I’ve been craving Taco Bell for a while. In fact, if I were in the States I’d probably be going there every day. It would be a staple of my pregnancy diet. But no, I’m up here in Canada. If you ever come here do NOT order Mexican food. It’s like they have seen pictures of Mexican food, but have no idea what the ingredients really are supposed to be. I had “nachos” once with spaghetti sauce on them, and “fajitas” that they served with RAW vegetables and cold tortillas. Something really gets lost in the translation between our Southern border and our Northern one. I think part of it is Canadians have geriatric taste buds. Flavor? Who needs flavor? (Spell check keeps trying to put a U in flavor as in flavour. I’ve been fighting with paper-clip man.) And actual spicy spice? Oh, no – we don’t go for that up here!
So, back to Taco Bell. I knew there was one here in town and yesterday I couldn’t take it anymore so I drove all the way over there. I pull up and I was a little leery when only about 6 things were on the menu board. Uh- oh. I go ahead and order “two meximelts and a nachos bellgrande.” The box says, “We don’t have those.” I reply, “So, you’re not really a Taco Bell then?” The box just asks what I want. I order some tacos (not even taco supremes) and a bean burrito especial. I pronounced “especial” correctly and they didn’t know what I said. I get to the window, pay, and say, “I’d like a bunch of Fire sauce, please.” Well, guess what? They don’t have FIRE sauce, either! They really aren’t a Taco Bell!! WTF?
I really didn’t think they would – I don’t know any Canadians who would eat Fire sauce, but there are a billion immigrants here from countries that eat spicy food. I mean, all the women working in there were from the Middle East. I just don’t see how Taco Bell Corporate can let them call themselves a Taco Bell. They don’t have NACHOS or taco supremes! They don’t have Fire sauce! It isn’t a Taco Bell, it’s a disgrace!!!!
Anyway, I’m going to DC for a week in October. I’ll be going to the Bell and stocking up on Fire sauce, and I’ll finally get the meximelts and nachos bellgrande that I am craving!! Head to the Border, y’all!
Friday, September 30, 2005
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Getting Liquored Up in Iraq!
I was lying in bed last night, not sleeping since I can’t sleep on my back anymore and because my nose is so stuffed up I can’t breathe – so for some reason I started thinking about my time in Iraq.
Some of the contractors over there have reasonable rules for their employees. They understand the strain you are under so they allow one to have a drink or two off duty. Not the company I worked for – they decided to treat everyone like they were eight instead of grown adults. It was completely against the rules for us to drink or “knock boots.” Of course, most site managers had a more liberal interpretation on this and would only take action if you got drunk and were running through camp naked or something. (Notice I said most, not all – I went through several site managers and some of them joined us in a drink and others went on witch-hunts.)
You may be wondering where in the world one could get alcohol in Iraq! Well, contrary to popular belief it is available – and we were also close to the Turkish border so the truck drivers would bring it in. In the beginning the only stuff available was this swill that smelled like Jack Daniels (yummmm) but tasted like some kind of awful tequila. You had to be pretty desperate to get hammered on that stuff. The usual fare turned out to be Johnny Walker Red Label – blehhhh, mixed with Sprite - double blehhhh. That is, until the Brits moved in! Our base was one of the ones where the “money plane” would land (the planes taking all the new currency all around Iraq) and Global Security was the contractor supplying security to the money shipments over land. God Bless the Brits! They had actual real liquor – beer, Jack Daniels, etc.
A couple of the guys and I would go over across base occasionally and engage in some rousing evenings of Trivial Pursuit – Americans vs. the Brits. Of course, we always won – let’s face it, it is an American game. One evening they even rigged it to win. They memorized all the answers on the first few cards in our pre-selected box. The funny thing was they still lost! They kept giving really bizarre answers and we were like, dude, your answers make no sense. Yea, they memorized the answers, but not the questions they went to! (Must have been the Tuborg.)
Normally, a drink or two was all one ever needed but sometimes the stress, news from back home, being a little too close to where a mortar had just landed would lead to one of us really needing to tie one on. (Something about someone trying to kill you, I don’t know.) That was the great part about it. It was like we could read the signs in our friends and when it was their “turn” we would let them cut loose and take care of them so they didn’t run through camp naked. Seriously, every time we went across base to join the Brits we all risked being fired – because we were all essential personnel in the event of an attack at night. At that time I was in charge of being on the radio and getting an accurate headcount of all our employees and all our subcontractors employees, making sure no one was injured or dead. And there we would be – trapped across base, all likkered up, and pretty much out of range for our stupid radios. Each time before we would go over we would discuss if we thought we were going to be attacked that night. There were indicators when “hajji was in the wire”, and if any of them had happened during the day we wouldn’t go. Luckily, no mortars ever did come in on our nights! We all would have been on the next plane out the next day.
In the end we did end up with one of the witch-hunt site managers, but even then if you practised moderate common sense you would be ok. Number one would be if you go on vacation give your stash to someone else! If you didn’t think they were going to go in your hooch and snoop around, well, then, it was your own fault. My room was completely trashed when I got back from vacation – but do you think they found anything? No! We had one guy go on vacation and he got fired even before he got back because he had weapons in his room along with alcohol. Don’t keep contraband in your hooch when you are gone! Number two would be not to keep it in your room anyway (underneath someone else’s hooch was always good) or have a really really good hiding place in your room. We had to work 12 –14 hours a day, plenty of time for a site manager who didn’t like you to go search your room.
We had 4 guys get fired when I was there during the reign of the witch-hunt manager. One guy didn’t get rid of his stash before a lock down room to room inspection, and 3 other guys didn’t follow the “watch your buddy” rule one night and all 3 of them got so hammered they were practically running through camp naked. But in the end, I don’t know of a single person they couldn’t have fired for breaking the “no drinking” rule at our camp. Yet, we all still managed to get to work on time each day, put in a full days work, and carry on. Actually, the turnover rate would have been much higher without the contraband alcohol – we were under a little stress, and there was nothing else to do!!!! That is why, if for some crazy reason I EVER go back over there as a contractor it will be with one of the many other companies I found out about once I got there. Companies that pay just as well, if not better – and ALLOW a drink or two!!!
Some of the contractors over there have reasonable rules for their employees. They understand the strain you are under so they allow one to have a drink or two off duty. Not the company I worked for – they decided to treat everyone like they were eight instead of grown adults. It was completely against the rules for us to drink or “knock boots.” Of course, most site managers had a more liberal interpretation on this and would only take action if you got drunk and were running through camp naked or something. (Notice I said most, not all – I went through several site managers and some of them joined us in a drink and others went on witch-hunts.)
You may be wondering where in the world one could get alcohol in Iraq! Well, contrary to popular belief it is available – and we were also close to the Turkish border so the truck drivers would bring it in. In the beginning the only stuff available was this swill that smelled like Jack Daniels (yummmm) but tasted like some kind of awful tequila. You had to be pretty desperate to get hammered on that stuff. The usual fare turned out to be Johnny Walker Red Label – blehhhh, mixed with Sprite - double blehhhh. That is, until the Brits moved in! Our base was one of the ones where the “money plane” would land (the planes taking all the new currency all around Iraq) and Global Security was the contractor supplying security to the money shipments over land. God Bless the Brits! They had actual real liquor – beer, Jack Daniels, etc.
A couple of the guys and I would go over across base occasionally and engage in some rousing evenings of Trivial Pursuit – Americans vs. the Brits. Of course, we always won – let’s face it, it is an American game. One evening they even rigged it to win. They memorized all the answers on the first few cards in our pre-selected box. The funny thing was they still lost! They kept giving really bizarre answers and we were like, dude, your answers make no sense. Yea, they memorized the answers, but not the questions they went to! (Must have been the Tuborg.)
Normally, a drink or two was all one ever needed but sometimes the stress, news from back home, being a little too close to where a mortar had just landed would lead to one of us really needing to tie one on. (Something about someone trying to kill you, I don’t know.) That was the great part about it. It was like we could read the signs in our friends and when it was their “turn” we would let them cut loose and take care of them so they didn’t run through camp naked. Seriously, every time we went across base to join the Brits we all risked being fired – because we were all essential personnel in the event of an attack at night. At that time I was in charge of being on the radio and getting an accurate headcount of all our employees and all our subcontractors employees, making sure no one was injured or dead. And there we would be – trapped across base, all likkered up, and pretty much out of range for our stupid radios. Each time before we would go over we would discuss if we thought we were going to be attacked that night. There were indicators when “hajji was in the wire”, and if any of them had happened during the day we wouldn’t go. Luckily, no mortars ever did come in on our nights! We all would have been on the next plane out the next day.
In the end we did end up with one of the witch-hunt site managers, but even then if you practised moderate common sense you would be ok. Number one would be if you go on vacation give your stash to someone else! If you didn’t think they were going to go in your hooch and snoop around, well, then, it was your own fault. My room was completely trashed when I got back from vacation – but do you think they found anything? No! We had one guy go on vacation and he got fired even before he got back because he had weapons in his room along with alcohol. Don’t keep contraband in your hooch when you are gone! Number two would be not to keep it in your room anyway (underneath someone else’s hooch was always good) or have a really really good hiding place in your room. We had to work 12 –14 hours a day, plenty of time for a site manager who didn’t like you to go search your room.
We had 4 guys get fired when I was there during the reign of the witch-hunt manager. One guy didn’t get rid of his stash before a lock down room to room inspection, and 3 other guys didn’t follow the “watch your buddy” rule one night and all 3 of them got so hammered they were practically running through camp naked. But in the end, I don’t know of a single person they couldn’t have fired for breaking the “no drinking” rule at our camp. Yet, we all still managed to get to work on time each day, put in a full days work, and carry on. Actually, the turnover rate would have been much higher without the contraband alcohol – we were under a little stress, and there was nothing else to do!!!! That is why, if for some crazy reason I EVER go back over there as a contractor it will be with one of the many other companies I found out about once I got there. Companies that pay just as well, if not better – and ALLOW a drink or two!!!
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
My amnio
Today I am going to talk about my amnio experience. Since I have waited until this advanced age to produce offspring I was automatically given the option of an amnio. They do that for all of us geezers. Of course I did it because I want to KNOW! (Just so you know – I don’t feel old but a woman giving birth for the first time at or over the age of 35 is an 'elderly prima gravida' and any pregnant woman 35 or older is a 'senile gravida.' – How are those for pleasant scientfic labels?)
Everyone says that the worst part is waiting for the test results. Not for me (so far anyway.) For me, the worst part was was waiting for the actual test. By the time I finally got my appointment I was completely freaked out about the idea of a long needle being stabbed into my uterus and sucking out some juice. It was the whole long needle thing that was freaking me out.
So, we go into the exam room, and they start the ultrasound. The baby was just laying there sucking its thumb, not doing anything. The doctor finds a nice empty place to stab me. Then, I asked – “You only have to stab me once, right?” The doctor replied, “Oh, yea –ohhh, well, I would say 90% of the time it only takes once. But sometimes, not very often, the baby moves and we have to do it again.” Well, apparently those sound waves activated my baby and it started twisting and turning and moving all over. The doctor goes ahead and inserts the needle in the original spot he picked out. Now, honestly, that part did not hurt. When he got to the uterus I felt the pressure and it was like he was pushing through a rubber band in me. But it was totally creepy! I was sweating bullets and the nice ultrasound lady got a cold cloth for my head. My DP let me hold his hand - I probably halfway broke his fingers!! The baby was still doing gymnastics so after moving the needle around inside me they finally have to take it out and find a new spot. I jinxed myself and got stabbed twice!! Completely psychologically unnerving (but as I said, not physically painful.) Finally, he started sucking the juice out. That felt weird, too – I could feel the suction.
I was part of a study so they had to take an extra tube of juice. I figured the needle was already in there and it wasn’t going to hurt me. The study is being done to figure out if there is a way they can get the results back to you in 2 or 3 DAYS as opposed to the 2 or 3 WEEKS it takes now. More power to them! I mean, you have to wait so late in the pregnancy to get the amnio –then adding another couple weeks onto that. I’m sure that makes the decision to terminate just that much harder, if necessary.
Before I left I had to get an extra shot. Since I have RH negative blood I had to get a shot of WinRho. The nurse had this GIGANTIC needle in her hand. I looked at it for a bit, then said, “That sure is a big needle. Your’e not going to use that, are you?” She started laughing and said, no, that would be mean. She was just mixing up the stuff with that one. Whewwww!!! I didn’t even feel it when I got the shot. But, I am sure, that after the long, alien-probe needle in my uterus my boby didn’t even register such a small one at that time.
Now the waiting begins….I have to wait for the test results, which will also tell me the gender. I was really hoping to find that out right away, but it was still too tiny to tell.
One good thing is I didn’t have to do anything the rest of the day. The lady told me (this is a quote, the double negative is hers, not mine), “Now don’t do absolutely nothing the rest of the day.” So I got to lay in bed the rest of the day reading my Patricia Cornwell novel and a couple magazines and drink a lot of water and juice. Basically, I was bored – but it was a cloudy, windy day threatening rain so I didn’t mind missing my walk too much.
Everyone says that the worst part is waiting for the test results. Not for me (so far anyway.) For me, the worst part was was waiting for the actual test. By the time I finally got my appointment I was completely freaked out about the idea of a long needle being stabbed into my uterus and sucking out some juice. It was the whole long needle thing that was freaking me out.
So, we go into the exam room, and they start the ultrasound. The baby was just laying there sucking its thumb, not doing anything. The doctor finds a nice empty place to stab me. Then, I asked – “You only have to stab me once, right?” The doctor replied, “Oh, yea –ohhh, well, I would say 90% of the time it only takes once. But sometimes, not very often, the baby moves and we have to do it again.” Well, apparently those sound waves activated my baby and it started twisting and turning and moving all over. The doctor goes ahead and inserts the needle in the original spot he picked out. Now, honestly, that part did not hurt. When he got to the uterus I felt the pressure and it was like he was pushing through a rubber band in me. But it was totally creepy! I was sweating bullets and the nice ultrasound lady got a cold cloth for my head. My DP let me hold his hand - I probably halfway broke his fingers!! The baby was still doing gymnastics so after moving the needle around inside me they finally have to take it out and find a new spot. I jinxed myself and got stabbed twice!! Completely psychologically unnerving (but as I said, not physically painful.) Finally, he started sucking the juice out. That felt weird, too – I could feel the suction.
I was part of a study so they had to take an extra tube of juice. I figured the needle was already in there and it wasn’t going to hurt me. The study is being done to figure out if there is a way they can get the results back to you in 2 or 3 DAYS as opposed to the 2 or 3 WEEKS it takes now. More power to them! I mean, you have to wait so late in the pregnancy to get the amnio –then adding another couple weeks onto that. I’m sure that makes the decision to terminate just that much harder, if necessary.
Before I left I had to get an extra shot. Since I have RH negative blood I had to get a shot of WinRho. The nurse had this GIGANTIC needle in her hand. I looked at it for a bit, then said, “That sure is a big needle. Your’e not going to use that, are you?” She started laughing and said, no, that would be mean. She was just mixing up the stuff with that one. Whewwww!!! I didn’t even feel it when I got the shot. But, I am sure, that after the long, alien-probe needle in my uterus my boby didn’t even register such a small one at that time.
Now the waiting begins….I have to wait for the test results, which will also tell me the gender. I was really hoping to find that out right away, but it was still too tiny to tell.
One good thing is I didn’t have to do anything the rest of the day. The lady told me (this is a quote, the double negative is hers, not mine), “Now don’t do absolutely nothing the rest of the day.” So I got to lay in bed the rest of the day reading my Patricia Cornwell novel and a couple magazines and drink a lot of water and juice. Basically, I was bored – but it was a cloudy, windy day threatening rain so I didn’t mind missing my walk too much.
Monday, September 19, 2005
My Act of Vandalism in Turkey
While I was in Turkey I got to attend a circumcision party. (That is another story all in itself.) We were walking into the salon where it was being held – it was on the bottom floor, and on the top floor of the building there was a photo studio. The studio had advertising pictures in the stairwell, and right at the stairs leading to the salon there was this giant poster-sized picture hanging on the wall. I glanced at it and kept going, but then it registered in my brain. I stopped in my tracks, went back, and gasped in horror!! At first glance it looked like a normal cornball wedding picture of the couple with some typical scene superimposed on the background. Well my friends, this happy smiling couple was in front of a background of the Twin Towers…after they had both been hit and were burning! And on top, in burning letters it said, “Senin Için” which means “For You.” I was completely appalled. I wonder, was the groom in on it and he was implying he did this for his smiling bride? Was it some sick joke? Was the couple just an unsuspecting pair the photographer used for this obscenity? Is the photographer a terrorist or have terrorist sympathies?
Anyway, we went in to the party but I kept obsessing on the picture, so about an hour later I went back outside. I wanted to take the picture down and break it, but my friend didn’t want me to do it. I tried paying a couple kids $5 to do it, but they wouldn’t do it. So, I told my friend I had no choice – I had to do it. I took the photo off the wall. Then I took the picture out of the frame and ripped it up into tiny little pieces. The parking attendants and a couple ladies from the party were watching me, but no one tried to stop me.
I can’t imagine what that photographer was thinking. I also hope that I was the first American to see that picture. I would like to think that any American would have done the same thing (but that’s just me.) All I know is I would have felt a lot of guilt and regret if I had just let that picture hanging there!!
Anyway, we went in to the party but I kept obsessing on the picture, so about an hour later I went back outside. I wanted to take the picture down and break it, but my friend didn’t want me to do it. I tried paying a couple kids $5 to do it, but they wouldn’t do it. So, I told my friend I had no choice – I had to do it. I took the photo off the wall. Then I took the picture out of the frame and ripped it up into tiny little pieces. The parking attendants and a couple ladies from the party were watching me, but no one tried to stop me.
I can’t imagine what that photographer was thinking. I also hope that I was the first American to see that picture. I would like to think that any American would have done the same thing (but that’s just me.) All I know is I would have felt a lot of guilt and regret if I had just let that picture hanging there!!
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