[opens brain and drops contents out onto a piece of paper]

Jelly Bellies

Way back in March, anonymous good guy “A.G. Family” sent me (among many other things) a big 4-lb bag of Jelly Bellies. This kept me and the various other occupants of my office (a nurse practitioner, a physician’s assistant, and every medic in my clinic) happily sweetened throughout the afternoons. (Okay, occasionally the mornings too.) At four CPB (Calories Per Belly), they are an affordable luxury, even for the weight-obsessed people who make up the U.S. Army (remember: soldiers’ next promotion often depends upon what that scale reads). I recently finished off that bag. Actually, that’s not quite true: there are about one-hundred “tiramisu” JBs left. If you want them, send me your address, as there are no takers in the clinic at this point.

So with bag #1 running out, Mom Rupard came through and sent me a massive Cylinder O’ Beans, which is gracing the little dresser next to my bed as I wite this. I cannot begin to express the inordinate amount of pleasure that popping int my mouth a couple of buttered popcorn, caramel apple, Dr Pepper, or most of the other 47 flavors of Jelly Bellies. Mmmm, high fructose corn syrup…

Running

I am beginning to (dare I say it?) enjoy running once again, for the first time since a relatively brief renaissance when I first joined the Army. I did six miles on Saturday, three on Monday, and 5.5 today. Still riding the bike, too. I’m gonna have to do a better job of hydrating myself, though, as I woke up this morning and didn’t even have to pee. Not a good sign. I think that we may need another “National Kidney Stone Awareness Month.”

Speaking Of Hydration

I was fortunate enough last night to be in/around the vicinity when the water people dropped off our latest pallet. I immediately dug way in, and grabbed a couple of 12-packs from the middle of the pallet (theoretically protected a bit more from the sun than the outside bottles), and did a little taste test. It tasted sweet and clean, with virtually none of that “aromatic polycarbon” aftertaste of which I am not a big fan. I can feel the mutated white blood cells in my marrow as they slowly normalize their tied-in-knots DNA strands.

Tennis

I have ended up reviving my love of tennis after watching it a bit here in Iraq. For reasons unknown to me, tennis is always ALWAYS on the Armed Forces Network. I have not met any enlisted person who has any interest in the sport (playing or watching) and very few officers. Army sports include, and are limited to, the following: weightlifting, football, weightlifting, basketball, running, and lifting weights. Not necessarily in that order.

With no racquet, no tennis balls, and no tennis courts in Iraq, I have resigned myself to the notion that I will not be playing any tennis until I get back to the states. When I watch on TV, I have noticed that I have an unconscious pattern which determines for whom I am rooting. It goes like this: whomever grunts the LEAST gets my vote. I’m thinking of applying this criteria to my presidential choice as well.