The internet went down yesterday, but only for my computer. I restarted a couple times, and nothing happened. I woke up this morning and it worked. Maybe my mom is on to something about computers being unpredictable and unlearnable. I'm a little behind on replying to email, so don't think I'm blowing you off.
Anyway, it is another beautiful Rustamiyah night with the golden haze of burning trash brightening the night sky, and the gentle smell of sewage floating through the air. Iraqis must have a fiber rich diet, because the sewage plant has more of a dairy farm bouqet than a feed lot aroma. It is nowhere as foul as chicken or pig. Oddly, I had a dream about being back on the Van der Woode's dairy farm in Ramona last night. Good memories. Maybe the smell is not so bad.
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i completely understand the power of recollections triggered by the smell of manure. having grown up in lancaster county, the smell of spring is for me incomplete without the warm, ripe goodness of mucked-out barn.
sadly, every field around my parents' house, save one, has been turned into a suburban waste land (and yes, i separated that word on purpose).
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