost bearable (almost). I sincerely appreciate all of your efforts.
Well, you guys finally went and did it. You switched to Daylight Savings Time early. Just when I had finally gotten used to being 9.5 hours ahead of the East Coast and 12.5 hours ahead of the West Coast, you had to change it. I didn’t change here. As a matter of fact, Afghanistan has no intention of instituting a DST until 2009 at the earliest. Now that hour difference means I am only 11.5 hours ahead of Kris and the kids. It is changing the times we talk with each other. I am hoping the change is for the better with regard to my schedule and hers. We’ll have to see how that works out. Anyhoo, you’ll have to let me know how that extra three weeks up front of DST has made a difference in life back there. I am certain it is for the better.
OK, I’ve gotta put this to bed and get it out. Oh the picture, yeah, um let’s see… I’ll attach a picture of us with a Jingle Truck. Yeah, the Jingle Truck! The locals paint and decorate their POS trucks with all kinds of crap to include these jingly chains from the bumpers and sides. If you look closely, you can see these chains hanging from the front bumper. They get their names from the sound of these chains as the trucks pass by. Obviously this picture was taken when Ed was still here.
Tune in next week as I dispel a myth about Geckos, explain why I only have four pictures on my foam picture board, and uncover the truth about random acts of kindness. Nope, no religious sermon here, just the facts!
Later,
Craig
