But here's reality: for lunch, we have been having fresh kiwi, raspberries, and cantaloupe. Today we had borscht soup, Swedish meatballs, vegetable tofu. For dinner, there was a special celebration of 30 days in a row with no injuries, and we had king crab legs, spaghetti, pork loin, and chicken breast. We have fresh salad, several dessert choices, and fresh breads every night. This is not a hardship. Should I complain that the bus trip to work is 45 minutes? Should I complain that I have a roommate? That the shade on my window is not dark enough? That there is not enough bandwidth to watch Hulu? Puh-lease! This place gets nicer every time I visit. It's like going to a spa.
So I feel guilty that life is good here. I feel like I should be telling you all this in a confessional booth and getting absolution for living so well in such a far away place. I am surrounded by memorials for people who died here as they crossed the ice. Heck, Williams Field, one of the air strips on the Ice, is named for a Navy sailor who drowned when his tractor fell through the ice. His body is still at the bottom of the bay. And here I am, waltzing around in my slippers.
Tonight was very pleasant. I went to a mini-concert by one of the dining assistants (who visited our experiment last week) in the coffee bar. I really felt a sense of community there. It was easy to strike up a conversation with the geologist sharing my table. Everyone was really enthusiastic and supportive about the fiddling. Folks insisted that he pass around a hat for donations.
|Colin fiddling in the coffee house.|