About Paul

Paul, Paolo, "honey," "bubba," "Deuce," Arandia; a man with many names and perhaps a few identities, as well. Your typical superhero. Paul was born in a hospital, that has since turned into a parking lot, in the great state of Delaware. He is the first child of Leon and Ariel Arandia and older brother of Kim. At an early age Paul became fascinated with Michael Jackson, Tasty Cakes, cartoons, comics and Pop culture. It was obvious from the beginning that Paul had an intense curiosity about the world and a knack for solving problems. In 1988, he created the A&S Detective Agency. Later on, his interest in mysteries did not subside, but rather became incorporated in his interest in film; as did kung fu. In the early 90’s, he produced his first movie, in which he also starred, entitled "Chinwa v. Tabatchoy." First screened at 8 Needleleaf Drive Basement Theatre it was a hit, but didn't make it out of the development. A cult classic.

Paul attended New Castle Baptist Academy, where he made dreamy eyes at future Hollywood star and also NCBA graduate, Ryan Phillippe, from across the lunch room. I mean, he kicked his ass on the playground. After winning all of the "You're the Smartest Kid in Class" awards in elementary school, Leon and Ariel decided to send Paul to the small private high school, Tatnall.

Being the new kid in school at Tatnall, Paul had to meet new friends. He soon buddied-up with others that were just as devoted to academic pursuits as he, and not only did they encourage him to be on the debate team and to participate in the Academic Bowl, but they also cheered him on from the sidelines as he ran-in touchdowns, and leaped over hurdles. He was like a brilliant gazelle.

Post graduation, Leon, Ariel, Kim and Paul schlepped his duffle bags, mini fridge, trunk of snacks, sheets, towels and toys a few hours north to Swarthmore College. There, he once again managed to meet a group of great friends who encouraged him to join the Lacrosse team, become a resident assistant, steal a bagel cart, paint his nails black and major in psychology. It was at orientation when Jeffrey Levine made his first impressions on our Paul. Perhaps not from the very start, but soon thereafter, they were like PB and J. Let's be honest, Jeff would be writing this story if rather than being a 5'8" man of great intellectual prowess he was a 5'8" chick who liked ice cream. Four well spent years and a few ups and downs later, Paul graduated and moved to Boston in 2000.

Paul moved into his first apartment in Boston and stayed there for NINE years. The man doesn't like moving. But also didn't have a good reason to, until he decided he would prefer only having one lifelong roommate who would do his laundry. Paul is a very smart guy; an amazing trivia partner. He is also very well-rounded, open-minded, patient, goofy, kind, creative and hilarious. Paul is always fun to be around and he loves helping people, but he also likes to entertain, travel, acquire gadgets, eat ice cream, sing karaoke and interior decorate.

He is currently a clinical social worker at Children's hospital, a slow-pitch softball player, my interior designer, fashion consultant, editor, cook and future husband. I'm a very lucky lady to be a part of his life.

The Reasons Why

I guess it's been a while, eh? No one reads this other than Deuce and I, so, I'm just going to pretend that this isn't available for the whole internet to see as I recall what the hell we've been up to since mid August.

First off, there was the trip to Saipan that Deuce made to come visit me. Actually, it was more like he came to pick me up on the other side of the planet so we could go home. We spent seven glorious days romping around the small island; two days flying around the world back to Boston; and three days falling asleep at 7pm, waking at 5am and completing an entire weekend's worth of errands before noon. That hasn't happened since and won't happen again until we're 70.

The weekend we returned from Saipan one of my college buddies, Gerb, got married to his high school sweet heart, and another college friend, J. They were married in a beautiful Catholic church in Portland, ME. It was a great chance to catch up with good friends, explore Portland for the first time, eat too much food, and do one too many car bombs.

It was an excellent way to end our two week vacation. I felt so refreshed to get back to work and school and then I got back into my old work and school routine and that jolliness - that high from time off- lasted about two weeks. I feel like it was forever ago at this point, and now realize how important it is to take a substantial amount of time off to catch up with yourself and your loved ones and to also explore new places and do some laundry. I'm going to make an effort to take a break like that every year- time and money permitting.

So, we hit the ground running. I've had classes, work, and applications to do. Deuce has been ridiculously busy saving the young and pregnant and almost every weekend we've gone away.

In mid-September, my grandparents celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary. Wow, we all thought. 50 years is a long time, but for two people who by definition "got along," but in practice perhaps were not always speaking or living together, 50 years is one hell of an achievement. It's an achievement for any couple, and I know we all have our ups and downs, so it was a great opportunity to speak honestly about the joyous and not so fun times they've gone through as a couple and to celebrate the hard work and love they've poured into eachother over the years.

It was also an opportunity for my aunt and grandmother to corner me and my brother's girlfriend to discuss "family traditions" that they'd like to begin. Like, wearing my great grandmother's jewelry on our wedding days. "No pressure, but..."Awkward. Marriage has been a big theme over the last year, and attending weddings has become a part-time job for Deuce and I. We've attended several weddings together in our 2.5 years together and have at least five to go to in the next year. We've got it down to an art.

Since PA, we've gone to NYC to see a friend premiere his documentary at a film festival (which he won!); Deleware for a friend's wedding; and Maryland to visit my sister and father. We've been busy, and blog-wise...uninspired. We were talking intensely about politics and now just want to vote for Christ's sake. We've been celebrating birthdays and apple picking, studying and baking, planning and traveling. It's been great. (I say that, but I've also spent plenty of moments wallowing in my own stressed-out self pitty. This fall has had its moments.)

This weekend it's time to get together with local friends, make some good food, and maybe bake a giant cupcake! In the next few weeks we're heading to upstate NY for Thanksgiving and NYC to celebrate Deuce's mother's bday, which happens to be the same day as mine, Hillary Clinton's and Barack Obama's grandmother. HOLLAH.

We'll chat soon. Peace.

Ambivalent Softball

A few summers ago, I started playing softball. I got into it through the crew I play pickup touch football with on the weekends who played IM slow-pitch softball through BU in the summertime. The BU Intramural league is great because it's competitive, but pretty relaxed. It's a 10 game season with players of varied skill. Not ever having played organized bat/ball sports (mostly because I had always hated it) this was a perfect introduction. My team basked in the fact that we were pretty bad and the self-effacing humor helped cut any tension. While I always hated when I muffed a play, I never felt like the guys got on my case.

Five years later, I still play with those guys and we ended up making a few playoff runs culminating in a pennant win in '05. I've gotten a little better every year and I feel I can play at a mediocre level. This year I joined a work team that plays in a league with other community teams. These guys are significantly more serious about their softball, making a big difference in the team atmosphere. It's very different for me in many ways. First, it's modified fast pitch so instead of slow arching training softballs, I'm swinging at regular softballs rocketing at me at a decent speed. Not to mention that some pitchers have junk to throw, so I see curves, knuckles, and change ups. Secondly, I'm wearing a cup. I'm thinking I want to have kids some day, so gotta protect the junk. I rarely wore a cup in the past, even when I played football in high school and lacrosse in college. I think I was just lucky all those years. Anyway, playing with a cup affects my mobility. I think it's cause my thighs are big and rub together at the crotch anyway. The cup just gives me one more thing to chafe with.

But, really that stuff I've gotten used to. It's the other things that have made this season so much more onerous. I think it's all just part of the game though that as an inexperienced player, I missed out on. I found our team's mission statement while cleaning up after a game, here's a few choice passages.

1) Take the game very serious. This is a community softball league, and scouts could come by to assess our talent. In the last 10 years since leaving high school, your skills have probably increased exponentially, so you could probably quit your day job and head to the Big Show.

2)One way to prove you are ready for the Show is to really get on your teammates when they drop a fly ball or let a grounder get past them. Getting angry and yelling, "Come On!" is an excellent way to motivate someone to get better and very constructive criticism. "I told you to ..." is also a good way to show your coaching ability. It helps if you have other teammates to yell out contradicting instructions to help the player stay focused.

4) Play at least 3 games a week. The more games you play, the more likely it is that your teammates will start cutting out other parts of their lives that would interfere with softball. When they are completely socially isolated, they can feed of the emotional support of their teammate's constructive criticism.

5) Speak in as many different languages as possible to show your commitment to diversity. This is particularly helpful if you are talking about benching a guy who looks Asian and probably didn't take 5 years of Spanish in high school.

So basically, I am at the point where I can't wait for the season to end. I was praying we'd lose last night and get knocked out of the playoffs. Ironically, we pulled off a huge comeback victory after being down 8-0 capped by a 2 RBI single by the only kid who is probably worse than I am. This kid has gotten more grief than anyone, but shows up to play almost every game and came through in the clutch. It felt really good to congratulate him.

For the chance for one more magical moment like that, I'm willing to play one more game.

Tinian

I had an adventurous weekend to say the least. Friday night, we went snorkeling on Pau Pau beach on Saipan; happy hour at the Hyatt with some docs, and then we went to go get a car at the hospital- couldn't find it- got "security" (a dude in a polo shirt without a flashlight - it's dark at 7 here) to help us out- found it- went to dinner, then out to Godfathers for some people watching, and then crashed. Saturday, we were supposed to go on a hike to forbidden island. It's apparently steep and treacherous when slippery, and it rained, so we didn't go, but were basically swept away to a howley (sp? aka "white people") restaurant Wild Bills for a few hours of bullshitting. Afterwards, Miss M and I decided to go kayaking to Managaha (another really small island off of Saipan. about 1.5 miles away). It was the most beautiful and nauseating thing I've done in Saipan so far. Definitely sea sick, I puked on the way back. Three times. Seriously, as soon as I could get out of the boat, I flung onto all fours and heaved. But we got a mango smoothy, went out for Indian and crashed again knowing that we had plans to go to Tinian (another island of the CNMI, about 23 miles south of Saipan) in the AM.

We were supposed to meet up with another doc, and her husband to take the ferry to Tinian at 9:30. We were running late since the ATM near their house wasn't working, and they ran down to the car so we could speed off to the port. We got there, and Doc N didn't have an ID so we couldn't get on the boat. Her husband raced home to grab her id as they held the boat, and when he came back, they looked at it, and it was expired, so she couldn't get on anyway. They were pulling, "I'm a doctor at the hospital" kind of strings and cards, and the ferry folks wouldn't have it (I don't blame them). So, instead, we took the plane, which is faster, but twice as expensive. They brought their 10 year old son.

We got to the airport, and signed in. You don't need an ID to fly to Tinian. We waited and the pilot finally showed and we hopped into a 7 passenger plane. I sat up by the pilot. It was very cool. It's only a ten minute flight, which is enough for me to get my kicks, but it's quite beautiful up there. I took lots of pics and will put them up soon.

Sorry this is turning into a novel, but it gets better. We land, and the hospital there knew we were coming and because Docs from Saipan visit them every couple of months we were hooked up with a car. We took a tour of the hospital, which was so small and quiet and doing it's best, and then went to lunch at, I think, one of three places on island to eat. The mahi was good, and afterwards we decided to go get scooters.

Miss M and I are virgin scooter drivers/ riders but we were game and were assigned our own scooter. She drove. I took pics. We headed all the way up to the other end of the island, towards where they stored the two Atom Bombs dropped on Japan in WWII. Miss M and I took a corner a little quickly and wiped out. My first concern was her, then my camera hanging around my neck. I landed right on top of her, scraped my chin, hand and knee, and snapped my head back, but the camera was fine! I'm ok too, nothing other than scrapes, and having three docs on hand made things a little easier. It was really kind of hilarious. We continued on, saw the pits (it's cool and weird) and headed back to the scooter place so we could get the car, go to the hospital to clean our wounds (you can end up with some nasty shit here) and then to the beach. Funny thing is, it POURED on us on the way back. We were soaked and there was no where to find shelter until we weren't too far away from the scooter place. Nice thing is, that it never rains for too long here. We saddled up (I road with Florian after our spill) and returned our rides. We were a scooter gang.

We invaded the hospital ER, went to the beach to snorkel (rough, salty water, and ok sites to see, but a storm was coming it in making the water choppy and murky). We decided to head back to the plane to go home. By the time we arrived at the airport, about 30 ppl werewaiting to fly back to Saipan. It's a 7 passenger plane. We were told it would take 2 hours before we could leave, so we went to the Dyansty Hotel, which is a giant, marble-coated casino in the middle of Tinian. It makes no sense. It's ornate, elaborately staffed and decorated and empty. We had some dinner, and headed back to the airport, where we waited for another 40 minutes before they told us that there were no more flights or ferries leaving for Saipan that night. Sweet. Basically prepared with what we needed for the day, and having run into so many strange and funny moments already, we got back in the car and went back to the Dynasty to get two rooms for the night.

It was quite nice, $100 and as soon as we got into our room, I showered, put on a robe and ordered an ice cream sundae. An ice cream sundae, a 5:30 am wake up call (we were told to return at 6 am), bandaids, vaseline, ice, lotion, a club sandwich with fries, a fruit platter and gauze. All for $28. I think they were just excited to have someone staying there.

By 6am we were in the airport and waiting to see if we could get on the first flight- we were all set, hopped in and back home by 7:30. We flew home to change and to get to work, where I changed my bandages. I'm exhausted and useless at the moment. It was a hell of a weekend. I hope yours was a blast, too!

Sea Kay-Yacking

This weekend is my friend's last in Saipan. We've been here for four weekends together and every Saturday that we've made plans to hike up to Forbidden Island, the Grotto, etc, it's rained. We're not afraid of melting, but of slipping off lava rock or coral in the jungle, which deters us from treading into the boonies. So, as expected we had arranged to have a friend with a large 4x4 truck to bring us out to Forbidden Island this morning and the instant he picked us up, it poured. He bailed out as our tour guide and took us to Wild Bills instead. After a few hours of bullshitting, the rain ended and Miss M and I decided to go kayaking to Managaha.

Kayaking to Managaha, a small island just off the coast of Saipan, has been on our To-Do List, so we were excited to check it out. We rented a sea kayak for two from the Hyatt ($35 for four hours) and headed out to the island. Having grown up on a lake, I've been kayaking for some time now. I thought this would be just like home, right? Get in, hold on tight with the right hand, let the oar slide through the left, 45 degree angle into the water and straight on til morning. Funny thing is, this was the ocean. Before we departed the vendor said, "Nice day to go to Managaha- calm water." Duly noted and appreciated. We slid into the water and with the heave-ho of a kindly fisherman, we were off. Me in the back, Miss M in the front and Managaha straight ahead.

I should have thought more about this adventure before we took off, if for nothing more than mental preparation, but I didn't. Yesterday afternoon, should have been my first warning. We went to Pau Pau beach for some snorkeling, and again, a water bug since a young age and never having a fear of water, I was surprisingly jolted by the turd-like sea cucumbers covering the ocean floor. I was assured at Pau Pau that I truly am a fresh-water kind of girl. The small threat of stepping on coral or animals, or being attacked by a shark was enough to keep my ass on shore for 20 minutes before venturing in; scoping out the action from above the water as friends happily snorkeled around and would surface routinely to point out the giant eel they just saw or the fish at their feet. Where I come from you can't see the shit swimming above or below you, and man and animal live happily oblivious to each other's existence, knowing that neither is a threat to the other. Here, not so much and damn sea cucumbers are nasty. Like I said, fresh water lady right here. Anyway, sea kayaking, was certainly a reassurance of this.

So, Managaha may be oh, I don't know 2 miles from Saipan? We were told to plan an hour of kayaking each way. We hopped right in, headed out, and having never ridden in a two man kayak, it took me a second to get the hang of it and another minute to hide-away the control freak in me, and follow Miss M, in the front. About halfway to Managaha speed boats started cruising by our little kayak and wrecking up large, rolling waves. At first, I thought, this would be a blast to go over in a jet ski! Then, our speed and direction were compromised by the large waves and my stomach began to slosh. Deuce can attest to the pathetic, inconsolable nature of a Nauseous Ans. It's not pretty and it's not fun to be with. It involves a lot of moaning and "Oh shit, I think I'm going to puke!"s. Poor Miss M. She's a trooper and she counseled my motion sick, useless ass to the island. I tried to help. I'd paddle, get ill, try to persevere and then just moan. With a lot of determination we crossed the waves kicked up by parasailing and diving boats and paddled as hard as we could against the rocky current. We hit shore on the eastern side of Managaha, and before Miss M could even touch the ocean floor she instructed me to just get the hell out of the boat. I didn't need to be told twice, and I plunged in, tore off my life vest and wet clothes and laid on the beach.

It wasn't even sunny out, folks. It was not the heat, I'm just a total pansy. Kayaking on a lake, is not like kayaking on the ocean. I get nauseous running on a treadmill for God's sake. I should have known. I recovered on the beach as Miss M circumnavigated the island in search for a snack shack. She returned shortly with a diet coke. Even at this point, I knew I owed her so much more than a coke. After a few minutes I felt fine, and we decided to move to the other side of the island, which was much calmer and swarming with at least 200 Korean tourists. Miss M took the kayak, and I walked.

Managaha is a small island with a bathroom, spray paint tattoo place, a gear rental booth and a snack shack. It's all about the water. The snorkeling in Pau Pau was NOTHING compared to Managaha. It was great. Beautiful, colorful fish swarming around you (sometimes a little too close) almost as if they were ready to be fed, which is probably the case since they encourage you to bring cooked rice with you to attract the fish. There's no need for bait; these fish were all about checking out the humans. It was a lot of fun, but a little freaky at first. By the end of the day we were swimming along with schools of fish.

By four, we had to head back and I thought we'd grab a snack before taking off, but I guess we missed the announcement that the shack was closing up for the night since all of the announcements were in Korean. So, low on food, tired from the sun and not too pumped to get back in to the kayak, I strapped on my life vest and pushed us off shore.

This time, I knew what was coming and I tried to think past the rocking waves knocking on the boat, and to focus on the horizon or the island, but it just didn't work. It was definitely a quicker trip heading back, and this time I sat up front, but it made no difference. Miss M was a freaking rock star, told me to stop paddling, she'd get us back, and to just relax. That's when it got real bad. So bad that I reverted back to soothing techniques that I did as a child when sick; squinting, tilting my head, rubbing my tongue on the top of my mouth (weird, I know, but it works); however, this is usually a bad sign with me. I knew I was going to puke. I announced this (probably several times) and Miss M pushed through, and talked to me about random things in an attempt to get my mind off the slapping of waves from all sides. Seeing that I was hopeless and basically dead weight in her boat, she offered to dump me at the nearest shore line and to come pick me up in the car. I couldn't even speak. I just nodded, focused ahead and tried to keep breakfast down.

We got to shore at American Memorial Park, which butts right up to the Hyatt beach, and I fell dramatically onto all fours, heaved, shook (literally, shaking) and tossed my cookies. Not once, not twice, but three times. There have been only a couple more times in my life when I have succumbed to a pathetic state of vomit and needed someone to just take care of my shit for me. This afternoon was one of those moments. As I huffed, and puffed and blew the chunks out, Miss M collected my water, towel and sandals, placed them neatly on the beach (up beach from my vomit and at least three feet away) and said she'd be back as soon as possible. As always, I felt 100% better after my upchucking antics and offered to walk along the beach as she paddled and to meet her at the Hyatt. It worked out beautifully, and I watched my dear friend paddle a two man boat the rest of the way, by herself. We met at the beach, the vendor met up with us, saw that I was walking and asked if I had swum in. Hell No, dude. I was just puking about 700 yards north and walked back here.

It was an embarrassing, beautiful and humbling day. I will not be repeating that trip by kayak, again with Deuce. Tomorrow, we head to Tinian. We're taking the boat (or as a friend kindly referred to it, the "vomit comet"- awesome!) over and a plane back. Miss M is also Doc M and she's hooked me up with some motion-sickness pills. Let's cross our fingers and hope we don't have a repeat performance tomorrow. I'll keep you posted, but for the time being, here's a one of my favorite pics from Saipan.

Saipan Eats

Thai House: $12 for an ok meal. The owner has two small dogs that are pretty cute, but are sometimes put on the bar top to be adored. A little too close to food and drink for me, but that's the public healther in me. Typical stuff here.

Bobby Cadillacs: Excellent pizza. Has ice cream, and a great deal; if you order 1 large pizza you can get a free medium sized pie with one topping. Even better...you can take a rain check on your medium and come back another time to claim your pie!

Yellow Mango: next door to BC's. GREAT, fresh fruit smoothies and good ice cream. Mango Strawberry is awesome and they blend it well enough that you don't have ice chunks sitting on the bottom of your drink.

Expressions: Excellent cheese and chocolate options. The owner is wonderfully sweet.

Himawari: Best kept secret in Saipan. AWESOME sushi deals, and a bakery. In my heaven, this is one of the food court options.

Len: Great Japanese food. Cool atmosphere. Great rice balls and curry soup.

Big Dipper: Deluxe Sundae for $3.75: two scoops, one syrup and one topping, but comes with a cookie, cherry and whipped cream regardless. Rocky Road and Moose Tracks? Yes, please.

Wild Bills: Great pancakes.

The Veggie Vendor next to 99cent on Middle Road: the nicest people and great produce for dirt cheap! I don't care if my racist landlady says they poop on their produce. Cows? People? We eat meat so maybe it's a little grosser, but that's why you wash it. Haven't gotten sick yet. (knock on wood)

Sushi Land: Good deals on sushi that's not half bad itself.

Hyatt: Sticky bun sauce, meat and sushi!

Fiesta: Cheaper, fresh berries, plain veggies, and cream puffs!

Hamilton's: Sunday night trivia, Monday night $1 sliders, Tuesday night $1 tacos. What else could you ask for?

Saturday morning market: Great corn soup at one vendor. Could cut back on the corn starch a tad, but pretty tasty. Not so tasty? The banana bread with MSG. I prefer if it tasted like my mom's and had chocolate chunks, rather than taste like miso soup.

Thursday night street market: The dudes at the far end, away from Fiesta- awesome yakitori (spicy chicken on a stick is my favorite so far) and apigigi (?)- the cocount. I don't care if they serve "chikn with rices" or if they "take foodstamp," it's good shit. Kasava cake- pretty good; the "Chicken burger," was questionable.

Best deal in town: the CHC cafeteria. Free for me, but cheap as hell for everyone! Good adobo and fresh fruit, and the nicest staff ever!

Yet to try:
360 Restaurant, Palms brunch, Oleai, Coffee Care, and so many more options. People of Saipan, share your favorite places to get (preferably cheap) eats!

Reading through the boring first half is worth it

"Island time," is a phrase that was used often before I left for Saipan. Everyone told me, the punctual, scheduled and routine me, to prepare myself for "island time." No problem. So far, island time has meant long lunch hours, short work days, and weeks that fly by. The sun sets here around 7, which is almost 2 hours earlier than what I'm used to back home; and after work there are either a million things to do or nothing. Being here for only a few weeks gives me reason to try to fill every waking hour with some activity. Lately, I've had to institute my own island time, and selectively choose what my next adventure will be.

Last week was week two of my practicum, which by the way, is going great. I work with a great pediatrician who is funny as shit and has two little boys who run around naked, eat dessert with no hands and tickle your ankles under the brunch table. I've been productive, so hopefully, by the time Deuce gets here we'll have enough free time to tour Saipan together. Anyway, last week, I set the Hash with a friend from here. It was a blast! We cut through land (with permission) up on the north end of the island, between Banzai and Suicide cliffs. The trail continued up a trail that goes from the base of Suicide (the Last Command Post) straight up to the top of Suicide. It was awesome. We spent several hours cutting the trail, and I mostly followed behind Dan (or "Tonsil Tickler" in the Hash world) as he hacked away at jungle with a machete. By the time it was all said and done, we had a great Religion, at which I was named. One week an FNG the next a virgin hare, and now named. Not bad.

On Friday, a friend, who is also working at the CHC, and I went to one of the Pediatricians' home for some Thai food (made by her Thai maid) and a dip in the Anaks swimming pool under the stars. It was great. Good food, great people, and more connections here in Saipan.

Saturday was consumed by the hash; spreading flour on the trail, more machete-ing, dodging runners in order to keep my pants on, etc. But, on Sunday, we ventured to the Fiesta for brunch. The last two weeks we've gone to the Hyatt and spent $33 each on an all you can eat buffet that makes my insides tingle (and cramp with delicious gluttony). Fiesta was great, cheaper, and we went with other friends from the hospital. Our original plans were to go to Forbidden Island for a hike afterwards, but torrential down pours ushered us to the movies instead. Mama Mia! a total cornball, chick flick that is so bad it's great. For $5 I'll go watch anything, and I would say it was worth my five.

It's already the beginning of week three, and I just can't believe it. Deuce will be here in two weeks from today! I'm excited to introduce him to the many people I have met, and the crazy, wondrous place that is Saipan.

Last night, we went to Joeten in Susupe to check out the deals and the monstrosity of a store. It's right next to Athlete's Foot, which to me, just doesn't sound like the next place I want to buy a pair of socks or shoes; and it in fact engulfs the Athlete's Foot, as they are both owned by JoeTen. I have to say I was a bit disappointed, until I saw the souvenirs! OH the souvenirs! Now, picture the most tacky picture frames, key chains, post cards, and paper weights you can imagine, plus a bit of lewdness and hilariousness, and you get this:

ASS MAGNETS

Go ahead, get a closer look. What? Yes, that would be a sea turtle swimming into the crevice. Beautiful. I didn't buy one, but I may have to go back before I leave to pick up one for someone special. Maybe my grandma.

Week two involved lots of hiking in Marpi, late night runs on the beach, flour up to my elbows, and eating. Week three has begun with Ass Magnets and a Deluxe Moose Tracks Sundae for $3.75 at the Big Dipper. Saipan is only getting better!

Don't Hate the Playa, Hate the Game

Better get all my gaming in while Ans is away. Probably shouldn't have bought that PS3 last weekend:

Hit the link for a humorous follow up:
http://kotaku.com/5032598/chances-of-having-sex-gaming-graph

I Love The Way She Calls Me "Baby"

During the trip home to Boston from my parents house in Delaware, I continued my project to listen to all of the music in my iPod, alphabetically by title. I started in March. It is now August and I'm at the end of the W's (My daily commute is only 15minutes each way, but I've also done several multi-hour trips). Anyway, I heard "Way I Am" by Ingrid Michaelson (Warning: Clowns!) and I got a little teary-eyed.

I could pretend that I had something in my contact or I was really tired from the 8 hours of driving in congested traffic or still recovering from a sweet RockBand hangover, but the truth is Ans loves this song and it made me think of her. Then I imagined us dancing to it at our wedding and that made me even more happy.

Not long after that I heard "We're All in This Together" from High School Musical and then I imagined us dancing to this as well. Choreographed. and that made me wet myself with terror.

Oh Canada!

With Ans on the other side of the world, I have to find ways of amusing myself that does not involve video games. This past weekend, I visited our Neighbor to the North. Every year or so, one of my college friends invites a bunch of people to her lake house in Ontario, Canada. Actually, "lake house" is a misnomer as it really is an entire island stocked with everything you would need to "rough it" comfortably. There's very little tech on the island, except for a satellite dish for TV that never really gets watched so you have the luxury of being cut off from the fast lane and are free to spend that time stuffing your face and getting drunk. That said, here is a list of things that are quintessential to an Island Visit:

• Chop wood- This is usually one of the first things I do on the island. I don't know what it is about swinging an axe and splitting a log in twain that is so freakin' satisfying, but it's addictive. We had a mini-Lumberjack Games this weekend that included events like: "Throw An Axe into a Log" and "Split that Log" a "Name that Tune" kind of game where you wagered how many strokes it would take for you to "Split that Log." I could have done this all weekend. It's about getting in touch with my inner woodsman. And making numerous bad 'log' and 'wood' puns.
  
• Fire- This naturally goes with the woodchopping. This trip I spent a lot of time making fire and taking pictures of fire while it rained one afternoon. I'm a bit of a pyro, I guess. I suppose I didn't get to burn enough things when I was younger. Plus I love toasted marshmallows. Fire also adds new dimensions to the adolescent puns as 'hot' and 'burning' are added to the repertoire.
  
• Strategy Board Games That Last Forever-Risk and Monopoly is for wussies. We play games I had never heard of before, like Aquire and Settlers of Catan. These are not games for the feeble-minded and weak-willed. We played a rousing game of Settlers during a storm this weekend, which I kicked ass in by the way. For those who don't know, the game revolves around exploration, development and managing resources like wood, ore, and sheep. Thus, there were many opportunities for "who's got wood?," "give me your dirty ores," and various sheep/shit jokes.
  
• Water Sports- I'm talking about lake activities, not getting pissed on. Being on an island with all sorts of boats gives us the chance to sail or kayak around. They also have a speedboat that can be used to go water skiing, or in my case, pull your groin and make you inhale water while being dragged at 30 miles an hour. One day I will stand up, I fucking swear.
• Jump off a big rock- Usually I'll kayak to Rock Island which is this giant boulder in the middle of the lake. There's a spot that's about 20 feet or so from the water's surface where you can take a running jump off of. I have jumped about 10 times over the course of 3 or 4 visits, but every time it scares the bejesus out of me. I didn't do it this time because of a bum ankle, but I'm sure the next time I try, I will be perched at the top, peering down, and crying.
• Girls on Trampolines- when I'm too much of a wuss to go to the rock, I can always hang out on the floating trampoline near the shore. It's a great place to sun or play dumb games like King of the Mountain and Diving Frisbee catch. Plus, girls on trampolines!
• Outdoor shower- just something about being naked outside is cool. Unless it's really cold. You know, shrinkage.
• Ankle Biters- Canadian mosquitoes are huge. I swear they have antlers. Not a good thing, but a part of the experience. Also a drawback to being naked outside.
• Stuffing of the Face- Next time I will do some calculations. (Weight before trip - weight after trip) / days on island = YOU ARE FAT
  
• Cheese Curd- It's cheese that I have only seen in southern Ontario. It is good and it squeaks when you eat it.
  
• Cheesy bread egg in a hole- Invented by Ans and I during our last trip. Cheesy bread is another heavenly concoction that is essentially a round pastry with melted cheddar. The only way to make this better is to cut a whole in the middle and fry and egg in it. Freakin' brilliant.
• Getting drunk off some new cocktail- I don't even remember what we came up with in previous trips, but this year we had Grown-Up Sodas and Grown-Up Chocolate Milk.
  
• Seven Hour Drive of MA and NY- Sometimes it's good, sometimes its bad. Ans and I got into our first fight on the way up to Canada last trip. This time, I saw two cows get freaky on the side of the road. Nice.
  

Hash, God and Geckos

Last Saturday I participated in my first "Hash." It's a running/ walking trail marked with flour, that changes every week. The trail usually cuts through the jungle, passing by beautiful or unusual landmarks (like a hidden temple) and ends at a picturesque place where a bonfire and plenty of beer await. Last weekend was my first Hash, and I have been told it was a bit rough. It was a moonlight Hash, which is supposed to celebrate the full moon. This particular Hash meant starting at dusk in Kagman, plowing through the jungle in the dark for 3 hours and finally winding up and around cow pastures and beach roads to finally end atop a cliff. The Hash was a bit much. I was immediately filthy and sweaty, which was fine. It was the no-flash-light, stumbling through the woods completely blind, clueless to where I was going and falling into the water that kind of got to me. It just seemed stupid. I could picture something disastrous happening out in the jungle- slipping into a ravine, breaking a leg, being attacked by a three headed puma guarding her cubs, or a snake.

That sort of shit would happen to me, and I'd be pissed. I was fine, scratched up bruised, tired and hungry, but I was still pissed. By the time we reached "Religion," the after Hash soiree, I was not in the mood to do anything but dress my wounds and shower. All they could offer was a water bottle and a turkey burger. It did the trick. Religion is a frat party, hosted by the brain trust of Saipan. All of the "FNGs" (the "new guys") are brought up to the front of the crowd, asked questions and told to chug a beer out of a BED PAN. Oh, sorry, let me clairfy, it is the "Sacred Vessel." My bad. It's a bunch of hoorah and silly, rude jokes. It was a good way to end the night and I'm glad I stayed.

I got home that night and showered twice. I borrowed shoes and I feel terrible returning them, but they were designated as "Hash shoes" before I wore them. They are stiff, filthy and I'm afraid to touch them.

This weekend I was thinking about Hashing again, even though I spent most of the week completely distraught over my first experience. I know so many people from the Hash now, and it was a great social networking experience. Tonight, I unfortunately cannot participate because I have agreed to do church and dinner with my landlords. I was raised Catholic, but haven't to church in...oh, a little while, so it should be interesting. Last night, I also had dinner with two priests and my landlords. I think I'm getting all my God in, in one weekend. It's all good.

I'm pretty tired, and I'm hoping that tomorrow I'll get to hike around, be outside and get to bed early. I didn't sleep much last night because I was startled out of my skin by Heiney (the gecko) who has either become MONSTROUS (bigger than my hand) or who's mum has come out to play. We scared the shit out of each other and I shooed Heiney out of my room. I haven't seen him yet (and now I probably will), but I'm hoping that he stays out of sight. He was cute when small, but he's just a bit too big and too quick for my liking now. He can eat bugs and still hide. I'd be good with that.

So, all is well in the CNMI. I'm already craving a Northeast fall, but I'm happy to be here and I'm having fun- as long as the geckos stay away.

Week One

I have a gecko. He's small and newt-like. He lives behind my shower head at the moment. Everyone else on island has a resident gecko, and now I do, too. I hope to watch him grow (not too much larger) and I think I'll name him Charlie, or Timothy. Maybe Heinrich. My gecko could be female, but the way he was checking me out in the shower makes me think otherwise, plus, how many chicks would hide in the shower to introduce themselves to another lady?

I've been in Saipan for over a week now. I arrived late last Thursday night. My flight here was actually, not bad at all. Every flight went smoothly; 4 hours to Houston, 8 hours to Honolulu, 8 hours to Guam; and 40 minutes to Saipan. The only hitch in my giddy-up was when after many, many hours of traveling we had an unexpectedly long layover in Guam. Why? The plane just never showed up. Who knows what happened to the plane, but it wasn't there and so we waited until the last flight from Saipan arrived; they cleaned it up real nice for us; the pilot had a smoke; they dished out some "Hawaii Chips," and we eventually made it to Saipan. It was a nice and easy introduction to how things work around here.

Upon my arrival, another MPH student from my school picked me up. I've always loved airport pickups because it's always a time of smiles and relief. Whether you're going home or taking off, it's always good to be there. When I arrived the large security guard, with whom the other student was speaking with, gave me a great big, sweaty hug and said, "Welcome!"

I started work on Friday, but was treated to the buffet lunch at the Hyatt, and then a BBQ celebrating Bastille day (yes, it is random) that night. The following day started with a swim in an outdoor Olympic pool full of salt water. Later that day I went on a long walk along Beach Path with the new Pediatric doc here, who arrived just before me, but is friends with the people that are running the project I'm working on; so, we know each other already and have spent a lot of time together. That night I participated in a Hash. The CNMI Hash is supposed to be one of the best, and for being my first Hash it certainly left an impression on me. For those who aren't sure what I'm talking about, I will explain more later.

Sunday, started with the most amazing brunch I have ever had in my ENTIRE life. It again, was at the Hyatt, and we spent three hours there. It was beautiful; gluttonous and a perfect Sunday meal. That afternoon I tried to actually grocery shop here, which is more challenging than one would think. Everything is super expensive; there's a 50% off expired dairy section; the grocery store produce comes in once a week in a package, and the cereal could very well be stale and expired like many other carb products on the shelves. However, I came out $70 later with some shampoo, pasta, sauce, yogurt, cereal, peanut butter, and bread.

That evening, I went to see Batman! AWESOME! I'll leave it to Deuce to write more about Batman, but I have to say it was probably the best Batman I've ever seen.

So, my week has flown by as I've been at the hospital going through medical records all day long ("all day" here meaning show up at 8; start work around 8:30; lunch at 11:30 until about 1:30; and then 3 more hours of work. I'm home before five.) and then either going to the gym, to dinner, to the beach or to a market afterwards to pass the few hours I have before I head to bed. Nights here are quiet, and mornings are cool, so, I try to do a lot outside between 5:45am and 7am.

It's all good, no complaints. Lots of busy work, and little time to catch up with everyone. Saipan is beautiful, friendly, buggy and hot. There are tons of stray dogs and cars. Everyone smiles, and EVERYONE says, "hello." I'm liking it here, but can't wait for Deuce to come out and for us to head home to autumn weather!

Look kids, Big Ben…Parliament.

Most people would assume that at 3 in the morning, Boston traffic would be relatively simple to navigate. Most people, however, don’t realize that while most of the 1.5million residents of the Boston area sleep, the Traffic Troll and his minions are busy closing ramps and randomly throwing detour signs throughout. You see, the Traffic Troll’s job is to keep the drivers of the city on their toes at all times, thus spreading warm, tingly feelings like a gonorrhea outbreak.

Ans left this morning on a jet plane to the magical land of Saipan, and being the dutiful (or doody-full, depending on the day) partner, I woke up in the middle of the night to take her to the airport. The airport is a 20 minute ride, so I figured I’d be able to kiss my sweetheart goodbye and be back in bed in about an hour.

Ans is going to be in Saipan for six weeks, and apparently the Traffic Troll wanted her to have a proper send-off, so he arranged to take us on a 45 minute scenic tour of the city by closing off every normal route to the airport and replacing it with poorly labeled detours. We did get to see the Big Dig, the Zakem Bridge, the lovely town of Everett, the Public Garden, Boston Common, Rowes Wharf, and the TDNorth Boston Garden. So Ans got to see all those things before she left, cementing them in her mind’s eye, so if she ever misses Boston, she can close her eyes and imagine The Departed. So she’s got that going for her.

I, on the other hand, am now left to my own devices to find ways to fill my time. So I’m writing in the blog again. Lucky you.

Phobic

In 5 days I'm leaving for Saipan. I'm ridiculously excited about this and have been drafting list after list of things I need, errands to run, clothes to pack, books to read, etc. Since December, I have been researching the CNMI to figure out geographical, socio-economic and cultural aspects of the island. From what I've read and heard, visiting Saipan is like visiting Hawaii in 1990. That's excellent. Even though my only trip to Hawaii was in 2005, I'm thinking that in 1990 they still had running water, indoor plumbing and no snakes. That was one of my favorite things about Hawaii; I could freely hike, swim, and run with no fear of running into either a skinny pencil sized reptile or a gigantic-swallow-you-whole one. I'm a lot more adventurous when I know there are no limbless creatures waiting in the tree tops or in tall grass to startle the bejesus out of me or to better yet, eat me alive.

When I booked my flight I knew I was going to have to fly through Guam. Oh, Guam, you tiny little military base of an island. Your historical significance astounds me, and I'm intrigued by your remote-island characteristics; however, I swear that if I encounter a snake while in your airport I will quickly become a psychotic ape shit mess of four letter words, flailing limbs and panic attacks- in public- and will condemn your existence to the deepest, darkest and hottest places of hell. I'm not kidding. I know this sounds insane. But, I think I can honestly say that this may be the only situation I could find myself in where I have no ability to rationally react. NONE.

I have always been PETRIFIED of snakes. It is a legitimate phobia. The fact that I feared them as a child does not justify my unimaginable fear of them today; however, the fact that one fell on my head when I was coming home from school totally justifies my complete paranoia and utter inability to cope in snake-meet-Ans situations. I'd rather see a shark in the ocean. That would suck, don't get me wrong, but when I loose control of all bodily functions in that situation, I'm in the water, and you bet your ass that everyone else is also freaking the fuck out. I wouldn't be alone.

I bring this up because in my last few days before departure I have been dutifully checking up on the weather (it's the rainy season- awesome) and on the snake population of Saipan. I meekly asked a friend who was there last summer about the snake situation on the island and she assured me she didn't see any. But, to be honest, I'm scared shitless to ask anyone that is there now because of the slight chance that they may mention this! HOLY EFFING CRAP.

Please note, this was reported only ten days ago. Now, ok, from my desk 9,000 miles away, let's think rationally. The fact that there is A snake that MIGHT have gotten onto the island from Guam (*kisses*) and that it's making national news is a pretty good sign that there isn't a huge infestation and that things will be fine since there are three dogs and several people actively searching for this mother effer. My honest initial reaction, "That effing thing better not be in my apartment waiting for me to arrive!" I think I would throw up my intestines, explode inside out, wet myself and run away in the opposite direction barreling through walls, running into traffic and pretty much risk everything to get the hell away. I wouldn't even scream, I'd just pathetically whimper. The sad, pathetic truth is, when I do see snakes this is what I feel like I'm doing as I bolt away, and I'm sure my face contorts in all sorts of ways as I drool and moan hysterically. I shit you not, people, this is how I react to snakes. I become unhinged.

So, if y'all wouldn't mind just saying a little prayer or chanting or dancing a little snake-be-gone jig, I'd appreciate it. I'll let you know how my three hour layover in the world's most infested island goes. This is my own personal version of Fear Factor.

Most Polite

As I become older I think that parts of my personality that were so fundamental to who I was between the age of 10 and 21, have begun to change. I was voted "Most Polite" my senior year of high school. What a load of crap. It's the "she's nice, but not the funniest, smartest, cutest or most athletic, so we'll give her polite" award. That's fine. I took it. I have to mention that my brother was voted "Best from Behind." Ass. I'm the one who got the budunkadunk in the family.

Anyway, I digress. I think I was always perceived as kind and smart in school, and for many years it was because I was just too damn shy to show my real personality or share my true opinions. I broke out of that in late high school. Since, I've been trying to find a happy medium between telling it like it is without being irrational or subjective and keeping things to myself- appearing to be more shy and "nice." However, lately, and likely due to some recent stress and boredom with work and school, I've noticed that it's been harder to find this balance, and I've been more outwardly mean. Or at least I feel like I have been. Waking up in the morning and feeling like you're just not a nice person, is just not a nice feeling. It doesn't happen often and usually occurs after moments like the one I had last week. It had been a long, gruelingly slow day at work. I had gone to the gym and needed to pick up groceries before heading home. Disgusting, sweaty, hungry, tired and now overburdened by groceries spilling out of my bag as I had refused to use a paper or plastic bag from the store (sometimes Green is such a bitch), I exited into the humidity.

I live in a busy part of town and often there are people standing idly on the corner trying to get signatures for this or that. I could see this young guy with a clip board had spotted me as soon as I left the store. Usually, if I have time, I'll humor the people and hear at least what they are protesting or rallying for before I give them a smiling, "No, thank you," and walk by. This kid started talking to me before I was within earshot, and the fact that his lips were moving and he was pulling the pen out for me to sign some freaking petition as he could see me muling up the street with groceries shoved into every pocket and beyond - was I supposed to sign with my feet, good sir?- it really flippin irritated me. Still, I gave a superficial smile that I thought might have kindly read, "Please, leave me the hell alone or I will gladly shove my apples up your ass." He continued to murmur and when I got closer I heard something like, "Jalike dasum males?"

I smiled and shook my head as I got closer, assuming he asked if I could sign his clip bored, and no, I wasn't going to. He stopped in his tracks, and asked again as I approached, "Jalike dasum males?!"

I smiled and shook my head and was finally close enough to hear what he said as I passed and he shouted, "You don't like baby whales?!"

Who knows what people think of me when I sit on the T, when I go through the grocery store, run down the block, eat gum off the street. At that moment I couldn't have cared less, and it didn't seem like anyone cared either. Part of living in a city is becoming oblivious to most of what's going on around you, but at the same time hyper aware of your environment. The ebb and flow of actively ignoring, but taking note of situations is something you have to learn to master here. It makes me a bit sad. It's made me a bit cold. That kid made me want to wear the T-shirt my father designed for me for my UVM orientation, "Nuke the gay baby sperm whales."

One day, I'll be nice again.