Blueberry Picking

We wanted to make sure we picked some blueberries before the season was over so here we are with our buckets. The blueberries were very yummy and very cheap. The only problem was that the Berry family didn't get enough blueberries because we kept eating them and spilling them. But, hey, it was fun nonetheless.


















To my surprise the kids did a great job at picking blueberries (besides eating and spilling them). They were very good workers and also seemed to enjoy themselves.

















Roman wasn't so good at picking blueberries. He crawled and drifted alot. A couple of times I couldn't find him because he could get through the rows so easily I'd lose sight of him quickly. But we found him having fun on his own.


















Sami was her usual quiet self. She stayed to herself and kept picking. She actually picked alot, but we just didn't take home much. She did wonderful - until she had to go potty. I don't know if you know this, but there are no potties in blueberry fields.



















She was quite pleased with her work.


Once I fed Roman a blueberry he figured out that he wanted more. Unfortunately he didn't figure out picking them off the trees (or bushes?) he kept picking them up off the ground, with a handful of dirt. So, unfortunately, the mess you see is mostly dirt from tasting blueberries off the ground.

Lost But Not Forgotten

From Michael:
July 20, 2008

I had the opportunity to venture outside the wire yet again. I left on a Monday morning, with the understanding that I had a multi-purpose trip. I wasn’t sure how long I would be out, so I packed my large pack, which carries enough to allow me to stay out for several weeks. I suppose one of the benefits of hot weather is that you don’t have to pack as much, because you need very little in the way of clothing. In fact, all I need at night is my sleeping mat and a pillow, which is basically my folded-up towel.

As the Marines who made up our larger-than-usual convoy gathered around to go over the mission plan, discuss contingency plans (What happens if we lose a vehicle? What happens if someone shoots at us? etc) and conduct a final roll-call. These are all requirements for every convoy, so it can get a bit monotonous. I was standing next to one of my fellow officers, and a fellow passenger on the convoy, Jason. We exchanged “what’s up’s” and “pounded knuckles”, which is the younger generation’s version of the high-five. I have known Jason since I arrived in Afghanistan , and have gotten to know him pretty well over the months. He has an easy-going nature and is easy to get along with. On the previous night, he had been poking fun at me for being such an exercise addict. He said that in Iraq last year, he was the same way, and had been in the best shape of his life, but just didn’t have the motivation or energy during this deployment.

As we got into our assigned vehicles, the convoy paused before departing the safe confines of our camp, and the vehicle commander in the lead vehicle offered up a prayer for safe travel. This was a new twist on things, but certainly not one that I disapproved of. It gave me goosebumps as each vehicle commander chimed in with an “Amen” before hitting the gas and moving out. And yet there are those who still claim that we are not a Christian nation at heart.

My destination was one of our units who had been experiencing some disciplinary issues, namely, several Marines in that unit had been caught using drugs. It didn’t surprise me one bit. This is, after all, the world’s largest center for opium production. In addition to the opium-yielding poppies, there is also marijuana and hashish. That is an awful lot of temptation for a young Marine who feels alone, afraid, and far from home. But, we all know the rules, and we all swore an oath to uphold those rules. An investigation was commenced and I was sent out to assist. Luckily, the investigating officer was an intelligent Marine, and quickly grasped exactly what needed to be done. So I wasn’t terribly busy. I spent most of my time reading books and, you guessed it, working out. Time passed far too slowly, however, and I found myself trying to make time pass faster. But time is constant, and it goes at its own pace. There is no air-conditioning to speak of outside the wire, so shade is about the best one can manage during the hottest hours. No ice to speak of either, so we put our water bottles in a wet sock, and the evaporative effect works to cool the water to a palatable temperature. The outpost where we stayed was shared with 3 stray dogs. These were not mangy mutts, but were actually very good looking and good-natured dogs. It seemed like the Marines had unofficially adopted them.

One morning, the commander of the unit I was visiting asked if I wanted to accompany his unit on a patrol. This is like asking a starving man if he would like some food. A patrol is the quintessential combat activity. We would be foot-mobile, and would be marching into the heart of enemy territory. I was excited and a bit nervous, but I accepted immediately. The patrol was uneventful, thankfully, but it was a great experience to get out and see the locals face-to-face. I observed with amusement as the dogs led the patrol, going everywhere the Marines went, and wondering if they would be a liability. In retrospect, I think having them with us was good, as they could deter attackers or even signal danger.

Once my work with the investigation was complete, I moved to a new location. FOB Delhi is a post that is manned primarily by the British, with a handful of Marines present/ I like it at Delhi , because the British chefs are the cooks, which means that the food is freshly prepared, and is usually curry. I had an outstanding curry with fresh-baked bread (another rare luxury out here) for lunch one day. For dinner, it was fresh chicken pot pie with vegetables. Delicious!

My stay at Delhi was for the purpose of conducting the assessment of local governance that I had mentioned earlier. I was quite successful and was able to gather a lot of good information, which pleased me. My stay at Delhi , however, was cut short by tragedy. On 17 July, we received word that one of the bunkers back at Dwyer (my permanent camp) had collapsed and killed a Marine. Details were fuzzy, but we knew that we had lost one of our own in an accident. Then, the word came that it was Jason who had been killed. Jason had been sleeping in his bunker while some engineers were working on the roof. For some reason, the structure collapsed and he was crushed instantly. The only redeeming fact is that he probably died instantly and felt nothing. I am glad that he did not suffer. Jason leaves behind a wife, who is also a Marine officer, and a little girl. This is the first time in my life that I have personally known and been friends with a fellow Marine who died. We all know the risks of our line of work, and we know that deploying to combat puts us at risk. But nobody expects to die in a senseless accident. My heart broke for Jason’s widow and his daughter. I cannot delve into too many details at this time, as I am actually part of the investigating team. But rest assured that Jason’s loss is a big one, and although he is lost, he will never be forgotten.

Vacation Bible School

I'll be posting more about this soon with pictures, but I wanted to get it started so I don't get behind on it. So come back if you want to know more about our VBS week.

It's been a hard week because we've had swim lessons every morning and VBS every night. We've been getting up to work out, swim, nap, VBS, late bedtime then repeating the cycle for the last week. I'm going a little crazy to say the least.

But, tonight was pretty cute. I was helping out with some big kids so I didn't get to see the kids much, but I got to see them in the big assembly part. Mikey and Sami are in the same class and it's so fun to watch their relationship in settings without my supervision. Mikey watches out for Sami (and even steps in with occasional disciplining when he sees fit). During the assembly they were in the very front row, touching the stage, cuddling together. They had their arms around eachother (even with Mikey's thumb sucking/hair twirling habit). At one point, Mikey was telling Sami secrets. It was fun for me to watch - I missed some of what was happening on stage because I was so busy watching them.

Afterwards they always talk about everything they learned that evening. They are basically learning much of the basics of the Bible. Tonight was about the Tower of Babel and they learned about other languages. Mikey was proud of his teacher that she could speak Spanish. Lately he's been picking up on Spanish and I wish I could teach him more. But what was very interesting was when I reminded him that his Nana ("Daddy's Mommy") speaks Chinese he became so excited and wanted to know more. Unfortunately, I couldn't go very far with it because I don't know any Chinese. I finally made him happy when I offered two action items: first to call Nana and ask her to count to ten in Chinese and two, to tell his teacher that his Nana speaks Chinese. To both he answered with a resounding, "Yes, that's a really good idea!"

Okay, that's all for now. I'll get back with some more and some pictures.

Roman's Musical Talent

I still need to post about blueberry picking and haircuts, but I couldn't resist posting this clip of Roman. It is so funny to me!

Shakespeare

From Michael:
July 11, 2008

Shakespeare famously wrote “the first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers.” I cannot tell you how many times non-lawyers have tried to use that one on me. At first I would laugh it off as amusing, but over time, it has begun to grate on my nerves; the primary reason being that most people are totally unaware of the context of that phrase. It comes from “King Henry VI”, and it has to do with characters who are plotting to create anarchy and overthrow the government. They recognized that the rule of law was central to a civilized society, and that the rule of law depended on a system of justice to enforce those rules. The system of justice was comprised mostly of, you guessed it, lawyers! So, in order to create chaos and anarchy, one must kill all the lawyers, those whose job it is to instill and enforce civility and justice.

Here, in Afghanistan , it appears that the Taliban are well-versed in Shakespearean tactics. There are no lawyers in our province as they have been run out of town, and the only judge was assassinated. This makes for an easy day when it comes to bullying the local populace around. With no lawyers and no judge, there is no system of justice. Anarchy ensues.

One of my tasks is to conduct a thorough assessment of just how bad the current situation is with respect to governance and the rule of law in our sector. In order to accomplish this, I will be going back outside the wire to meet with some local officials to conduct a formal survey of sorts. Once I have captured and compiled the necessary data, I will then come up with proposed courses of action for paving the road to a civil and just society in this lawless land. I think it is a noble undertaking that, if done right, can have significant long-term impact on this part of the country. I hope that my efforts will be taken seriously. I cannot envision any productive future for Afghanistan unless the people of Afghanistan rise up and take responsibility for their nation. They cannot do that without some mechanism for holding accountable those who do not wish to participate. I really want to see this country succeed because I do not want my kids to have to finish what I started.

Sami's Birthday

Grandma and Grandpa came to visit for Sami's birthday. It was great because it gave me a extra pairs of hands (especially in helping to prepare for the party) and the kids loved having them here. Here's the whole trip in pictures (it was pretty much all about Sami's birthday):

Sami posing in front of her presents

Mikey helping Sami open presents

Reading one of Sami's presents (if you haven't figured it out, Dora the Explorer was the theme this year). I couldn't resist Dora, Sami looks just like her. Plus, I think Dora offers some education to the kids. Although, I really enjoy Little Einsteins the most.
Here's Sami and Grandpa being silly before bed. Thank you to GG for another adorable nightgown. Sami looks good in most colors, but this color is striking on her.
SAMI'S BIRTHDAY PARTY!

If you've ever watched Dora the Explorer you know that she pretty much follows the same sequence in all shows. The party was put together to follow the sequence. Everyone received a map when they walked in the door. Map (an actual character on the show) led us to the pinata with stops at a coloring table, Backpack (another character), Swiper (the "bad" guy), food, cake, and then finally, the pinata.

Here's the coloring table. The bright colored paper rolled up with the kids are the maps. I liked these coloring pages because it was color by number. They did pretty well.

Here's the Backpack game. They each were blindfolded and would pull an item out of Backpack. If they guessed what it was they won a prize. Everyone won a prize.

As you can see, the girls were intrigued just with watching the game.
Next was Swiper! Basically, it was "Duck, Duck, Goose" but instead of saying "Duck, Duck" the kids said "Dora, Boots" (Boots is Dora's monkey sidekick) and then instead of "Goose" the kids would say "Swiper". This is me explaining the game to the kids.
Dora...Boots...Dora...
...SWIPER!! Run Sami, Run!

We added some musical chairs to the mix to add some more fun. The kids really enjoyed this game too...



Sami got a chair! I can't remember who actually won.
Since Dora is Latina, we went with Fiesta food. We had quesadillas, soft tacos, and fruit and vegetable shish kabobs. It was all very yummy!

My friend Nadia made the cake. I was honored to be her first paying customer for Nadia's Yummy Creations, or NYC. She is amazing at this. They are yummy and as you can see, truly amazing looking. I've also had the wonderful job of tasting many of her creations at many of the parties she's baked cakes. I'll get the link and post it for you to order one of her cakes (if you live around here).
Can you believe she does this all on her own? That's Boots, the monkey to Dora's left and in front are Map and Backpack.

Here are the kids admiring the cake
Here's Sami licking her lips
Everyone seems to be satisfied
Including Roman

So here we are! We finally made it to the Pinata! Sami was the first to go...

Even Roman had a chance

Here's a quick video of all the fun.

Sami hugging Dora goodbye. BTW - In case you didn't notice, Sami is actually dressed like Dora.

Here's Sami dressed up like a princess holding her Dora doll.
Princess Sami making beautiful music

Here's some video of the beautiful music... hah! Just kidding. Here's a warning: it's only beautiful to those who think my kids are precious and to those who find screaming sibling rivalry sweet... view at your own risk.

Nicknames and Acronyms

From Michael:

July 8, 2008

In the military, we love acronyms. In fact, we use so many three-letter acronyms that we even have a three-letter acronym for “three-letter acronym”; TLA. We also like nicknames and callsigns. Nicknames are common anytime you get a large group of males forced together under challenging circumstances. For those of you who have played team sports, you understand this point. In the military, nicknames and callsigns serve various purposes. Sometimes, a guy’s last name is so long that it is abbreviated for ease of pronunciation. People with Slavic last names, which typically have at least one or more “z” and “y”, are usually just called “alphabet”. From the military perspective, callsigns serve several tactical purposes. It is easier to identify someone quickly based on their callsign than by last name, especially if they have a common last name. It also serves the purpose of not giving away the identity of the person to the enemy. Our unit has as its mascot a Cherokee Indian. Therefore, our unit’s callsign is Cherokee. Like most military organizations, our unit is then broken down into subordinate units, listed alphabetically. We use the phonetic alphabet to get Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie. Well, Alpha, Bravo and Charlie are kind of plain vanilla, so we like to add personality. Take your lettered companies like A, B, C, W, etc., and assign Native American tribes, and you end up with names like Apache, Blackfoot, Comanche, etc.

Certain personalities also get callsigns. One of our officers is “Hawkeye”. I’m not sure why, and I don’t think it has to do with the character from M*A*S*H*. Our civil affairs officer, who is responsible for shaking hands and kissing babies with the locals, and, more importantly, coordinating humanitarian projects with them such as building schools and such, is “Welldigger”. Get it? He digs wells, etc. We have a young Marine who has been disciplined so many times, that his nickname reflects his colored past, “NJP”. NJP stands for non-judicial punishment. It basically means that you get disciplined without going to a court-martial. It’s kind of like paying a fine instead of going to court. NJP is actually a good kid, but he has a bit of a speaking-before-thinking problem. My nickname/callsign is “Judge”. This is a common nickname for the lawyer, because my actual title is Battalion Staff Judge Advocate, or SJA for short. That’s too many syllables, so most prefer Judge. One or two call me “JAG”, which is technically inaccurate, because Marine lawyers are not called JAGs, as they are in the other branches of the military. We call ourselves Judge Advocates. The common mistake that many make is assuming that I am an actual judge, which of course, I am not. But they don’t need to know that, and I like the intimidation factor that being a judge provides. Military language also has its quirks. If someone is trying to make a point, and they want to confirm that their audience understands them, it is not uncommon to hear the speaker ask: “Are you buying what I’m selling?” or better yet “Are you smelling what I’m pooping?” How lovely.

Finally, we have also resorted to nicknaming inanimate objects. Here are some of my favorites. We call the large 7-ton truck that has a passenger carrier in the back an “armadillo”, because it looks like a large shell on the back. We call our rifles “pea-shooters” or “boomsticks”. We call sneakers “go fasters” (i.e. they make you go faster). We call any kind of sweetened drink like Kool Aid or such “bug juice” because the sugar attracts bugs. Instead of shaving, we call it “scraping your face”. And finally, my favorite, the “honeypot”. The honeypot is the cylindrical container that sits inside of our outhouse and collects our waste deposits. I am quite certain that honeypot is meant to be a misnomer, but I get a chuckle everytime some poor young soul is ordered to go clean the honeypots. Cleaning is a very loose term in this regard, as it entails dousing the contents of the honeypot with gasoline and tossing in a lit match. As a father of 3, everytime I hear the word “honeypot”, I think of Winnie the Pooh, an image that will forever remain tainted by my time in the Marine Corps.

Pictures from Michael

Michael celebrating Independence Day:

Do you think the food is worth the added heat?

Michael's gym:

Do you think the "shade" works to keep it cool?

Michael's watch with thermometer:

Pretty early to be that hot! 30 minutes time, 10 degrees!

Tired and extended and selfish

It's been more than a week since my last post. I'll be honest, I haven't wanted to post out of personal discouragement and exhaustion. My parents came in for Sami's birthday (soon I'll post pictures for that) and that was great, but when they left I was exhausted and tired and Michael and I were in a fight. Michael didn't expect us to fight while he was gone, but I knew it would happen sooner or later. Fortunately he was able to call and in a long drawn out conversation (the longest we've had since March; thanks to Nadia for watching the kids through part of it) we finally sorted it all out.

After that, Michael and I were doing well again via e-mail and I was feeling encouraged because we were finally half way done with the deployment. But, then I felt sick and even more tired. Instead of blogging, I worked on resting to kick out the sick feeling and that worked, but it took a few days. By the time it was done the 4th of July was the next day - holidays are big downers for me when Michael's away - so I became pretty discouraged. Which is the day that I received an e-mail from Michael that his deployment officially has been extended 30 days - not half-way yet. So, a mini-depression hit.

Fortunately I have a great church with great people who without knowing it provided plenty of distraction from my self-pity. In that time, my friend had her baby (see prayer request post from May) and they are doing well (but not out of the woods yet so keep praying). That was a great encouragement and helped distract some focus from myself.

Then, I found out that a friend from the Joint Law Center where Michael works when he's home will be traveling to her hometown to get medical care for her youngest. That doesn't sound so bad, except she's having to leave her husband alone here while she's there with the kids only to return about the time he deploys for 9-12 months. In case you don't get what that means: they will be geographically separated for atleast 15 months. Yup. That's all I needed to realize I am being extremely selfish and small-minded.

God is so much bigger and there is so much more to worry about besides what I worry about. Like Michael says, there's always someone else suffering more. At the beginning of the deployment I decided I was going to learn how to rejoice in suffering and focus on others rather than myself. I confess in the last week or so, I had lost that.

I'm refocusing again (symbolized by the new blog template) on God's plan for the testing he blesses us with for His glory.

In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. -- 1 Peter 1:6-7

Living Conditions, Independence Day, and Activities

From Michael:

A recent excerpt from a personal note to me describing his living environment:

My shower consists of 2 water bottles dumped over my head. My toilet is an oil drum cut in half with a wooden outhouse over the top of it. When I brush my teeth, I spit onto a pile of rocks on the ground. We do laundry with buckets of dirty water and no detergent.

July 4, 2008

Yesterday was the 232 anniversary of America ’s independence from the British crown. We celebrated in typical American fashion. The Commanding Officer ordered that all junior Marines would be permitted to sleep in late (7am), and that shorts and t-shirts were acceptable attire for the day. Both the shorts and the shirt had to be Marine Corps green, of course. At 9 am, a rather elaborate flag football tournament began. I was surprised at how many teams, 10 in all, entered the tournament. With temperatures reaching over 110 degrees by around 10:30am, I wasn’t sure that playing in a flag football tournament was my idea of a good time. I had already awoke earlier in the morning to run 6.5 miles, so my legs were already pretty tired, and I knew that I would need to drink lots of water to replenish what I had lost on the run. So I decided not to play. Instead, I taught 2 Marines how to throw a Frisbee. One was a young black Marine who thought that the Frisbee was an odd contraption, but had always wanted to know how to throw it. So I taught him. He asked, “is learning to throw a Frisbee something they require you to learn in college?” His observation had been that college kids love to throw Frisbee. An astute observation. The second Marine I taught was an older Mexican-American from New Jersey . He is a good-natured, happy-go-lucky, blue-collar Marine whom I like. He is a Staff Sergeant, so it is somewhat more acceptable for him to “hang out” with me. So I spent the 4th of July morning teaching a young black man and a Mexican-American how to toss a Frisbee. What could be more American than that?

We began our food-induced coma at around 2pm. On the 3rd, we had steaks, burgers, hot dogs, chicken, and spare ribs flown in. We took big oil drums (empty of course) and cut them in half to use as barbecue grills, and the entire morning of the 4th was spent grilling them. We also had such American staples as baked beans, corn on the cob, and Baskin Robbins ice cream. The grand irony in all of this is that we shared our meal with our British brethren. 232 years is not that long in terms of history. Yet here we sat, 232 years after declaring our independence from the tyranny and injustices of the British Crown, eating steaks, burgers and hot dogs with men and women who have sworn an oath of allegiance to that very same crown.

As the day drew to a close, I thought about that irony, and then thought, and hoped, that maybe it wasn’t so ironic after all. Maybe 232 years from now, my descendants will be celebrating with Iraqi or Afghan soldiers their independence. Not independence from America , but independence from terror and tyranny. That would be nice. I have learned that nobody on earth wants peace more than a soldier at war.

June 30, 2008

Things have been pretty slow lately from the legal side, which is usually a good thing. I have been tasked with various other odd jobs, which I don’t mind too much as they tend to help the day go by faster. They key to being in the desert, where it is unbearably hot, and without easy access to electricity, which can make it unbearably boring, is to find things to do to pass the time. I have enjoyed reading and working out, which are two things I like to do wherever I happen to be. When I am not doing either of those, I just try to find ways to pass the time. I try to read up on the news and find out what is happening in the world, and sometimes I just try to nap, although that can be difficult in this heat.

One of my tasks is to provide legal guidance to our Civil Military Operations Center (CMOC). The CMOC is where we consolidate all of the issues that need to be dealt with in the area that are not directly combat-related. Basically, it means that the locals have a central place to go whenever they have a grievance with us. If we blew up their house or their livestock, or both, they come and file a claim and we pay them. They have to provide identification, paperwork proving that they were the rightful owners, etc. We record everything and, if it all looks legitimate, we pay them. Payment is not an admission of guilt or wrongdoing, but merely an expression of our humanity and sympathy. In combat, people get killed and things get blown up. Sometimes, the person killed or the building blown up was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. We are here to help this nation back on its feet, so we do no good if we just shrug our shoulders and tell them to deal with it. This side of war seems to bring out the best in us as Americans, as we have this innate sense of obligation to help those who can’t seem to help themselves. My job in all of this is to examine the claims and make sure what we are doing is legal and justified. Sometimes, people try to take advantage of American taxpayer largess (yes, American taxpayers foot the bill). One on occasion, a man said that one of our units shot up his minivan. He gave some details such as where he was, the color of his van, how much the damages cost to repair (he was very sure to give us that number!), etc. So I got sent out to do an investigation to verify the details. Turns out that the unit in question did indeed shoot up a vehicle, except that it was not a white minivan with three occupants, it was a black pickup truck with one occupant! Needless to say, we did not pay that claim. And the hits just keep on coming.