Yesterday was the day I felt the worst about of all the days I’d be missing while in Iraq:  The first day of school.  Mostly that it was Anja’s first day of kindergarten, an irreplaceable day that I think is one of the most monumentous milestones in my childrens’ lives.  The day they take that giant step - no longer at home all day, but now independent and on the direct path that will take them to adulthood.  The day you give them a hug and a kiss and cry because in no time, they’ll be so consumed with schoolwork, friends, and extracurriculur activities and no more kisses, Mom, I don’t want my friends to see!

As I may have mentioned before, there were two big “firsts” that I knew I would be missing out on: Anja’s first tooth being lost and her first day of school.  I was able to be there for both with Isak and I just feel so bad that I couldn’t be there for her.  I was very fortunate to be able to see her first tooth come out on the webcam (which, by the way, has not worked since then) but I knew there would be nothing to help me be there for the first day of school.

Fortunately, with the ever-wonderful B, I knew there would be pictures so at least I got something.  But they were so bittersweet - getting to see them so excited at the front door but not being able to be there to hold their hands on their way to school.  Getting to see them in their classrooms but not being able to see what they were doing.  I’m grateful for what I have but I spent a long time thinking about whether or not this was all worth it.

Fortunately or unfortunately, I was walked in on while having a particularly bad moment after getting off the phone with the kids (”Mamma, I miss you so much!”  “Mamma, why aren’t you coming home? Why can’t you just get on an airplane and come home?”) and got some good counseling.  It was just the right kind of counseling that wasn’t negating my feelings but also reminded me to think about why I chose to come here in the first place.  I do feel like I am doing something very worthwhile here; I just hope that someday my children understand that.

The other day we were sitting outside next to the lake, a group of about 4 of us.  I suddenly startled and said, “Oh my god!” which caused alarm in a couple of the others. They thought I had seen something happen in the distance and we just hadn’t heard it.  But no.  Nothing had happened.  The startling realization I had just had was that my skin was not feeling like it was blistering and sliding off my body.

Up in the sky, unbelievably, was a cloud.

I have not seen a cloud since I flew into Kuwait.  I even remember watching on the plane as the clouds went from a solid wall to nothing.  No clouds.  Not even a wisp of a cloud.  The sky is always so blindingly bright, no pretty deep blues but a harsh and glaring bright light blue.  But that day as I sat there, a cloud passed over the sun, providing glorious shade for the first time in nearly 2 months.

Since then, the clouds have come nearly every day.  One day it even looked like it was going to rain, but instead we were stuck with 115° and humidity so high you can hardly breathe and look like a wet dog after 2 seconds outside. 

This morning, though, the humidity is back down.  The clouds are around, and the temperature is about perfect.  Of course, it was only 8:00am, and almost certainly by 3:00pm it will be back up to 118°, but still, it seemed so lovely.  Relatively cool, calm, and generally just nice to be outside. When I came back to my office, I checked the temperature expecting it to be somewhere around 80-82° - the damn thing told me it was 95°! 

At least the clouds signal that hopefully summer is coming to a close; once the temperatures go down a bit more it might even be possible to start jogging again.  I haven’t really gotten to exercise since I’ve been here; I’m not a treadmill runner and I would have to be on crack to go outside during the day to run.  The mornings are nice but, well, too early, so I’m hoping the temps drop soon so I can go outside and be productive again soon. In the meantime, I’ll keep on complaining, because I do it so well.

There is really only one other person that I know of that could really understand this, and that is someone with whom I was stationed on the USS Lincoln.  He is also married to an Icelander, and we got to know each other a bit on the ship and then we got together after the ship and his wife and my family all had dinner together - a traditional Icelandic dinner, of course.

I fell in love with Iceland.  I can’t explain why very well, and I’m not completely sure why it has had such an effect on me, but it’s something that I’ve been thinking about a lot over the last few months.  When we left Iceland at the end of 2002, we had planned on coming back if we got stationed in Europe.  We had gotten orders to Iceland before getting them taken away due to the base closing.  Our runner-up choice was Spain, and the first thing we started planning was going back to Iceland at our first opportunity.  That first opportunity was this summer.  I was so excited to be going back.  And then Iraq popped into the picture. 

And now my family is back in Iceland, without me.  I am SO HAPPY for them, but at the same time, so unhappy that I couldn’t go along.  I’m missing all these memories.  I’m missing going to summer houses, taking the kids berry picking and to pet the horses, wandering through fields, playing games, eating real Icelandic food, going to the lakes, walking along the beaches picking sea glass…I’m missing this:

iceland tour confirmed

12 July 2006

we are pleased to announce that in addition to the free outdoor reykjavík concert on july 30th, the band will go on a long-awaited iceland tour, beginning in a couple of weeks. they will be playing eight small dates across the icelandic countryside at the end of july and beginning of august, all of which will be free of admission. these are very low key dates and we will not be listing them on the site, although those attending the reykjavík show may find a few clues as to their whereabouts. all the iceland dates will be being recorded and filmed for a future dvd release.

I’m missing getting to see B’s nieces again, and his brothers and sister and mom and dad and grandma.  I don’t get to go to the Westmann Islands and throw puffins into the ocean, or go to the touristy stuff and bring back memories.  I can’t take the photos I’ve dreamed of taking of the surreal, mottled landscapes and unimaginable skies.  I even miss the crappy weather; I miss dressing warm and complaining about how cold and rainy it is because then you get to come in and have coffee and talk and warm up in such a nice way. 

And of course, the family.  I miss them so much.  I got to talk to them last night for just a couple of seconds each before B’s phone card ran out of money.  It had been a while since I talked to the kids last and it was really hard to hear them and not be able to see them, or to touch them or hold them or any of it.  It’s a little bit easier with B because we email every day and can communicate well in writing, but with the kids I don’t have that.  I just want to go home.  Wherever home is now.

These last couple of weeks have been insane.  I’ve not had too much time to post; when I finally do get home, the internet doesn’t work in my mansion.

So as a bit of a catch up…with a few pictures thrown in.  I had my first convoy about 2 weeks ago. We had some convoy training in Fort Jackson and then again in Kuwait but I don’t think anything can really prepare you for a real convoy, at least not for the first time.  I started getting really anxious when it was time to leave, and when we got to the entry control point and had to lock and load, my already brittle exterior started cracking hopelessly.  Fortunately, I was with some really great people who still remembered their first convoy and assured me that things were going to be fine, and off we went. 

The scariest part of it was constant: garbage and other vehicles.  IEDs (Improvised explosive devices), VBIEDs, or Vehicle Borne IEDs (in dead/abanoned cars on the side of the road) and SVBIEDs (Suicide VBIEDs where someone is actually driving the car).  There is litter everywhere along the road and everything can be or can be concealing an IED.  Every bag of trash, every pile of litter, every cardboard box, you wonder if something is in it.  Every car without a driver, ever car with a driver, you wonder.  Every overpass could be concealing a sniper, as could the buildings along the road. 

Fortunately, the convoy only lasted 13 minutes and 32 seconds from the time we left one control point until we arrived on the other side.  But that was a very, very long 13 minutes and 32 seconds.

Once we got to the IZ - the international zone, which is also known as the green zone - we had some time to unwind before starting back again.  We went right around the time there had been numerous rocket and mortar attacks, but fortunately it was all quiet when we were there.  We get hit by mortars here all the time - three just today, in fact - but our base is about the size of Rhode Island versus the IZ which is about the size of a Six Flags park, just with mortars instead of rollercoasters, and duck and cover bunkers instead of park benches.

We have a massive file inventory twice a month.  It is verrrry redundant and boring, but one of those things that has to be done.  At the tail end of our last inventory, on my second to last drawer, one of the file managers thought it would be a really smart idea to wrap a piece of duct tape to my head.

The aftermath was not pretty.  It was funny, but not pretty.  Notice the look of pain (and I’m sensing maybe understanding?) on the woman who was taking the tape off my hair, as well as the rotation of people coming to gawk in horror.

I came into work yesterday and my chair had a big duct taped “X” on the back of it, as did the backs of 2 other people in my office.  I was told that it was done by my friend Ronnie, and that he didn’t want to be friends with us anymore.

We didn’t like that very much.  To show him how much we didn’t like that, we duct taped everything down to his desk - phone, mouse, keyboard, stapler, mints. 

Coincidentally, around this same time, the cute little Starbucks bear that was on his desk vanished.  Vanished!  Of course none of us had anything to do with it, but really, what timing!  These were the pictures posted at various locations throughout the building.

The first menacing note:

It then took a poetic, somewhat angry turn:

After that came the threat of death by drowning:

Oh, that poor little bear.

Sadly, Ronnie still isn’t our friend.  Poor bear.

After the first incident with the iron a few weeks ago, I put it away so I could have some time for the raw, emotional wounds to heal. Since I had the room to myself since I’ve been here, I put it on top of the spare locker in time out and let it think about what it had done to me.

A week or so ago, we got a new group of people in (finally, I am no longer the FNG!).  One of the new people is now my roommate.  On her first morning here, she was going to skip breakfast and meet us at the bus stop.  I went to breakfast with a coworker and some more of the new people and we all walked over to the bus stop together, but my roommate still wasn’t there.  I was a little nervous that maybe she got lost on her way and was being hit on by an Iraqi general.  Just as I was considering getting out to go look for her, I saw her on the other end of the parking lot.  She walked up to a window of the bus and told us she needed to get to medical NOW for a head injury.  My iron had tried to take its own life and ended up breaking its fall on the back of her head as she kneeled down to tie her shoes. 

The latest iron incident was yesterday when I was adjusting my ironing board and the iron fell off, sticking to my arm.  Fortunately it was probably not yet silicone-melting hot, but it was hot enough to leave two long burns on my forearm. 

We worry when we sleep, because really, we’ve lost all trust in the iron.  Next thing you know you’re going to wake up with the iron hovering over you with its cord wrapped around your neck.