(photo by Michael J. Totten)Unpacking
It would be more fun to unpack if my butt wasn't dragging so much. The carpets are accepted with joy despite my use of mothballs. One escapes and I am compelled by Abigail to chase it down and make it go away, far away. I don't open celophane wrappper on the Johnnie Walker Blue Label to look at the actual bottle until I've slept a good seven hours on a vertical surface. Bruce is ecstatic to have me back and mostly keeps his complaints about the mothballs to himself. Mostly. It is several hours before he lets me out of his sight without anxiety, but he is a good dog.
I call my mother to let her know that I'm back from my trip, but chicken out from telling her where I've been. It is going to be a difficult transition for her to accept that Iraqi Kurdistan is an amazingly safe dangerous place. The Prime Minister of Turkey isn't making that any easier. She is so invested in the New York Times "all car bombs, all the time" vision of Iraq that my responsibility to let her know where I've been is just one of the more difficult aspects of the trip. So don't any of you tell her where I've been... It will be our secret.