Sorry it's been so long... I have been working on it, though!

28AUG08
 
This week has been pretty rough. There are some days where you just want to call home and tell everyone not to get in a vehicle because everyone is dying in car or motorcycle accidents and other days when pneumonia is the leading cause of death of everyone. Sometimes babies die; sometimes soldiers cry. You might receive a message for someone you talk to all the time… praying as you dial that the person does not pick up the phone to receive his/her personally devastating news. It's just one of those weeks. It's not pretty, but we signed up for it. Just pile all the crappy messages together with lack of sleep, and you've got me!
 
I don't want anyone to get the impression that I'm upset (or depressed or whatever) about being here. Having some down days comes with the territory of dealing with death and dying as a job. I still love my job; I still love it here. Sometimes it's just easier to write about a couple bad things that stick out than a whole lot of little good things that just normally happen every day.
 
Let's see. More news.
 
I had my first real bout of sickness from DFAC food since I've been here. It was unpleasant, and we'll leave it at that. Trust me.
 
At first, I thought my skin and I would be fine out here in the desert. After over a month, I'm finally feeling the effects of the desert climate: dry skin. It makes you so itchy, but if you scratch too much you break skin because it's stretched thin. Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate. Lotion, lotion, lotion. Fun, fun, fun.
 
I had a girl day (a couple of hours when I dressed – only in my CHU, mind you – in civilian clothes and did my hair) to remind myself that, despite the perpetual wearing of camouflage, I am, in fact, still a girl! What I wouldn't give for a good pair of pretty heels out here in the desert!! Ok, in honesty, that's totally impractical and I'd probably have two broken ankles or 15 blisters (or all of the above) in about five minutes. Scratch the heels.
 
Jerry had this great idea for a combat bicycle race, so that's what our Saturday morning is going to consist of: starting at 0415 we get to come together, get food and water ready, register people, take pictures (and/or video if we can get it approved), and watch people hop on their bikes with their flak vests and Kevlar helmets and ride 4k over sand and rock. It should be interesting!!
 
I am kind of heading up decorations at a September 11 Prayer Luncheon to which I am looking forward.
 
I guess that's all for now, so I'll practice my new lingo: Deuces!
 
 
08SEP08
 
Currently it's 1515, and I'm sitting awake in my CHU. I guarantee you, this rarely happens (since this is directly in the middle of my sleep), and by rarely I mean maybe three times since I've been here. We are, however, in the midst of the most severe dust storm I have ever witnessed. I originally thought it was raining outside because… well, it sounds like rain hitting the roof. Since my window is blacked out (day sleeper), I walked to the common area where the window is covered, but not blacked. Everything seemed to have an orange-ish hue. It still didn't register (in my defense, I had just rudely been awakened). So, I cracked the door.
 
Can't see (eyes refuse to focus properly when there's bright light and one first wakes up)! Sniff. Close the door. Try to wake the eyes up. Crack the door again. Everything is orange. I have never seen anything so orange in my life, but it's not a normal hue of orange. It's more red-orange, almost like a fire glowing near the embers. It's unbelievable. Shut the door. It smells. Get the camera (the crappy one for just these times). Crack the door. Take a picture. Crap! Flash! (The flash in a dust storm will highlight the 15 million particles DIRECTLY in front of the camera but will basically not be useful otherwise; however, there is still an orange glow in the picture). Shut the door. Wait for the camera to take its time being ready to snap another. Turn the flash off. Steady the hands. Orange picture extraordinaire. Close the door.
 
It's beautiful, really… in a disgusting, smelly, dirty way. I walked back into my room and turned off the air conditioner. It really can have no positive effect right now. Even with the few minutes since the storm has started, I can already smell the dust in my room from the a/c and see a bit of a haze. Hopefully most of that will be avoided once it's completely off. I sit down on my bed and decide to write this blog. The CHU is shaking with the force of the wind. It still sounds like there is rain pouring down in different levels of intensity: sometimes loudly and without interruption, sometimes just a few spurts in a minute. After 20 minutes it seems to have calmed down. There is no shaking; there is no "raining". There is still, always, perpetually, the smell.
 
Time to go take out the contacts and try to get some more sleep.
 
…10 minutes later…
 
I stand corrected. I just opened my door and realized that there was no more orange hue from the outside world. Naturally this piques my curiosity and I crack the door. There is no orange, there is no dust smell (why it's still in my room, I'm unsure). There is, however, the smell of a springtime rain storm having just passed (not your typical scent in the desert, I assure you). I swing wide the door to explore further, and yes, it must be true: it just rained. I hesitantly tap the toe of my socked foot on the step – dry as bone. In the ten minutes since the storm passed, the natural heat has also dried everything. I step fully onto the step and with my eyes explore my surroundings. First I look at my bike seat, which would normally be covered with a thin layer of dust (or thick layer depending on the dust storm status). It has large mud droplets on it. The steps' railing is the same. I look at the CHU across from mine: covered with mud
splatters. The only wet evidence lies in the fact that the dust is unusually darker than it usually appears – surefire evidence of rain… if you're in the States. Apparently it rains orange mud in Iraq, completely unlike any rain I have ever seen.
 
I think one of the most puzzling things about this experience is that there is very little shelter once the common area door is opened, which I opened a few times to snap some photos. Never did I feel the semblance of any type of moisture, despite the whipping wind and lack of overhanging shelter. Chalk another one up to new experiences in Iraq – raining mud.
 
And I had already put on my glasses. Bummer. Now, sleep.