Welcome to Balad

The results of care package requests.

One of the ways those on the home front stay connected with us out here is sending us care packages. Everybody, for some reason, wants to send homemade cookies. I'm not sure why. I guess it's romantic, in a way. However, homemade cookies don't travel well in hot countries where the mail can often take three weeks from point of origin to destination. Anyway, we are given more sweet junk than we can eat...or that we should eat. Plus, I just don't have much of a sweet tooth to begin with, except for a couple of items, noted below.

Before I left, the wonderful folks in my office at Gunter told me I'd better tell them what I wanted, because they were going to send me a care package, anyway. Others have offered to send me anything I want, and many have asked me to tell them something I might need that they can send.

I'm not alone, either. I'm proud to say all the people I talk with about the problem of care packages are facing the same staggering outpouring of material support.

I decided early to ask for things I am not supplied and cannot simply buy for myself here. To get the order for a care package from my office, I walked around the squadron and asked everyone what they would like in a care package from the States. By the time I asked the third person, I'd refined my question to, "What would you like in a care package that you can't get here and isn't illegal or forbidden under General Order #1A?" because every person I asked replied instantly, "Gimme a bottle of [insert name of favorite alcoholic beverage here]." Oh yeah funny. And original.

Oddly enough, most people didn't have a legitimate answer. I guess most of them were care-packaged out. The folks in my office were polishing off the dregs of a Creme Saver package, and I'd seen empty bags lying around in other offices.

Also, I quickly determined that I needed coffee--but not just any coffee. I am selective. For me, coffee is a means to two ends: it provides caffeine and gives me my French Vanilla fix. There was plenty of coffee here, but there was no place to procure the creamer of my choice.

I made the mistake of writing something like this to the office: "You can't send too much flavored coffee creamer or Creme Savers." This is what happened:

And that picture was taken after I went through the squadron spreading Creme Saver and coffee creamer joy. That isn't even the entire haul. Some kind soul tossed in a huge box of Baby Wipes, which are absolutely a staple over here. (Since I didn't specifically request it, I'm guessing that came from Capt Cadiz, who recently got back from Qatar. Good thinking, Captain.)

There was also an inspirational booklet from Lt Col McGinnis that I will pass along to the troops, as well as a bottle of barbeque sauce from Bobby that I'm told by a reliable source simply makes a Spam sandwich.

There was also this book:

It's full of inspirational stories. We've read two so far: one about a man who beat his trees with a rolled-up newspaper and another about a cat with no hair who couldn't meow.

Oh. Perhaps I should explain the "we read" part. See, we often have Alarm Reds (I believe I've mentioned), during which we are required to slip quickly into our flak vests and kevlar helmets and get down. We lie on the floor, usually. A couple of weeks ago, when we were moving to a new office, we found this book:

Out of sheer boredom one day, Jeff picked it up and read the opening blurb you get with books like this. It's on the first page, usually--just a taste of the passion you're likely to find in the novel's pages. If you've never heard a book like this read aloud with the melodramatic intensity it deserves, you're letting the best in life just pass you by.

Here's a taste from that first page, in case you just fell off the turnip truck:

Elliot reached out and swept a tress of hair from her brow. His finger stayed, lingered, following the shallow indent at her temple, the outer curve of her cheek, the line of her jaw. Desire began to spill liquid heat through her. She forgot her fear. She inclined her head, leaning into his caress.

"I fear I am doomed to spend most of my time with you apologizing," he said. But he didn't look in the least remorseful.

"Why is that?"

"Because I can't seem to keep my hands off you."

Her heart thudded in her chest. "Oh."

His hand circled to the back of her neck. She closed her eyes....

And you get the picture. We enjoyed this crumb of broiling literary passion so much that we decided to read this book to one another during Alarm Reds.

We were delighted to find, upon completion of the first chapter, that the "tease" was nothing compared to the melodramatic potential of the plot. This is possibly the most sappy, melodramatic waste of paper I've ever read. I can't believe people spend money and time reading such drivel and I can't wait for the next installment.

A few days ago, he read a chapter, then laid the book down, cut off the light and we both dozed off (you get sleep anywhere and anytime you can here). We woke when All Clear sounded, but were so comfortable and groggy that we just laid there, discussing the merits of getting up. One of our troops opened the door to find us there, still in our gear, on our backs with that book lying between us. It must have been quite a sight. I wish I had a picture.

Anyhow...we now alternate Chicken Soup readings with The Bridal Season. We'll read some Soup and switch when we've had all the inspiration we can stand.

While I was awaiting the arrival of the Creme Savers and creamer stash, my father asked if there was anything I needed. Coincidentally, that was the very day I'd discovered the unparalleled joy of Gold Bond Foot Powder, another item I could not purchase here. I requested it specifically (no cheap imitation will do), and within the week, I had two 10 oz. bottles of the stuff, one for my tent and one for the office.

It's funny what items become valuable in such an environment as this. The things you really treasure are those things that increase your comfort level, or at least decrease your discomfort level. Hot, sweaty feet become a fact of life. Then, if you're lucky, you discover Gold Bond. It not only dries your feet like regular foot powder, but it cools your feet. If you can imagine how your feet would feel if they could chew wintergreen gum, you know how Gold Bond feels.

Thank you muchly, Daddy.

I also had my roomie send me a mattress pad (a luxury here) and actual linen sheets. She's also sent my Black Adder DVD set. We'll actually be arranging viewings when we begin playing them.

We're trying to work out how to score a few seasons of The Simpsons on DVD now but can't bring ourselves to ask someone to buy them for us. Of course, ordering them ourselves from Amazon or something would just take all the fun out of the acquisition process.

Not only do care packages give the folks back home a way to show they care and are thinking about us, but our ongoing need to find items to request gives us something to think about, and knowing a requested item is on the way gives us something to look forward to in the short term.

Letters are also good. But for all of you who sent something to me or other loved ones or even strangers here or are doing it now, we thank you.

d