There's only six Taco Tuesdays for the PB&J (photographer, broadcaster & journalist) team left here. To do Taco Tuesday right you really have to eat at the main dining facility ((ahem, you're welcome, April) or the DFAC) here known as Ala' Too. Yeah, you can get a touch of Mexican with some enchiladas or a burrito at the two smaller DFACs, but you miss out on heaping piles of shells or tortillas, ground meat or shredded chicken filling and the fixins bar of grated cheese, shredded lettuce, salsa, sometimes guacamole, and fresh whole chopped tomatoes.
On Taco Tuesdays I eat taco salad which means my plate is at least half tomatoes. Today, no chopped tomatoes, but no worries - I'll grab some tomato slices from the sandwich bar. No such luck. I love black olives almost as much as tomatoes so I'll over-compensate on those. No such luck. Just before I was about ready to give up on enjoying lunch, my eyes became glued to snow-white heaven. ***Sour cream.****
Sour cream for me is the equivalent of what BBQ sauce is to JG. It's the foundation of some of the tastiest dips, the key ingredient for a rich Stroganoff, an essential component to most cheesecakes and probably the only condiment I could literally eat by the spoonful. (No, peanut butter is not a condiment, it's a category all its own.)
I enjoyed a 'little' dab on my salad. I was then pleasantly surprised to see it at the Colonel Mac's DFAC to accompany my enchiladas at dinner complete with sliced (then Jenny-Chopped) tomatoes and black olives. Best Taco Tuesday EVER!
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Friday, November 5, 2010
Zapped
You'd think that growing up on a small family farm with an electric fence I'd have been more prepared for the jolt I got late Monday night. I was determined to change my sheets and make my bed with the laptop on the bed, just moving it to the opposite corner I was working on. When I got settled in my new favorite flannel sheets (thank you, Martha) I noticed the battery wasn't full on my laptop.
The power source was secure in the computer - so I knew that the plug (connected to a 220 adaptor piece) had to be pushed more securely into the wall. Standing in my right foot to do this I heard a loud pop, saw a big white spark and instantly felt pain in my right hand and foot.
I'm still feeling bouts of tingles and random sharp pains, tho not nearly as bad as earlier in the week. I've had two EKGs and somehow I got dehydrated enough to suffer a bladder infection. I slept for nearly three solid days. Electric shock isn't widely written about unless addressing symptoms and care for instances severe enough to cause entry and exit wounds. If you google it, you get mostly electric shock 'therapy' (insert extreme sarcasm based on this experience) and - on the accidental extreme - how victims are at risk for cardiac arrest, muscle deterioration and burns.
So, our team has about five weeks left before our office starts rotating the staff. Two of the public affairs folks coming in have each had a prior deployment here both within the last three years. For another it will be her first deployment. The other gentleman is no stranger to working in a host nation environment serving in Air Force News detachments.
There's more that I want to accomplish here than I have time for. Our event calendar is hectic between now and when the new superintendent arrives at the beginning of December. I hope the next few weeks go by fast.
The power source was secure in the computer - so I knew that the plug (connected to a 220 adaptor piece) had to be pushed more securely into the wall. Standing in my right foot to do this I heard a loud pop, saw a big white spark and instantly felt pain in my right hand and foot.
I'm still feeling bouts of tingles and random sharp pains, tho not nearly as bad as earlier in the week. I've had two EKGs and somehow I got dehydrated enough to suffer a bladder infection. I slept for nearly three solid days. Electric shock isn't widely written about unless addressing symptoms and care for instances severe enough to cause entry and exit wounds. If you google it, you get mostly electric shock 'therapy' (insert extreme sarcasm based on this experience) and - on the accidental extreme - how victims are at risk for cardiac arrest, muscle deterioration and burns.
So, our team has about five weeks left before our office starts rotating the staff. Two of the public affairs folks coming in have each had a prior deployment here both within the last three years. For another it will be her first deployment. The other gentleman is no stranger to working in a host nation environment serving in Air Force News detachments.
There's more that I want to accomplish here than I have time for. Our event calendar is hectic between now and when the new superintendent arrives at the beginning of December. I hope the next few weeks go by fast.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Halloween Three (Not the Movie)
It's been about two months since I've blogged - spookey, huh?
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Halloween is my least favorite holiday. As kids my sister and I would have to be driven the mile or so between houses to trick-or-treat. Rural trick or treating is probably one of the best kept secrets of the country. Most folks in the town of Abbot, Maine, were lucky to get three or four trick or treaters total so homeowners would make elaborate Halloween goodie bags - none of the city "take one piece" nonsense at the hoards of ghosts, princesses and movie of the year characters with the occassional ATV-sized cadillac stroller mixed in. Anyway, most years we were too poor to get proper costumes so we'd decorate paper bags and cut out two eye holes. Well, that childhood memory didn't really bother me too badly until as a teenager I heard crude boys make comments about how some girls would have smoking hot bodies but an ugly face - and you know the saying "put a paper bag over her head." My dreaded nickname in school was also Ogre (thanks to a 'tool' of a maiden name) so that didn't help matters any.
Flash forward a few decades and this year Edward was Darth Vader and Zachary was Darth Maul. JG was Indiana Jones (insert word "sexy") he was equipped with a bull whip we bought during our road trip adventure in April when we stopped in Mark Twain's home town of Hannnibal, Missouri earlier this year.
JG is much better at Halloween than I am. Last year I was Marge Simpson. (Oddly enough it was timed the same week as her debut on an adult magazine cover.) Green dress, pearls and blue-colored hairspray and so much cement-like gel and only one person looked at me. Edward was a samauri and Zachary was a .... drawing a blank .... Scream? Something cloaky with a mask, I know that for sure.
Three Halloweens ago was the only 31st of October the four of us have spent together - it was also a month before JG and I were engaged. The kids were being such 'demons' we outright cancelled trick-or-treating. This was the night that the main water pressure valve in the house burst causing water damage to both bathrooms and the boys' bedroom. I couldn't even imagine what the damage would have been if we had been out trick-or-treating that night.
Yesterday when JG and I were skyping, he made the comment that Halloween was his favorite holiday but he didn't care much to celebrate. This deployment has been by far much more difficult for the both of this compared to his deployment last year. The only thing I've been good at is taking out my frustration, disappointment and anger out on him - something I'm not proud of.
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Halloween is my least favorite holiday. As kids my sister and I would have to be driven the mile or so between houses to trick-or-treat. Rural trick or treating is probably one of the best kept secrets of the country. Most folks in the town of Abbot, Maine, were lucky to get three or four trick or treaters total so homeowners would make elaborate Halloween goodie bags - none of the city "take one piece" nonsense at the hoards of ghosts, princesses and movie of the year characters with the occassional ATV-sized cadillac stroller mixed in. Anyway, most years we were too poor to get proper costumes so we'd decorate paper bags and cut out two eye holes. Well, that childhood memory didn't really bother me too badly until as a teenager I heard crude boys make comments about how some girls would have smoking hot bodies but an ugly face - and you know the saying "put a paper bag over her head." My dreaded nickname in school was also Ogre (thanks to a 'tool' of a maiden name) so that didn't help matters any.
Flash forward a few decades and this year Edward was Darth Vader and Zachary was Darth Maul. JG was Indiana Jones (insert word "sexy") he was equipped with a bull whip we bought during our road trip adventure in April when we stopped in Mark Twain's home town of Hannnibal, Missouri earlier this year.
JG is much better at Halloween than I am. Last year I was Marge Simpson. (Oddly enough it was timed the same week as her debut on an adult magazine cover.) Green dress, pearls and blue-colored hairspray and so much cement-like gel and only one person looked at me. Edward was a samauri and Zachary was a .... drawing a blank .... Scream? Something cloaky with a mask, I know that for sure.
Three Halloweens ago was the only 31st of October the four of us have spent together - it was also a month before JG and I were engaged. The kids were being such 'demons' we outright cancelled trick-or-treating. This was the night that the main water pressure valve in the house burst causing water damage to both bathrooms and the boys' bedroom. I couldn't even imagine what the damage would have been if we had been out trick-or-treating that night.
Yesterday when JG and I were skyping, he made the comment that Halloween was his favorite holiday but he didn't care much to celebrate. This deployment has been by far much more difficult for the both of this compared to his deployment last year. The only thing I've been good at is taking out my frustration, disappointment and anger out on him - something I'm not proud of.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Black Thumb
So, the strawberry plants I've been writing about have died. No one watered them the week of the airshow.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Pete's Place
***** It's Tuesday. Nine days after I wrote the bit below. I will be working on my follow through. *****
I'm sitting on the boardwalk at Pete's Place. This is the social hub of the Transit Center at Manas - for both service members stationed here and those traveling into or coming home from Afghanistan. It's a mellow night being a Sunday, and I'm doing the thing I detest the most: taking up an entire table to use my laptop while being anti-social. Supposedly Nate and Mike will be swinging by so we can have our beer. We're allowed two daily here - one of the deployment perks here in Kyrgyzstan.
It's named Pete's place in honor of Peter J. Ganci, Jr., a firefighter who died in the WTC attacks of Sept. 11, 2001. Three months later the Transit Center opened to support Coalition Forces and Americans on their way to Afghanistan - then it was named Ganci Air Base and shortly after that it was named Manas Air Base and now we're the Transit Center at Manas.
I'm looking at the outside mural of Peter Ganci with the WTC towers engulfed in flames and smoke. I've seen this same image on posters in many work centers here with the words "That's Why." I want one.
I'm sitting on the boardwalk at Pete's Place. This is the social hub of the Transit Center at Manas - for both service members stationed here and those traveling into or coming home from Afghanistan. It's a mellow night being a Sunday, and I'm doing the thing I detest the most: taking up an entire table to use my laptop while being anti-social. Supposedly Nate and Mike will be swinging by so we can have our beer. We're allowed two daily here - one of the deployment perks here in Kyrgyzstan.
It's named Pete's place in honor of Peter J. Ganci, Jr., a firefighter who died in the WTC attacks of Sept. 11, 2001. Three months later the Transit Center opened to support Coalition Forces and Americans on their way to Afghanistan - then it was named Ganci Air Base and shortly after that it was named Manas Air Base and now we're the Transit Center at Manas.
I'm looking at the outside mural of Peter Ganci with the WTC towers engulfed in flames and smoke. I've seen this same image on posters in many work centers here with the words "That's Why." I want one.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Jam
Just about every time I write or talk to the boys I ask about the strawberry plants - I was so thrilled to see JG posted a picture. The day I planted the 15 plants (yes, it really holds 15) the boys and JG were having a nerf gun war in the back yard.
Since I've been here, strawberry jam has become my comfort food. Partly because in the two weeks I was at Fort Dix I only got strawberry jam on three occassions. Partly because it's my favorite. And, partly because I have fond memories of going strawberry picking with my family as a kid, then watching my parents make homemade strawberry jam. Here, the only other jelly they have is grape. I know I've elevated the status of jam to "food" but trust me when I say sometime the only thing that looks good to eat is a make-it-yourself PB&J.
Tonight I had barbeque chicken. It was pretty good. Almost ready to declare bbq sauce a food too.
So I've been sending cards home to JG and the boys. They have yet to actually receive one from me here in Kyrgystan. We were told mail takes an average of 2-4 weeks to travel back and forth to the states. I'm just trying to picture being home for a month and still receiving mail from here. I'm running really low on stationary. I actually used my last two cards for the boys then dove into a stack of blank cards with limes on the front. The only sets the base exchange here sells are U.S. Air Force stationary. No thank you. I prefer pink and sparkles and flowers and cute swirls.
In my last post I said that JG would be flying in a KC-135 above Spokane taking photos of the 4th of July fireworks. Nope. The first aircraft broke. The second aircraft broke too. Can you imagine this happening when it really counts? Some of the tankers here at Transit Center at Manas are actually from Fairchild AFB. Day in and day out those work horses of the 1950s are refueling everything that flies above Afghanistan. The Air Force has some amazing maintainers. I'd put any one of them up against a mechanic making a fleet of cars last for 50 years, being driven as hard and as often our our tankers fly.
Since I've been here, strawberry jam has become my comfort food. Partly because in the two weeks I was at Fort Dix I only got strawberry jam on three occassions. Partly because it's my favorite. And, partly because I have fond memories of going strawberry picking with my family as a kid, then watching my parents make homemade strawberry jam. Here, the only other jelly they have is grape. I know I've elevated the status of jam to "food" but trust me when I say sometime the only thing that looks good to eat is a make-it-yourself PB&J.
Tonight I had barbeque chicken. It was pretty good. Almost ready to declare bbq sauce a food too.
So I've been sending cards home to JG and the boys. They have yet to actually receive one from me here in Kyrgystan. We were told mail takes an average of 2-4 weeks to travel back and forth to the states. I'm just trying to picture being home for a month and still receiving mail from here. I'm running really low on stationary. I actually used my last two cards for the boys then dove into a stack of blank cards with limes on the front. The only sets the base exchange here sells are U.S. Air Force stationary. No thank you. I prefer pink and sparkles and flowers and cute swirls.
In my last post I said that JG would be flying in a KC-135 above Spokane taking photos of the 4th of July fireworks. Nope. The first aircraft broke. The second aircraft broke too. Can you imagine this happening when it really counts? Some of the tankers here at Transit Center at Manas are actually from Fairchild AFB. Day in and day out those work horses of the 1950s are refueling everything that flies above Afghanistan. The Air Force has some amazing maintainers. I'd put any one of them up against a mechanic making a fleet of cars last for 50 years, being driven as hard and as often our our tankers fly.
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