The big three... oh, crap I'm old

So last week I got old. I wasn't before. But now I am. This apparently is what happens when you turn 30.

But as most of you know, being 30 has its privileges. You get a lot of nice emails (thank you all)... reassuring you that death is just around the corner (screw you all). And you get to boss people around in a way that would have been considered highly uncouth only a year before.

But in general, I feel the same. Except maybe happier since I got to spend some qt with Lauren and a few of my buddies who we affectionately call "site rats" for the fact that they haven't been spotted since swear-in with the ambassador, May 2008.

For my actual bday, I celebrated 30ness with Lauren. She'd organized a few surprises, including a few days of rest and relaxation at a luxury hotel at the beach (think infinity pool, waterfalls, free breakfast - woohoo!).

And afterwards, like Hugh Hefner at the Friar's Club, I took my hits in the emotional spanking line and chilled with my buddies up in the mountains near my site, celebrating life one last time... before I apparently drop dead of a heart attack. Oh it's easy to be funny when you're only 25 punks!

We had a great time and they came from far just to remind me life is short. But besides presenting me with a bottle of Bombay Sapphire, they gave me something I needed - a few kickass days of testosterone with my boys, some chill time with my brothers in arms. Reminiscent of Martinifest a few years back, we grilled steaks and toasted the good life, something we began to affectionately call "Cocktoberfest".

Sidenote on the Bombay: only a handful of times in this country have I been blessed by the juniper gods to find myself not only in a decent establishment with actual gin on hand, but the cash in my pocket to buy it. (You'd think with all the malaria epidemics this country has gone through, they'd be a little more into the tonic water.) And twice I've had to teach the bartender how to make a passable gin and tonic. Picture the fancy-pants waiter, nodding yes as I order, but slightly cocking his head to the side the way my dog does whenever he sees me do a handstand, and then coming back two minutes later with a bottle of cheap vodka and some fresca.

I see it as a sustainable project. Salvos have taught me so much in my time down here - how to harvest corn and beans, how to net fish with canoes, how to kill and eat pretty much any animal with a heartbeat - the least I can do is help them make a decent G & T.

Anyway, here are a few shots from Cocktoberfest, the ones which could be considered safe for public consumption.



Chris taking it easy



The dark side of Andy. Just kidding, Andy doesn't have a dark side. Love hangin out with this guy. He was the manager of a grilled cheese restaurant back in Iowa before he came down here. A grilled cheeeeeeese restaurant! Nuf said.



I'd give my right arm to throw a spiral like Hoop. Oh crap. I didn't think that through



Chillin with my homies.



Our buddy Rich used to be a chef, and proved it later on behind the grill. His sister's the personal chef for... watch your toes, Gabe's name dropping... Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes, so I guess it runs in the family. He grilled up some amazing steaks.



And the next day. Breakfast of champions. Nobody remembers the night before. We just woke up here eating breakfast.



Brother Will (before)



Brother Joe



Brother Brad



Brother Will (after the freight train of the previous night started to hit him)



This photo of Andy kind of sums up life on the mountain...



All in all, 30 ain't so bad. Thanks for all the calls and emails. Big hugs to everyone up north.