Lazy Day, Lazy Writer

I went to bed early last night, and didn’t post anything for you to read, so right now, I am going to catch you up on some of the things that have been going on that I haven’t yet written about.

First, the spandex soldiers and their command threw a pizza party last Thursday. We actually have an outdoor oven and wood to burn in it, so they burned wood for about an hour and a half before they even made the first pizza. And then they didn’t make pizza. They made flatbread, and we had salami, spicy pepperoni, and sweet, thin-sliced ham to eat with it, along with a couple of kinds of cheeses – Pecorino Romano, and ricotta salata. I had never heard of ricotta salata until last year, when Giada DeLaurentiis talked about it on one of her shows. I tried after that to find it, but could not, even in Kansas City at the Italian Market in the City Market area. Who knew I would have to come to Afghanistan to try out a different Italian cheese? Our camp is close to the Italian base, and so these kinds of foodstuffs can be found there – if one looks hard enough. With the Romano, we had fig jam that had been made by the commander’s mother.

Then they started the pizzas. They first made a Margherita pizza – or what they called Margherita. In America, when I think I am getting a Margherita pizza, I am ready to taste olive oil, thin-sliced Roma tomatoes, and homemade mozzarella with torn basil leaves on some flatbread. They served a cheese pizza – tomato sauce, arguably much better than Pizza Hut’s, with little dabs of mozzarella sprinkled all over. It was yummy. After that came the loaded pizzas with mushrooms and sausage and the remaining pepperoni, and some other kinds of pizzas that I didn’t stay around to try. By that time, I was stuffed. It was a very nice evening; the wind, which had been blustery all day, had calmed down, and the air was warm, and it felt just like a Friday night at home in mid-September, the kind of night where a long-sleeved t-shirt is just right – except that I wasn’t at home, and it was Thursday night.

The next pleasant incident occurred a couple of days ago, when a young man stopped me to ask who I am. I told him, and it turns out that he is from Sedalia. Missouri. He had been with the Sheriff’s department and came here a few years ago. Kevin also told me that another Sedalian, another former deputy, is also here in Afghanistan, although right now, I can’t remember in which province. Kevin is on guard duty. I saw him again at dinner, and he was sitting next to a man from Jefferson City, and another from Festus. It felt good to see a home-town boy and more Missouians!

The wind here has been overwhelming at times. I wonder why I bother to style my hair, or use hairspray. The wind takes over as a brush every time I walk outside my door. Last evening, when I walked to the gym, I felt as if my hair was standing on end, and the reason was – it was standing on end, thanks to sustained gusts of wind. I hear, though, that the wind is better than the winter. I am not looking forward to finding out which is better – or worse.

As far as I can tell, the morale of our local national employees has not been affected by the violence that has taken place across the Middle East. Fortunately, nothing untoward has happened in this area, for which I am grateful, but I heard today that a demonstration was expected in Kabul. And my class wanted to know whether insulting a group is a crime in the United States. But more about that later.

For now, things are hunky-dory in Afghanistan, and I hope that tensions ease quickly.