Update here in Mother Afghanistan

There I was thinking that I did a good thing by adding a little variety to the “Macias Family” Blog and putting what I think is what people want to see and read about. So I couldn’t wait for it to be morning for you infidel Americans and call Cami so I let her sleep in until 7 a.m. that’s 6:30 p.m. here in the motherland. Not a second later I get her on the horn and wake her sleepy butt up and trying to be cool and not sound to anxious to tell her that I put something worth reading on this one man posting, one man reading blog. Ya wanna know what she said to me when she answered? “call me back, I’m trying to poop!” ha ha just kidding! So anyway, I go through all the formalities such as “oh did I wake you up? I am sorry” (like I didn’t know) and “what did you dream about?” blah blah blah. Now understand my world revolves around when I get to talk to my babies’ mama, but today I was to receive accolades for doing the World Wide Web a service from my beautiful bride. At least in my mind kinda like the kid in A Christmas Story when he turns in his paper and the teacher writes on the chalkboard A+ + + + +. Ya exactly like that only different. So I tell her that I added to the blog and so she wipes the sleep out of her eyes and shuffles over to the computer in her moo moo scratching her butt and yawning. She fires up the computer and reads it and tells me “thank you for the beautiful stuff on the blog but you didn't put anything about afghan”

Now that was a lot to say for her just telling me to add some Afghanistan crap. But this is my world as I see it and I am a storyteller, plus I didn’t take my Ritalin.

So here I am its 10:30 pm and I am doing laundry and especially missing Cami cause in the last fourteen years of being married I have done one and a half loads of laundry, that’s because when we first got married she asked me to do the laundry so I hurried to the dollar store and bought the cheapest made in china red wash rag and threw it in her load of whites. I thought pink was her color.

So I am here behind the wire at Camp Gibson in Kabul while the Nepalese Gurkhas keep watch. Those dudes are the most respectful and loyal folks but, I understand they are some fierce fighters and wont quit until the enemy are all dead or they are. They remind me of those midget lion wrestling guys on Nacho Libre. Anyway I have been on a couple of different convoys to Camp Phoenix an Army and Marine base to pick up things at their PX, but mainly cause they have a Pizza Hut and Dairy Queen which beats the beef and chicken byproduct they serve here at this porkless kitchen. I am now a pork crusader. But I would rather go to the ISAF (International Security Assistance Force) base because their women are hotter, hairier but hotter maybe that’s why they smell like butt crack and armpits (Cami is going to love me for that one). Actually because they have such a diverse force there they have more variety and a permanent bazaar, but the only thing about that is everything is in Euros but of course they take US currency but give you back that fake Euro money for change.

I bought some stuff to send back to the family and you can see how Afghanistan is influenced by the surrounding countries and the many that have tried to conquer and failed. I went to one Hajji shop and he had tourist trap type stuff. Another had real fur from rat fur to actual mink and leather coats made from naga (I think nagas are small and it takes a lot of them to make a coat plus they are hard to catch, no seams either wow) to camels. I went to another Hajji and his little shop was influenced by India with the oil genie lamps and funny curled shoes, he even had a magic carpet and let me take it for a burn. It was hard to keep my balance and it got away and not two seconds later a U.S. fighter flew by and blasted it. You could tell it was the U.S. cause all the ISAF except the Italians but especially the French all went running for cover waiving their permanently affixed white flag. I felt bad for the Hajji and went ahead and bought the curly shoes. I bought something from a young kid that was a part of a traveling bazaar that comes here to Camp Gibson and I gave him a down payment for some custom work. Before I gave him the money I gave him a disclaimer by telling him that if he don’t knock on the gate by Thursday and give me my secret item, I will slip by the Gurkhas sneak out, find him, kill him, take more from him than he owes me and write it all off as a honor killing. Because they all look the same I took a picture of this kid to make sure I get the right one, I might feel bad if I got the wrong one. (for those non- believers I’ll attach a picture of the kid and my face tells it all). So after that as I was leaving I smelled something good and I saw a couple of old Mujahideen men cooking up some type of meat, dog or an old piece of suicide bomber and it was good.

I have to finish up Combat Life Saving before I head to my post, I am scheduled to fly out soon but I would rather convoy out cause I get air sick in a helicopter. Apparently every convoy that has gone there has run into “technical difficulties.” So right now my biggest decision is which thumb to put in, I guess I’ll find out when I bite my nails.

Well its 12:30 and I have already finished my laundry and have talked to my family and I have to wake up at 0430 hours its been a good day. Maybe I’ll wash my thumbs.