Cookie Day, On and Around

Hey there. I'm still here.

You're still there? Glad to hear it. I hope everything back home is doing great. I can imagine that fun times are being had herding college athletic fans on game days, fun outings with good friends, and lightning fast motorcycle rides off in places never been.

In some ways I envy all of you. Being able to see the leaves turn in the fall becomes something to appreciate when the only plants ever seen are in your salad. The freedom to get out and see the world with no limitations on time an distance (real world obligations ignored for the moment, of course). The lack of personal transportation down here can be somewhat of a limiting factor, especially when you just like to get out and drive. They aren't really necessary, however, when everything around you is virtually insurmountable by machine anyway.

Makes it sound like I miss my life back in civilization, doesn't it? Maybe a little. Maybe not as much as you think, though.

Life here has been interesting. Yesterday was cookie day. Cookie day is now officially the only day of the week that I now recognize anymore. Every other day is just based off of how many days are left until the next cookie day. It's easier to remember and announces itself with a delicious smell every time it comes around.

Since I haven't really explained to you what cookie day is, and I may presume that you may indeed be somewhat curious as to what it may be, I shall explain. Briefly.

Cookie day is the most important day of the week here in Mactown. It is the one day a week that freshly baked cookies are served to the denizens of Antarctica's biggest city. Freshly baked cookies are like gold here, with many people smuggling them out back to their work centers with them. They are tasty and best enjoyed the day of baking. Sadly, the day after baking, they can then be used to construct a new building.

Cookie day is important here. Almost as important as our beloved Frosty Boy.

Life marches on here, punctuated weekly by cookie day.

Life marched on today, for most, at least. We did have a few fatalities, though only of the temporary variety.

Mactown had it's annual mass casualty incident drill today, leaving us here at the firehouse dreading the giant mess that we knew we were about to stumble into.

In the end, it did turn into a mess, though not by our own fault. As it is a drill, hiccups are to be expected. Most of them came from some overzealous actors and other departments not used to operating in the worst the world can offer. I was bored (aside from the occasional urge to punch some of the previously mentioned patients), but everyone else from other departments was hopping around with that dazed and eager look that only causes trouble.

My apologies to the lovely and unfortunate Kiwi that died on us. To be fair, it wasn't my fault you were assigned life threatening injuries and moved onto an army stretcher that I needed. However, since you were still really alive, I do feel bad that I had need of your cot in order to save the still living, noticed that you had expired, and unceremoniously chucked you off of it onto the frigid ground. I'm sure it wasn't the most pleasant time, but such is life, oui? If I catch you over at American Night, I'll buy you some of that Kiwi beer that we live on. At least we'll have something in common to talk about.

Did you know that there are country dancing lessons every week the night before cookie day? I did. I attended. I technically now know how to two step. While my rug cutting skills are still exceptionally limited, I must advise that all the ladies out there to beware of my moves out there. As irresistible as my new found skills are, collisions are still about as likely as a racket ball with a wall.

So I had my Kelly day this week. It happened to fall on the day after cookie day, actually. I did little of real interest. I did manage to work in several literary references into conversation this week, something that led to boggled looks from fellow firefighters (not often known as renown literary critics). Me citing literary references is not something that I ever expected to be doing again. High school is over. The books I read these days are technical manuals on things with wings or water. Using Oedipus Rex poke fun at a comment someone made isn't my norm anymore.

Making fun of people wasn't the only thing that I did over my Kelly day. I did manage to give back to the community. I washed pots and pans. Lots of them. More than I ever really expected to see. It wasn't really such a bad time. The dining attendants have been stretched thin lately, and needed a hand. Myself and several other firefighters worked ourselves into a dishpan hand induced frenzy for about two hours helping them keep on track.

It's fairly interesting actually working in the back of the galley. Not that the pot room is where the magic happens, but right outside of it is where burgers that died in 2005 and other sundry expired food stuffs are turned into what actually results to be a typically very tasty meal.

So it's getting late here. The sun is still circling overhead, leaving the body confused and far more alert than it should be. A glance outside gives me a view of the mountains. They still take my breath away whenever I get a clear view of them. There is something special about this place. Combine it with the people here, the things we do, the dreams and aspirations that everyone has, and it doesn't even seem like it could be real at times. It is though. It's just as real as the leaves turning back home. The sound of a fast bike with a daring rider. Just some of the things I can't really forget.