Turns Out

Oh, reality.

I spoke to (you know, silently, via computer, typing) a colleague in Egypt who (YES!) confirmed that we need an SUV, but gave (NO!) very reasonable, even persuasive, arguments against getting a fully-loaded, super decked out version.

This is sad.

But really, what are you going to leave out? Third row seating? Required. Dual screen entertainment system? Mandatory. Protective paint sealant? Hello, sand storms. And we've already dealt with the oil cap issue.

So maybe nothing changes. Other than I expend more political capital with Katie.

Speaking of, one day to Turkey. In honor of which, here is a Google Map of part of our itinerary:

It's all color coded in my super secret, Ovaltine Decoder Ring system. So don't even try to guess what a fork and knife represent.

This Is What I'm Talking About

Seriously, who doesn't want this covering their oil? Under the hood? Who cares. Looks awesome. Useful in any way? Probably not.

Perfect.

The Man I've Become

Sample conversation with my wife:

"So, I was just working on the 2014 cash flow projections and, um, how often do you buy new make up?"

"I refuse to answer that. You're crazy."

It's a very attractive cash flow projection with accompanying charts and graphs. Mint.com recently became a new friend contributing much in this area. Mmm. Pie charts.

The next tab over from my beautiful cash flow--which includes columns for checking, savings, and credit balance (I know, you totally want to be me)--tracks my balance in Pakistani Rupees and the balance on my American Club Card for the embassy.

A few more esoteric tabs tracking various "1.21 Gigawatts!" types of things and then, the final tab, my favorite: Frequent Flyer miles projections. I can tell you how many United miles I will have on February 29, 2012. Yes, it's leap year.

I've been planning Christmas since Labor Day. I have each day of my 12 days at home mapped out in intricate detail (though this trip will be sadly busy with all kinds of practical things like getting medicals and passports for everyone to go to Egypt). But also a few rockin' things like shopping for a totally decked out Toyota 4Runner. You heard me correctly. I will buy a brand new car, with leather seats, and protective paint coating, and those silly oil cap covers that supposedly look awesome but are under the hood so why am I paying extra for these? All of it.

Car salesman: Would you like to add the...

Me: Yes. And the next thing, also yes. I just became closer to 40 than I am to 30 and I'm buying the car to show for it. Bring it.

Madam Secretary, Again

The Help

Hina and Maqsood work for me. At first this was strange. As the fourth of five boys of a middle income family in Idaho Falls, I was independent. You want it? Go get it.

Funny how quickly one gets used to luxury. I no longer find it strange. I find it awesome.

They are a young couple, charming and ever smiling. They are Mormon (who knew there were Mormons in Pakistan). She speaks and understands English. He speaks some; just enough that I sometimes think he understands it. But he has no idea what I'm saying. He just smiles and nods.

I asked him to pick up five cookies from the store. He came back with five boxes of cookies. Close enough.

I can only go to the store if I give motor pool about 24 hours notice. This is a Diplomatic condition known as Multilateral Lameness. So I send Maqsood.

Hina and Maqsood are first cousins. I cannot tell if they are proud or embarrassed by this. They like to tell people. They get a good laugh out of Americans' efforts to react in a culture neutral way. They're marriage was arranged.

I have a roommate, Loren, who is the most social person I have ever met (that detail is not relevant to Hina and Maqsood, I'm just saying that's how he is). He splits the cost with me. As does my boss. I arranged the deal and had Hina and Maqsood working for me before Loren and Joe arrived, so I am the go between. Sometimes this is materially less than optimal.

Pakistan is a Funny Place

I received a text message at 11 p.m. Sunday night: Tomorrow declared national holiday. Embassy closed.

What a place.

The Flight is the Vacation

For reasons detailed and boring to explain, I was in Dubai over the weekend. Hotel check out was noon and the flight was 11 p.m. I can only walk around gaudy malls for so long, so I went to the airport with about seven hours to go until the flight. Then, a stroke of genius.

Are there any upgrades available? And what is the price? $150 to business class including access to the lounge, free food, private bathrooms, etc. Done.

I'm just a small town boy from Idaho Falls, ID. I work for the government. I had never flown anything other than economy. I'm telling, it was a life changing experience.

Hanging out at the airport for seven hours was, and I'm serious, awesome. I took a shower. I ate really good food. I took a nap.

Then, when it was time, I walked right onto the plane. No line. Who knew? I know, this is old news to many of you. But when I turned my seat into a bed, I realized that business class makes the airplane the vacation. I think I'll fly again, with no where to go, just so I can have another plane-cation.

Cross Fit

One minute each, a few seconds rest in between: jump on and off a three-foot wall; swing a 25-pound weight over your head; rowing machine; carry 50-pounds back and forth across the quad; 200 meter sprint; jump rope; push ups; burpees; throw medicine ball straight up and catch it; mountain climbers; hold sitting position; lunges; pull ups; dips; ladders; swing sledgehammer (my favorite); 50 meter sprints dragging a tire; jumping jacks; finish with a 200 meter sprint.

It felt like two-a-days in high school football. I could almost hear Coach Sampson: "Hart, you're my secret weapon.

"Really, coach?"

"No, I just don't want you to quit the team."

Groundhog Day

Anything that breaks up the monotony is welcome. My house was temporarily evacuated for security reasons. I guess I was worried about the security reasons, but really it was nice just to have something new. They moved me into a guest house with several other diplomats. Now I'm back in my own house. I've started shopping the local markets for all manner of custom-made goods: leather shoes, furniture, rugs, suits, jewelry, etc. Not that I really want to buy any of it. It's just something to do.

I've started attending more of the parties, but as a teetotaler, I can only stay so long and still blend in. I'm going to join a group that does all manner of crazy exercises that they call "cross fit." It's like Rocky III. You rotate among such stations as "Whack a Giant Tire with a Sledgehammer" and "Pull Ups with Medicine Ball Between Your Legs." We'll see how long I last at that.

On My Way to Work

Leaving

Observing spontaneous, uncontrollable expressions of love from my children has been miraculous.

Throughout my visit, in the middle of playing, Henry would yell out, "I love you dad!" As they ran circles around the living room in some kind of crazy chase-fight, he would yell it out without stopping. In the middle of watching a TV show he would look up and say it and then keep watching. All the time he would tell me he loved me.

The love was written plainly on their faces when they saw me exit the airport doors. The hugs. And again as they waived goodbye upon my departure.

To observe them in wonder of their own love for me is singular. It is curious that it gives me as much pain as joy. It makes me feel at once light and heavy.

God, bless my beautiful children.