Helo, Goodbye

I’m one of the “non-essential employees” who got evacuated from Baghdad last week. Or maybe it was earlier this week. At this point, I have no idea what day it is. Everything’s a blur, but I’ve just arrived to DC today. However, my arrival is on schedule for my R&R – they let me continue that more or less as planned.

We showed “Avengers: Endgame” on Wednesday, May 8, after I got home from Erbil. Even though I’d planned on seeing it either that day or the next – we had five showings over those two days – I decided to ease my way back into the embassy’s prison-lite life. There are so many more people in Baghdad than Erbil, and it’s an adjustment to return. The first night, when I walked from my apartment to the cafeteria, I didn’t see a single person I knew. That’s in contrast to Erbil, where you know everyone.

Point being, it took me a couple of days to get up to full speed in Baghdad. My first days were spent unloading a month’s luggage and loading up for R&R, for which I was leaving on Thursday, May 16. My Istanbul flight left on the 17^th but since it was a morning flight I was supposed to overnight at our airport facility.

My working assignment was in the economic department, which was really returning home because I’d been there for over a month before the month in Erbil. And when I got there – work on Sunday – I started hearing whispers that some people might be sent home. Since I was headed for R&R, this didn’t concern me, although I did joke that I gave it 30 percent odds that I wouldn’t come home. I’m nothing if not consistent, but when I said this one day people would laugh, but then the second day, I’d get a little tight-lipped “mmm” in response.

With absolutely no idea what was going on, I tried to re-think my packing. You get 50 pounds on the flight, and my bag originally had 38 pounds of crap, mostly for Wendy. I shipped a couple of flat-rate packages, including sending the toiletries I could fit into a box to Minsk. My thought on that was, on the odd chance I didn’t come back (still giving it 30 percent odds), someone else would have to pack up my stuff and there was no way that would make the cut. Since eventually I hope that stuff would join me in Minsk and I know someone there, I sent it there.

Monday, my second work day of the week, the possibility of leaving and not coming back seemed more real, and I asked for a second bag for my R&R. I figured I’d just throw in more clothes just in case I had to report back to DC, and I was still thinking I was leaving on Thursday night. I had no reason not to; my boss never said a word to me about anything. In all embassies and consulates, there are lists of people who would stay or go in any situation. Normally, people’s bosses would relay that information to them, but that never happened to me. I’m not stupid, though; my position is being eliminated, so I knew there’d be no way my position could be considered essentially, but it would have been nice to have received some kind of official word, you know?

But the economic boss kept me up to date with everything, not that there were any decisions handed down. However, when the second-in-command of the section pulled me aside and said, “you should pack,” on Monday night, I went home and packed, but I still continued with my full workout routine first. I fully figured on leaving on Thursday night for my Friday flight to Istanbul.

However, I figured if whatever hit the fan and people left, I would not be able to take my extra bag, so I shipped more stuff. I paid $40 in postage to ship some sheets that someone gave me to Florida, and I threw in my much-loved stuffed dog and something else that was lying around, maybe my tennis shoes. I sent my spices to Minsk – more that would have been left behind – and something else to Florida, but I really don’t know what it was.

That became the theme. I kept switching stuff, trying to figure out what to pack if I had to go to DC (which is where we’d be evacuated to) or if I went to on with R&R as planned. Just no idea, and Tuesday was more of the same, only more intense. People started shredding and then there was an announcement that there’d be a meeting the next morning to tell us what was going on.

Tuesday night, I only did half my workout routine and continued packing up the apartment. Everything – everything in my entire apartment – got piled up in the living room, so if someone has to come later and throw it all in boxes, it’s all there. I didn’t bring much, but it’s still a giant pile and I hope to see it again. And at that point, it became real that I might be leaving and not coming back, especially when I got a message from my colleague who’d said she’d heard we’d be on the first flight out.

Sleep was out the window at that point, obviously, and I was up until around midnight packing, then couldn’t sleep so I threw in laundry. A late-night email from people higher than my boss said that people needed to be ready to leave after the meeting. That will keep you awake. I put the laundry in the dryer at 5 a.m., resumed packing and then grabbed breakfast. On the walk to the cafeteria, I put out the last two “kindness rocks” I’d painted. One I’d intended to keep but I couldn’t spare the room. It said “bright spot,” and I hope it makes someone’s day later but that morning, it was beyond stressful.

After breakfast, I unloaded my clothes from the dryer, tried to pack again and send off last-minute packages. A friend called and said she’d heard we were on the first flight out, which was the second time I’d heard that. At 7:15, I went into the office to print post-office labels, ran back to mail the stuff (and I hope it eventually arrives) and then went back into the office to shred stuff.

I’m not a paper person. As much as I write, I don’t print. It kills me when people print stuff, and holy cow, the crap we had lying around. I found this big fancy ring binder with a detailed schedule on some VIP visit from 2015! Seriously, don’t print that out. And if you do, don’t put it in a hardbound binder. And if, for some reason that has to be rooted in arrogancy, you do, shred the damn thing when it’s over. C’mon people!

And CDs. Geez, Louis. We’re not even allowed to put CDs into our computers, so why keep these things you get at news conferences or wherever? Don’t take them, but if you take them, shred them as soon as you can. What is the point of keeping things around that you cannot use, or are useless? Good grief.

I was busy up until the meeting time, and everyone and their brother came, like hundreds of people. The place was jam-packed and I went up to the second floor to listen.

The big boss started talking about this and that, then announced we were leaving. He waxed on about the good work that’s taken place since he’s been here and overall, and talked about this and that. I get that he was trying to thank us all, but at that point, there were hundreds of people in the room who just wanted to know what the plan was. Finally, he passed it over to the logistical people, who then rambled on about this and that.

As an organization, we’re not good at getting around to the point. There’s even a movement to try to do that when you’re writing. Since we have acronyms for everything, and they call it BLUF – Bottom Line Up Front. I call that DUH. Don’t bury the news; put it in the lede. And that’s what we all felt like at the meeting. After much talk, they finally dropped the nugget that people would start leaving at 3 p.m. that same day. After a lot of beating around the bush, we gleaned that those people would need to be ready to go at noon, which was about an hour and a half from that announcement. The announcement had come about the same time we were told that at that very moment, we would receive a very detailed email with two comprehensive attachments that we’d be expected to read and complete before departure. After the meeting, the plan was for the probably 1k people in the room to come up and find their name on one of 10 copies of the flight manifests to know if/when they were departing, then go check their email and follow up with it and then go pack/finish packing. Yeah, nothing wrong with that, right?

If Pete hadn’t done it, I would have: from the balcony, he yelled, “Can you just read the manifest for the first flight?” Oh my, how simple was that? Clue in the people who have T-minute 90 minutes to get ready! Fortunately, they did that, and, although it was a bit off-putting that there were a slew of people on the list who weren’t there at the moment, we figured it out.

And I was on the first flight, though one of the people who’d told me we were both on it was not on it. I really had no clue what was going on.

Fortunately, I was allowed to keep my R&R plans, so except for having to re-purchase a $400 flight (which I am not happy about but will have to get over), my life is continuing as planned – at least for the moment. All bets are off on or about June 6 – I was originally headed back to Baghdad that day but now have to go to DC instead – but at the moment I’m enjoying my R&R.

Istanbul, as always, was fantastic. I really didn’t do much tourist-wise. I did my favorite walk from the tower over the bridge, but that really was it. Mostly, I went into the office and hung out with my colleagues. And you know, work is so much fun when you don’t work! I just hung out in the cafeteria and drank tea and visited with people. That probably sounds geeky and lame to people who have never been to Istanbul, but although I think it’s the best city in the entire world, what I mostly miss are people. I had a wonderful time visiting everyone and just a lovely time walking around. I miss it.

I’ll miss Baghdad, too, but for different reasons. And although other people will be back, I seriously doubt I will. Since my position was being eliminated, it doesn’t make sense that they’d send me back. I’m realistic about that. It’s sad to me, since I went in for 20 months and had hoped to add a second year and wound up only being there eight months, but maybe down the road I can sign up again.

I’m going to miss it, for sure. I took my last helo ride out and just tried to enjoy the view, even though that trip in particular was very unsettling.

This job is very much “needs of service” and I get it. My life is in upheaval right now, but I’m not stressed out about it. I have a job and will continue to have a job. Lots will change, but I’m still employed, and there’s still a lot to be thankful for.

Heading back and beating the odds

Made it safely back to Baghdad, and I’m glad to be back. It’s funny because I really love both places but they are vastly different. Walking the three-minute walk from my apartment to the cafeteria the first evening back in Baghdad, I didn’t see a single person I knew. That’s in contrast to Erbil, where in a month, you’ve met 90 percent of the people on the little campus, and you see them all the time.

I was the only one headed from the consulate back, so I had a whole motorcade to myself. The flight, which is our plane, picked up three other passengers at the other airport stop, but that was it. One of them was going all the way in my direction and let me catch a ride in their motor pool car, for which I was grateful because otherwise I had a 30-minute wait for the shuttle. And I got door-to-door service, which was nice because I had a 50-pound bag.

The Big Boss acting as photographer

Yes, I unloaded most of the food but I brought back a bunch of stuff, too. Now I’m repacking for my R&R, which starts in about a week, and, without adding a stitch of clothing, the bag is already up to 38 pounds. This is mostly thanks to Wendy, for whom I have a bunch of hand-me-down stuff that includes a really nice king-sized sheet set that’s unbelievably thick. Since I’m not planning on picking anything up on R&R, I’m going to have an amazingly empty bag going back.

This time next week, I should be in Istanbul, and I have nothing at all set. I’m looking forward to visiting friends and have a couple ideas of things to do, but since the bag is already overloaded, it’s not like I’m going to pick up anything.

I’ve got a few stops before I get to Florida, and one of those is my Peace Corps reunion. It’s only over a weekend, but because I won’t have made it to Florida by the time I go, I will still be lugging this massive suitcase, plus a backpack. My Peace Corps cohort is going to think that I’m nuts.

Once I get to Florida, I think I should consider playing the lottery. I’m on a role beating the odds. I got a jury summons for, by sheer coincidence, for the day after I’m due to arrive in Tallahassee. It’s really incredible. Not only do I work in Iraq, but I’ve never taken an R&R back to America, so, in no world should this have happened, but it did. I’ve had people tell me I should be able to get out of it, but I have no intention to. I mean, why not? I’m still a good citizen, even though I live away. Really, I could probably be the most objective person ever because I have absolutely no idea what’s going on; it’s not like I intricately follow Tallahassee news. Still, I’d be surprised if I get selected. The only other time I made it to the selection process (Gadsden County), they seated the jury before they got to me. We’ll see. I will need to make sure I have a book or something, though. Last time, I vaguely remember doing Christmas cards. So long as I can get back, I’m fine with it. Plus, any day I wind up reporting, I don’t have to use as a vacation day.

Once I get back to Baghdad, it’s a long haul until my next R&R. The current plan is to aim for August, and, unlike my first two, there’s no potential TDY to Erbil prior. That helps the psyche a lot. It’s still work – and this time around, it was a TON of work – but it’s such a change of pace that it makes everything fresh and new again, both up there and upon return to the 100-Acre sandbox.

But after August, it’s completely downhill. The jury is still out on my last day, but I’m hoping it will be the very end of September. It’s either that or Sept. 21, so it’s really just a matter of another week but I’d like to stretch this out as much as possible. I really do love it here and hope to be able to get back in a couple years.

The target is to be in Tallahassee for the first couple weeks in October. Sadly, FSU will be on the road but at least I’ll be in the same time zone.

I got out

Gali Ali Bag  Waterfall

Today, something happened that I never would have expected: I got out. Beyond a grocery store run and more than the orchestra performance I was fortunate to be able to attend last week. Today, I tagged along on a road trip!

By sheer fate, the head PR person finished her tour, leaving moving up the regular No. 2 a spot. By no fault of his own, he’s a man. So is the top dog here, plus a facet of the entire security team.

Since the Top Dog’s job is to represent America, we send him out in the field to do so. Normally, this means visiting local businesses and such but sometimes there are day trips that make several stops to mix and mingle with people. But since America is half-filled with women (or half-empty with men, I suppose, depending on your view), I and another woman were asked to go along for the ride. OF COURSE! I never would have thought I’d be able to wander around Iraq.

Bekhal Waterfalls

 Well, of course I didn’t. We never wander. Everything’s pretty scripted and set up in advance, and we’re pretty careful driving around, so I knew in advance I’d see three sets of waterfalls, and, since I love moving water, knew those would be highlights. And I was right, although not just because of the beauty of roaring water.

The Bekhal Waterfalls, the biggest ones we saw, are in what’s now a summer resort area in Kurdistan. There are viewing platforms on three levels, giving pretty cool views of the falls and rock formations. We were dropped off at the top level, joining a handful of other tourists. The place is a really popular spot, but we had crappy weather in the morning so that kept most people home. But in that handful of folks, there were a group of guys who were immediately struck by a redhead and a blonde. Polite but not shy, they asked for photos with me first and then my colleague, and we had quite the photo shoot going. At one point – my absolute highlight – as I am my colleague were surrounded by 5-7 young Kurdish men, another handed his camera to Top Dog and asked him to take our pictures.

View from the Citadel

We had a picnic lunch at the second set of falls in Kani Maran, where the most we got was a gentleman hanging out of a passing car and professing his love to one of us. I’m not sure which, but, to be fair, he probably didn’t care, either.

At the Geli Ali Beg waterfall, which was at one time featured on the back of the Iraqi 5-dinar note, a couple of groups of young women wanted their photos with us. Again, the men were ignored but the two women in the group posed and posed.

Our first stop of the morning had been at a citadel about 45 minutes outside of Erbil, which, 200 years ago, was fortified with about 50 soldiers who guarded the roads. It was my first view of the greenery of the Kurdistan region. Except for the rocks, it could have been Ireland.

Leftover Easter candles at the shrine

Really, driving was a great way to see the area. Not that I drove, obviously. I was in the third-row seat of a Suburban, straining to see out the window. Those things are almost as bad as airplane seats; they were definitely not at eye level. And the rows are so long, I couldn’t crane my head over to see out the other window because I was belted in. But eventually, I got views of both sides, because as we climbed hills and mountains, the roads switched back and forth.

The most arduous part of the trip was a stop at the Shrine of Raban Boya, a site popular with Christians and Muslims. There’s a monastery above the shrine, and there’s been one there for 1,500 years. Our second stop on the trip, the skies unleashed halfway up the climb, which was kind of brutal since the “stairs,” such as were, gave way to rock-covered switchbacks about a quarter of the way up. Fortunately, no one fell to their death, or even tripped badly enough to fall, which would have hurt pretty bad. The rocks were pretty jagged and it was rough, especially with an umbrella in one hand, but all I could think of was, “I climbed Tiger’s Nest, I can do this.” And I made it!

The single cynic in me loved this.
True love cracked.

The shrine itself was not really a huge deal, but it was kind of cool because, being so recently after Easter, Christians had come and lit candles, so I tried to do some artsy pictures. Plus, the views were gorgeous, and, of course, no one had died.

The trip down scared me far more than the trip up, because you can really only fall so far up. Tumbling down through jagged rocks, though, that’s a much bigger deal. I picked my way down pretty slowly but made it in a respectable amount of time. I was pretty wet, though, but everyone was. That was the end of the rain, though, and the rest of the day was beautiful.

Outside my gym

When I got back down and to the car, I checked the “Health” status on the iPhone. Fifty flights of stairs. It sure felt like it.

Early this week, we had a nice picnic lunch at work in one of the yards of the little former houses that are now our offices. Basically, when we moved in, we just walled off a couple blocks, started paying rent and customized or modified everything. I knew there were pretty flowers, but until we had that lunch, I didn’t realize how many we had. Between that yard and the rose garden outside the gym (yes, you read that correctly; a rose garden right outside the gym) we just have so many gorgeous blooms that I decided to take photos of all of them.

Just the garden outside the gym – it’s not really big – has white, yellow, purple, pink and red varieties. The big garden, which is mostly roses but has some other flowers, too, also has some kind of spotted pink ones, orange, many shades of red/pink and several sizes. It’s just so peaceful and beautiful.

Flowers even make orange pretty.

I decided to pick one rose and take it back to the house I’m staying in, and selected this giant pink one. I’d seen what I figured I could pass off as a vase on a little-used table, but when I stuck it in there, it looked so lonely that I went back out and cut down a few more. Now I regret not thinking of doing that sooner; they’re just so cheerful.

It finally sprang

It looks like spring is here for real. We’re now here on Day Four of straight sunshine here in Kurdistan and it’s flipping gorgeous outside.

Sen. Duckworth, me and a bunch of other people.

Yesterday, we opened a new community center for hanging out. It’s a refurbished house and it’s got a couple game rooms, an exercise room, a big room and a nice rooftop area to chill. We had a big party to open it, complete with a BBQ. The head military guy here spent all week smoking pig and cow. It was fantastic. I tried to go back for more brisket, but it was gone.

Other than that, it’s just been another dull weekend. I’m working more than I did last time I was here because in addition to main gig, because I’m on three other projects at the same time. As a result, I’ve been in the office more over the weekends that I did when I was here before.

But like last time, I made it outside! I was able to do one of the grocery runs yesterday, which was cool. It’s the third store I’ve been to here. The one I went to first last time was sort of run down, but the other two were pretty modern, although yesterday, the power blipped about three times while we were in there.

That happens a lot, on a daily basis. It’s one of the reasons I tend to stick to the ellipticals here and not the treadmills. When the power cuts off, those things stop abruptly. That could be painful.

Next week, which begins on Sunday for me, might be a tad slower. Since the day I arrived, we’ve had back-to-back-to-back “visits,” which is what we call it when high-maintenance people come through. Well, the people aren’t high-maintenance in themselves, but the whole situation gets complicated because logistically, every minute of the “visit” is prescribed. (Even “comfort breaks.”)

One of the visits involved two disabled senators, Sen. Tammy Duckworth (D-IL) and Sen. John Isakson (R-GA), plus Sen. Angus King, an Independent, from Maine. Erbil is not a disabled-friendly place, but they weren’t here all that long.

Read Duckworth’s bio. She’s got a phenomenal background, and her visit here was the first time she’s returned to Iraq since she was shot down and lost her legs. Part of her trip was to visit the site where she went down. The women at the consulate had a photo op with her, but we didn’t get time for anything more.

I also did the little constituent meeting with Isakson because we don’t have a lot of people from Georgia. He went around the room – about eight people – and asked where people were from. At my turn, I explained that both my parents were from Louisiana but when Daddy graduated from college, he got a job in Attapulgus, GA and the closest city with a school was Tallahassee. I told him I’d understand if he threw me out, but he let me stay. He said he’d been to a wedding in Attapulgus and told the others present, who were mostly from little tiny towns, that their little tiny towns looked like Atlanta compared to Attapulgus. I reiterated that was the reason I’m from Florida and not Georgia.

Now I’m down to the last half of my Erbil stay. I’m glad I hit the grocery store, but honestly, I don’t need to go again. I got enough potatoes and frozen veggies to last the rest of the time and I don’t need to be tempted with cookies. I’m still working on eating my way though what I brought, but I’m doing all right. I finished the pasta and lentils and the end is in sight for the popcorn and powdered milk. Still working on the rice; I had a really big bag, but if I wind up finishing off the powered milk or powdered sugar (I brought brownie mix!), then I have a container I can downsize into.

There’s a possibility that I might get a third TDY up here, and I’d welcome that. I’m due to depart Iraq at the end of September, and from what I’ve been told, the person I’m substituting will be taking leave from the end of August until mid-September. That’d work out just fine for me.

Although I love being in Baghdad, I love it here, too. They’re very different but for me, both experiences have been positive.

A wet damper on plans

Halfway through my Erbil stay, I haven’t exactly followed through with ambitious dream of preparing for a job interview next month. Instead, I’ve been shivering and dodging raindrops.

It has been gorgeous out, though. Unfortunately, only about 30 percent of the time. When it’s gorgeous it really is fantastic. But for whatever reason, it’s been incredibly wet. Apparently it’s wetter than it’s been in 30something years. It stormed twice after 6 p.m. yesterday and kept me awake, which is weird because in Baghdad, you can’t hear anything inside the apartments. The windows are thick and I’m on a middle floor, so there’s no rain pounding on roof. Here, though, I can hear it just pounding, and my curtain is open a little and the flashes of lightning light up the whole room.

Usually, the storms don’t last for too long, but they’re brutal. And unfortunately, I didn’t pack a raincoat. Although there’s a distinct rainy season here, it’s usually over by now so I took it out. It starts in November or so, and this year it hasn’t gone five days without rain and usually there’s been way more than that.

I am sticking to the gym, and last night I had to wait out a storm in order to get there. The gym is just in a little metal building, so it’s not really a place you want to be while it’s pouring out, but it wasn’t too bad.  But maybe last night’s and today’s will be the last. Hope springs eternal, I guess.

The worst part has been, with the last three days’ rain, the chill. I’m back to not being able to get warm. The buildings have wall-mounted heaters but the walls and floors just hold in the chill. This morning, I’ve had three cups of hot tea and two cups of hot chocolate, but I’m still chilled. Mostly it’s my toes.

Since there wasn’t a lot to do after work last time, this time I brought some stuff to knock out, thinking I’d have a couple hours a night to kill. That hasn’t happened this time. First, I’m still covering a couple things from Baghdad, so I’m doing more there, but in addition to the main job here, I got added another project. As a result, I am not getting out at 5 p.m. or so like last time.  That pushes everything back, and I’ve vowed to do more than the half hour in the gym that I did last time. In Baghdad, an hour is the bare minimum and sometimes I’m in there up to three.

Except for one night where I worked until 6:30, I’ve been good on that (and that night I walked three kilometers) but that where the rest of the plan falls apart. I’m not getting to the gym until well after 6, so it’s well after 7:30 or so that I walk the two blocks home (or run, if it’s raining again), take a shower and grab a bite.

My original idea had been to commit about two hours a night to preparing for a couple of upcoming things and continuing the online Spanish. Kaput! Now I’m trying to reorganize and get a little forward progress. On this. The Spanish is probably going to go by the wayside because I didn’t get the assignment I thought I’d get, but it might switch to another language soon. Either way, it’s not the important thing. That’s the prep for this thing I have coming up and boy howdy, do I need to prep for it.

I am getting better about focusing on it in the mornings. Normally I wake up around 6, but here, except today, I’ve been up around 5 a.m. Not on purpose; who does that? The light comes in the window; when the sun is out, it’s out early. But I get up, make breakfast, check on Zippy and then have been looking at the stuff, though not as much as I should. I keep thinking I have plenty of time but man, it goes fast.

Running out of everything

I’m back for another round at the office in Erbil and have been welcomed with open arms, hugs and pleas of “never leave again!” The people here are so nice.

And the weather is much nicer than it was over Christmas. By that I mean warmer, I suppose. The mornings and evenings have been chilly but over the next couple of weeks they’ll warm up, I suppose. But it’s super wet and has been for awhile.

There was to be an outside meeting somewhere an hour or so road trip away the third day I was here. The sun had been out two days at that point and it started out gorgeous, and then all of a sudden these Noah-like floods came. They had to call off the meeting, and then a few hours later it was gorgeous again. And then, again, it was time for the ark.

It’s wetter than it’s been in years, and I didn’t bring a raincoat. I intended to, but I had to do some strategic packing this time around. Last time I was here, my bag was so crammed going back that I decided to upgrade to the big bag.

It’s not just a lot of root beer I need to unload. I’d sent all my dry food from Istanbul to Baghdad, and with our cafeteria offering all the already-cooked food I could possibly want, I haven’t used much of what I have. So I decided to pack up a bunch of it and bring to Erbil.

This meant taping up packages of lentils, pasta and rice, then gathering enough tea, Stevia, Crystal Light and hot chocolate for a month here. Also cooking oil (we’re OK with shipping liquids) and three soft drinks. I hit my weight limit or I would have brought more. I’m still seriously ahead of the game on the A&W. I brought two of those and a Dr Pepper. I can’t remember the last time I had a Dr Pepper.

It probably seems silly to have brought everything, but I hate wasting food and have no idea what I’ll do with what’s left after this tour. I was over the weight limit, though, and had to yank out a few things, like the raincoat.

Going back, who knows? There is a rumor there will be a carpet guy coming and I’m still working on the ACE Hardware mugs.

I should have room, though. On top of all the food, it seemed like every toiletry item I brought was going to run out, so I had to bring replacements. I thought about only taking the full ones but since I go home and basically turn right around and go on a three-week R&R, I figured I should just go ahead and unload.

So now I am settling in again. There’s an off-chance this might not be my last trip here, but I’m playing it like it is. Hoping the Kurdagonia T-shirts are available at some point, looking forward to seeing more carpets and there’s another textile vendor I want to check out if I can.

Not sure if I’ll have the opportunity to go off-campus, but I’m hopeful, not that I need anything. I have my staples and the veggie guy comes here, so there’s nothing I really need.

Now I’ve hit up the book and DVD library and am watching “Heartbreak Ridge,” an older Clint Eastwood one. I’ve got “Breaking Bad” in the queue again but might opt for something new.

I’ll have to check to see if the masseuse will be around this month, but if not, they have amazing massage chairs in the library room. Kind of hoping for a haircut before I head out on R&R.

Speaking of, I got the information on my Peace Corps reunion. We’re renting this place: https://www.vrbo.com/4754456ha. I might not leave.

Dog days in Baghdad

On Saturday, we had a K-9 appreciation day here on the compound. It was so much fun. They had about a dozen dogs out there and oh man, there were so many people who came just to play.

I went dog to dog and got to know all of them. Bud, one whom I’d met the week before, wasn’t there, but there was an aptly named Diva, as well as a Goldie. By the end, I knew all the dogs’ names, but not a one of the handlers’. Poor guys. They’re the invisible beings on the other ends of the leashes. Sometimes they produce treats that you can offer to their better halves, but in general, they are mounds of DNA who wear beige cargo pants with pockets than can hold a rubber ball on a rope. (We do have some dog handlers who are female, but none attended this event.)

Diva was a doll and knew it. My favorite was a humble (and chunky) black Lab named Panda. We’d also met before, and, even though she was on the clock, her DNA-on-the-other-end-of-the-leash let me play with her a bit then, so on Saturday, I was basically I was rolling on the ground with her. She loved it. She’s like 12 times the size of Batgirl, but it was the same theory: Rub my tummy. Scratch my ears. Rub my butt. Throw the ball. I’d toss the rubber-ball-on-a-rope in the air and most of the time she’d catch it, but sometimes she’d miss and ricochet off her nose, then bounce wildly on the pavement, causing her to jerk DNA-on-a-leash’s shoulder as she lunged for the wayward ball. But here DNA, and all the other DNAs, appreciated us. They’re with their pup partners 24/7, so they appreciated getting more people to work with them and wear them out a bit. I’m sure he was kidding, but DNA told me I was welcome to check her out over the weekend to give him a break.

He’d been on the other end of leashes for 16 years, and he rated Panda in his top 5. They can adopt the dogs after the dogs retire, which, for my department, is age 7. I asked DNA about his No. 1 dog and his voice trailed off as he said, “He saved my life.”

One of the DNAs was the first handler of his dog. It might have been Chanteuse. Anyway, he said the first handler is the one who has the first rights to adopt when it’s time to retire them. That seems fair. Another handler – John, who wasn’t on the end of a leash on Saturday, so I got his name – had told me previously that he hadn’t adopted any of his dogs, explaining that he was “attached, but not too attached” to them. By the tone in his voice, it seemed like he tried to keep a slight distance in case something happened to them. He said he’d lost dogs before. I can’t imagine how horrific that would be.

There’s a movie out called “Rex” about a Marine and her bomb dog partner. It’s based on a true story, but who knows what that means, you know? But both Rex and Rex’s DNA-on-a-leash got hit with a bomb, and both lived but sustained injuries and PTSD. The movie is about DNA trying to have Rex ruled adoptable so that she can keep him. That’s what John’s comment made me think about.

Back to Saturday and Panda: They did a demonstration and before it, her DNA-on-a-leach joked that he hoped she didn’t embarrass him. Well, they had 10 boxes set up, and the first DNA ran his dog down the line. When she got to about box No. 6, she stopped so short her hind legs popped up, and then she sat down at the box and refused to budge. She looked at DNA as if to say, “Hey, buddy, I win the game. Give me the treat!” And DNA produced a ball from his cargo pants, as the narrator explained that the dogs are rewarded with toys, not treats.

Goldie then ran the drill, to the same effect, although he’s a bit heavier (not Panda-like) and his hind legs stayed on the ground. Diva then sailed through, and even though DNA tried to coax her away from it, she just sat there like, “Hey, give me some love.” DNA produced the rubber ball and she jumped for joy – right into his arms.

Well, Panda just darted  (such that it was) and acted like a featherbrained ditz, only not so graceful. It wasn’t even obvious she was sniffing the boxes, she was just kind of lumbering excitedly along. She completely overran the guilty box and the audience gasped. She showed no reaction as she blew past it, then past the last four boxes. She then, still lumber-bouncing along, then circled back down the other side past four boxes, reaching No. 6 from the other direction. There, she was so frantic she pawed it, and then looked at DNA and said, OK, I’m done. TOY! Here we thought she’d lost the game, but she’d figured it out right off but made sure there was nothing else nefarious!

DNA-on-the-other-end-of-the-leash told me later that Panda was very methodical and thorough, and that’s why they’d made such good partners.

I miss dogs. We normally can’t play with any we see; they’re usually working, but sometimes I get lucky and get to scratch some ears or a tummy. The guy leading the demonstration said we have mostly Belgium malamutes, Labs and German shepherds, but in the past we’ve had some terriers and other smaller dogs. A Jack Russell probably, but not a Chihuahua. I just can’t imagine Batgirl or Rally earning their keep like that.