Ode to my foot

Not much going on today compared to Jingle Truck Sunday.  While it was beautiful outside, one didn't dare open one's mouth to comment on the weather unless swallowing a grit sandwich is "one's" idea of fun.  The winds are starting to pick up around here - just in time for me to fly off to my Polish run mountain retreat FOB in a few days for the next couple of weeks.  I am imagining it's akin to the setting from The Sound of Music ... only with more guns and less nuns, but still the feeling of a terrible enemy afoot.  I am excited to check out the experimental farm there too - and any blonde, singing children that might be hanging around - singing.  I hear the Poles can be r-u-d-e too, so I can't wait for that - those eastern european countries just need to lighten the hell up - am I right?  Maybe my Quazimoto-ish limp will go away while I'm there too - I need a chance for my boots to break in and blisters to heal - a chance that doesn't include 3 to 4 mile walks every day - I need "Ssthanctuwary"(I hope you all saw the movie.)

Lets discuss the decor around her for a moment.  The color motif here is largely beige with a complimentary stone or sand-hued accessory to accent the beige.  Any color you do wear ends up being beige because of all the dust and sand. It's unfortunate because beige really bores me - both wearing it and seeing it - it's as exciting as pocket lint (which is beige). There's really nothing here to keep the sand and dust in place - even though it will get to the low 100s in a few weeks, this really isn't desert like Kandahar - it's just been ruined.  They are in dire need of some landscaping but I hear the Soviets literally salted the earth when they left so nothing grows here now - those nasty Ruskies!  If I can get some seeds I am so growing something here.  Thankfully there are mountains all around - they keep you looking up and not focused on how draconian the setting is here.  I mean, we are living in plywood huts and metal containers - they don't have to be that ugly - I'm gonna be gettin' on that issue like a duck on a Junebug .... as God is my Waitress...

I also wonder what kind of hazardous dump I am living in - it was/is all mined, salted, dumped on and I'm sure there are some unseemly surprises buried all around here.  You get the distinct feeling - especially by the burn pits - that none of this would cut the mustard in the US.  And I quit smoking before coming here - I have a feeling that was a dubious exercise in health consciousness but I'm so glad not to be smoking here - one more lung irritant would not be good.  I am destined to return sounding like Carol Channing after inhaling all of this dirt.  And can constantly having to smell "poo" hurt you?  I am just revolted by most of these latrines and feel they are damaging me emotionally - I may never be able to go camping again after this.

I'm rambling, but before I close - no Oscar for Meryl??  She was Julia Child ... not that ol' Sandy Bullock didn't do an OK job, but it was no Oscar performance.  Did I tell you all how much Mike A. loves Sandra Bullock?  - he loves her - a lot.  Oddly, the part I usually sleep through in the states (the best part), I watched during breakfast here this morning.  Strange.  Eggs and the Oscars.

Drink of the night:   Hot Chai tea that I brought from home -