Gonna be a brief one tonight. It’s late here, and I haven’t spoken with Lorri yet today.

All day today, there has been a brown cloud of dust hanging over Al Asad. The wind has not been fierce enough to cause a massive sandstorm like the one I described a week ago, but it has been consistently 10-20 mph today, good enough to keep things swirling around the dustbowl ad infinitum. I have been inclined today to wonder aloud whether, eventually, all of the dust in Iraq will blow over into Syria (it always seems to blow westward). That would theoretically leave the air here nice and clean, keeping the grit from constantly accumulating on all of my smoother possessions. My medics inform me, however, that when the dust blows out of Al Asad, “they just make more.” When I asked him who “they” are, he just looked heavenward, which makes me think he may be a latent Mormon.

Because of the dust, there were few incoming planes, which meant no mail, no new shipments to the PX, etc. It also meant that practically no “minor” patients (i.e., back pain, bilateral left foot pain, etc) made the trip to our clinic today. When the dust is this bad, it hurts to open one’s eyes and even to breathe, and the visibility is terrible (though you can find other people by going in the direction of the coughing noises), so people pretty much stay indoors. No runners, no bikers. The very few patients I saw today were all pretty sick. These “brown-out” days tend to bring out the underlying (and the obvious) respiratory illnesses in people, and today was no exception.

After work, I got a ride home, leaving my bike at the clinic, and did some housework for awhile, caught up on some reading and writing, and then headed out to dinner with a group of medics. It amazes me how, whenever I get a chance to really talk with someone—anyone—theye always seem to have an interesting story to tell. I would like to relate each of my medic’s stories on this blog and I may just do that if I get their permission. Suffice it to say, that each of the humans with whom I am working is much more complex and interesting than their Army “Enlisted Record Brief” would have you believe.

At 7:30 PM, I went to the Al Asad branch Family Home Evening. The sister who sets this up every Friday is a SGT, and she does a great job. Somehow, she manages to bring popcorn, cookies (all baked goods are a rarity in this place, from bread on up), and even some of the flavors of Gatorade other than the three (red, green, purple) which are served in the DFAC. I have no idea how she gets these other, mystical, magical flavors (blue, orange, yellow), but I am grateful for them. I grabbed a blue one tonight, but I purposely didn’t drink it all. Instead, I saved some of it, so I can extend the pleasure of drinking something different over a couple of days. What a sad, sad life I lead.

FHE was populated by the aforementioned sister, Brother Diaz who is a Marine Master Gunnery SGT (that’s very high-ranking enlisted) who serves as a our group leader, Brother (CDR) Nance who is a chaplain and our stake representative, an Army SGT from Sacramento with a very east coast accent, a LCDR (same rank as me, but in the Navy), and a few civilians. Everyone is very humble and sweet here, and grateful to have each other’s company for a few moments. It’s nice to be in a room in Al Asad with a bunch of people talking for an hour, and never once hear the “Eddie Murphy word” (which during that same time span, my medics would likely have used as a noun, a verb, an adjective, and—of course—an interjection, usually followed by a glance in my direction and an apology). We watched the excellent “Let Not Your Hearts Be Troubled” DVD about LDS missionary service. If you haven’t seen that, try to find it, even if you are not a military member. It is very inspiring and gives some real insights into LDS military life.

Brother Hales, the civilian with the Orson Pratt beard, gave me a ride home through the brown haze afterward. He has been here a year, and is going home in June. He did not say it, but I could tell that June cannot come too soon for Brother Hales.

I know the feeling.